#The Engaged Quad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shivasdarknight · 1 year ago

Text

I've got a LOT. Like, a lot a lot so I'm going to have to put this under a cut. But let's go over Surkukteni's first :3c

First we got Surkie's fiances, aka the Engaged Quad, which is her, Ysayle, Estinien, and Aymeric.

Technically she fell for Ysayle first, and Estinien last, but the order of people getting together was jumbled because of msq and other bullshit. It basically went that pretty much all three of her fiances were at varying levels of Into Her through hvw (Ysayle in the deepest, Aymeric was probably The Most Normal About It, while Estinien was in very complicated denial), but none really said anything because of all that was going on and it feeling inappropriate (also Estinien and Aymeric weren't just only into Surkie; part of Estinien's denial was the fact he struggled processing having active feelings for two people). Obviously hvw happens, Surkie ends up extremely fucked up over the apparent death of Ysayle (it's my canon now), a huge schism has come between her and Estinien, and it's Aymeric she ends up getting a lot closer to - both through her work with him as a Dark Knight (which is a Very long story), but also in ending the Dragonsong War. He asks her out during 3.X, but she really can't bring herself to because right when she was feeling comfortable he's nearly assassinated. Taking it that she's cursed, she refuses to get attached and fucks off.

I've got a fic going of the reconciliation with Estinien during the drg70 quest which eventually turns into their fwb situation. It's a lot of complicated and messy feelings because she's struggling through a lot and he's trying to keep his own feelings out of it because she clearly needs an outlet and it seems to help with the physical loneliness/touch starved state she's in. But Whoops she goes and catches feelings and is under the impression that he wouldn't reciprocate and it eats her alive all the way into 5.3. Perish the thought that him clearly being worried about her, confiding a lot in her, being very openly fond with her could ever mean anything - and yes, she is a bit of a dense dumbass.

Through all of this is Surkie maintaining an (attempted) casual relationship with Aymeric where all of their feelings are very well laid out, but Surkie's not at all ready to commit to anything because she's still very fucked up over hvw (and her abusive ex gf). They're also in a somewhat fwb situation, but unlike with Estinien, they know it's reciprocated just not official. So there's this tone of melancholy that pervades every interaction of theirs. There's this promise of acting upon feelings when she's more adjusted, but it's been ~4 years and she's only getting worse from being denied the time to process everything.

5.3 is where Surkie breaks down and confesses to Estinien out of fear that she'd lost him to Elidibus thanks to that nightmare instance in Amaurot. And unsurprisingly, he's honest with her as well and it ends up in them renegotiating what they are to each other while making it clear that it's not going to be monogamous even if they're officially together - in part because they're comfortable in things being open, but also obviously because of Aymeric. This is also where they fuck up, but that's not discovered until 5.55.

The tailend of 5.3 is where Surkie reunites with Ysayle, and this is also a fic that can be read! :D Ysayle wasn't dead and instead spent 3.0-5.3 trying to recover from hvw and figure out what she wants to do with her life (this is also a fic and another wip one). This leads to the first arrangement of Surkie being with Estinien and Ysayle that eventually leads into a triad as Estinien and Ysayle work out unresolved issues (very fun draft I'm working on), and then pulling Aymeric into Surkie and Estinien's relationship - and that one ends up turning into a proper quad. The dynamic developed predominantly through the wait between 5.55 and 6.0 thanks to that Mistake from 5.3 (they didn't think elezen and au ra could have kids, now they've got infant twins at the start of enw), so they've been cohabitating for the last year or so? More now that we're in post enw. Aymeric proposed at the start of enw, and Surkie is still really giddy about being able to say fiances even if they never go all the way to married (they are tho, the idea of getting to call Ysayle her wife means a lot to Surkie). They're all still living at Aymeric's place while they figure out a more permanent living situation - seeing as Surkie has a bunch of murder pets like Fenrir of which there's no space for + she doesn't like city areas - and a top consideration is just fucking off into the middle of Dravania to get away from everyone lmao It's also an eventual necessity because beyond her pets (three hoarhounds - two full grown, one an adolescent - a young lykaon, and a full grown coeurl), it's four adults (well, five but living in a decent enough space with their four kids (Allie was adopted after the Werlyt storyline, then there's the twins previously mentioned, then one during 6.2) and they figured it might be better to find a place sooner rather than later.

The group is made up of two extremely sardonic people with a history of communication problems, and then two very charismatic leaders who are beyond patient - yet still have cheeky streaks underneath it. It's also three orphans and then Surkie, who isn't an orphan but also doesn't consider her blood parents to be her family. Not a single one is straight (all are bisexual, with Aymeric being the only one without a strong leaning since Surkie and Ysayle are very inherently sapphic while Estinien predominantly likes men; this arrangement is very funny to me because of this), and like half of them aren't cis (surkie's bigendered and intersex as it relates to au ra, while aymeric is a trans man). Lots of fun overlap in politics vs wanderlust as well as other interests, but mostly I just really enjoy them from the perspective as four really lonely people who found comfort in one another getting the chance to build a family together, especially when there have been so many instances where they've nearly died. Getting to build something like that with people who Get It just really gets to me it's so sweet qnq

There's also Heustienne in this. I'm still trying to figure out how she interacts with half of the Engaged Quad, but she does end up eventually seeing both Surkie and Ysayle - and specifically, it's starts seeing them again since they were both separate flings back in hvw. Heustienne has a lot larger of a role in my rewrite and isn't stuck in the drg50-60 quests, specifically she's part of the main group in hvw up until her being turned and then she ends up joining the Scions around shb. So she's around during the extended wait between 5.55 and enw and ends up back with Surkie and Ysayle, meaning that (at least for now) Estinien and Aymeric are metamours - Aymeric's more cordial since he doesn't know her super well ahead of time, but Estinien is super familiar with her and (playfully) harasses her a Lot.

Moving from them, we have another one of Surkie and Ysayle's partners.

This one's fun because it's the whole immortal and their reincarnating lover, but it's like. 2 reincarnating lovers, each meeting more and more tragic ends, but the ones that finally break through are so far divorced from the original that the immortal has to put aside her feelings for her old lovers as they're long dead and works to get to know these two present people.

Venat was lovers with Charon (Surkie) and Khione (Ysayle) back in Elpis, and Charon is a whole fucking complicated thing but it was basically three people who felt really alienated by their own society and found solace in one another. They'd always wanted a family but between Khione's infertility and Charon's severe dysphoria at the mere thought of that, as well as not knowing anyone who'd be willing to surrogate, it was something that really ate at them while Venat's original lovers were still alive. Yeah, of course they considered adoption and were more than happy to do that, but the world ended before they got the chance. Khione died first, Charon - who was supposed to be the heart of Hydaelyn - died soon after, leaving Venat as Hydaelyn for millenia. And as Hydaelyn, she had the misfortune of watching them reincarnate and find each other - time after time again - only for things to end poorly and prematurely. Across every life, across every shard - nothing seemed to improve and Hydaelyn kept finding herself forestalling their reincarnations little by little each time as a way to spare them of further grief. The worst was during the 3rd Era on the Source when Ammut (Surkie) and Macchi (Ysayle) were horrifically murdered by Ammut's on brother, Amon. The rage that carried over even in death had Venat keep their souls with her for three-thousand years until the aetherial sea swept them from her to reincarnate as Surkukteni and Ysayle. Weakened as she was, Venat did what she could to try and protect the two of them - which is why both have her traveler's mark - but she could only do so much. This is the first cycle in which both reincarnations of her lovers are aware of her existence, yet it's so distant and she can feel the animosity rolling off of Surkukteni over the idea of having someone deign to lord over her life's course.

Endwalker is when Surkie does ease up a lot on Hydaelyn as the reality of her growing weaker begins to hit her. The lack of contact, the lack of action - no shit she hasn't intervened, she's basically dying. And it only really hits her when Hydaelyn intervenes during Garlemald (i altered that one 83 instance, its very different now) to keep Surkie's daughter, Yukiko, alive. Surkie only just managed to get to her daughter in time before Hydaelyn's intervention wavered, having exerted too much energy. She goes totally silent then, and it's only then that Surkie begins to regret much of what she's said about and to Hydaelyn upon realizing the direness of the matter.

While much of her perspective is changed during Endwalker (especially during Elpis and getting to properly meet Venat), this relationship is only built after Endwalker once everything has been secured and they can take a godsdamned break. During Endwalker, Surkie managed to save Venat by collecting her tattered soul after their final battle into a white auracite - something that she left with Nidhana as she didn't want to risk hurting Venat while traveling, especially when they had to go to Ultima Thule. During the recovery period of 6.0-6.1, it's with the help of Gwendoline (another wol, she's below) and Nidhana that Venat has a vessel built for her in the same vein as the older Varshahn vessel - but whereas both Varshahns are more puppets for the sake of observation and function, Venat's was designed to be as realistic and livable as possible. And so Venat spends 6.X effectively relearning how to be mortal, getting used to her new body, seeing what she can of the star she so diligently protected, and slowly building up new relationships with the inheritors of her lovers' souls. They're officially together at the start of 6.2, Venat ends up joining everyone during 6.4 when Ysayle has to dip out because she and Surkie fucked up gg guys, and she lives in the Borel manor now since she doesn't really have anywhere else - which also was Aymeric's idea by the way, he's more than fine with company and especially if said company is the lover of two of his fiances.

Venat's also with Gwendoline and I'm thinking maybe Y'shtola? But I'm still trying to decide on it. But a definite is that Surkie-Gwen-Venat and Surkie-Venat-Ysayle are all absolutely a thing.

And yeah, Surkie is with Gwendoline because it's a really cute dynamic of these two knowing each other for 7 years and this just really sweet slowly building dynamic of really really good friends turned into really close lovers. They got together after Endwalker and have been inseparable.

So, speaking of Gwen:

I only really have gposes of one of Gwen's relationships, and that's with Zero. But like Surkie, she's very polyamorous and has a lot of fun relationships.

So like as just a thing to point out, Gwen's a demisexual femme lesbian and is very married to her work. In spite of all of this, she has managed to end up with Y'shtola, Nidhana, Venat, Surkukteni, and Zero. The dynamics are Gwendoline-Y'shtola-Nidhana, Gwendoline-Y'shtola-Zero, Gwendoline-Surkukteni-Venat, and she's been in this mess since ARR.

Gwen began to catch feelings for Surkie mid-to-late ARR, which was also when she was beginning to grow fond of Y'shtola. But that led to her sitting there going "do I find them very good friends, or do I actually like them" and wound up trapped in a state of indecision of what to do - like, should she act on either? Bloody banquet happens, Y'shtola's gone. Hvw happens, Surkie is very obviously into Ysayle. Gwen is regretting a lot of things, but she's trying to support Surkie regardless of what happens. It's really rough for her through most of hvw - especially since she's dodging (accurate) accusations of necromancy - but things do ease up when they managed to find Y'shtola. The two are very close over shared research fields, curiosity, humor etc., but Y'shtola's recklessness managed to scare Gwendoline so badly that she ended up confessing soon after getting her back out of the fear she'd lose her again so suddenly. It's...rocky, especially because of trying to help Y'shtola now that she's blind, but they have a very strong foundation for a very long lasting relationship. ...Little does Gwen know that her feelings for Surkie were reciprocated and Surkie was beating herself up over a missed opportunity, but then what fun would it be? :)

Gwen spends the next four years dealing with a horrifically messed up Surkukteni, someone she deeply loves who is going through it after the perceived death of Ysayle. Worse, Gwendoline is one of the people who worked to keep Ysayle alive - she knows better, she knows that Ysayle is alive, but she can't tell Surkie just yet due to the danger of drawing attention to a weakened Lady Iceheart when the Garleans were already really agitated by the Warriors of Light. She feels fkn awful about lying to Surkie, but she doesn't see it as something that could help by telling her; first it was because she was unsure that Ysayle would pull through, then she didn't want to draw attention that could get Ysayle killed and have it be on Surkie's hands, then everything was too chaotic to have the time to do so, and then they were on the First and on a time limit. And all the while, Gwen had to watch someone she loved deteriorate. It hurt! A lot! Even more so when Y'shtola disappeared because of shb, and then everything with the Light that threatened to destroy Surkie.

Lot of helpless feelings in this. Lot of Gwendoline having to swallow feelings because nothing felt appropriate to admit. Things were finally calm and maybe she could say something----and Surkie's settling into a relationship and expecting twins. Gwen swore she was going to go insane.

Through the course of enw, Gwen builds up a lot of rapport with Nidhana - and similarly, so does Y'shtola. So yeah, admittedly even if it takes Gwen a bit to properly catch feelings for Nidhana, she does use this as a distraction to see if she can ignore the feelings for Surkie that have only grown more intense with time. She does love Nidhana dearly, don't misunderstand; but she was pursuing what distractions she could to no avail.

Elpis is a fun section, for the sole reason that it gets to Gwen bad. She likes to say she's only immediately fallen for someone once and it was such an intense and overwhelming feeling that she prays it never happens again. .......Yeah it happens a second time, and it's Venat dropping down from the sky and cleaving a shark in two. Gwen is in a state of things, she's extremely flustered, and she doesn't know what to do with herself because this is Hydaelyn. From a past that no longer exists. Y'shtola thinks it's the funniest fucking thing, but Gwen is Suffering.

Ultima Thule isn't any better. Having lost so many allies to this bizarre reality - and mind you, Estinien and Ysayle disappear at the same time - Surkukteni's not in a good headspace whatsoever. It's down to her, the Leveilleur twins, and Gwendoline. She's desperately trying to keep things together but she's on the verge of falling apart. Worse when it's those three's turn to sacrifice themselves and Gwen steps out of the group to be painfully honest in a way she's never allowed herself to be. She admits the feelings she's been harboring for the past seven years, admitting to her reasons for not saying anything, mentioning Surkukteni needn't reciprocate since all is falling apart...she just needed to get it off her chest. She seals it off with kissing a stunned Surkie before getting swept off by Meteion with the Leveilleur twins, leaving Surkie alone and distraught.

When she manages to bring everyone back for the final push into the Dead Ends, Gwendoline is having a brief Moment realizing that Y'shtola's mad plan actually worked - meaning those weren't her last words and that wasn't her last action. Surkie is, understandably, smothering the two fiances that came with them and reaming them out for being self sacrificial assholes, but it's not long before she turns on Gwen who didn't let her answer. And wouldn't you have it, Surkie grab's Gwen and drags her down to kiss her silly and asks her to put things on pause so they can talk about it when things are done.

.........and then surkie does a self sacrificial thing that gets her yelled at by p much everyone, but it's deserved.

Gwen and Surkie make things official during the recovery period of Endwalker, which also is when Gwen starts work on Venat's body. She knows she's gonna have to confront someone who managed to get her attention immediately, but she wasn't expecting Venat to be so patient and kind with her - just makes the feelings worse. It's over the course of Venat's recovery and adjustment that the two end up falling for each other and get together, which just so happens to be when the Void stuff starts up and Gwen gets to meet Zero.

patch complicated things, so I'm just going to talk as if this is up to 6.4. Gwen didn't trust Zero at first seeing as this was Zenos' voidsent - and she has every right to be wary. She was very standoffish and didn't understand why the others - especially Y'shtola! - were giving her the benefit of the doubt, and did everything in her power to remain cordial and not let venom slip through. Gwen's gut feeling has saved their asses on many an occasion, but she was off with this one by a bit: had Zero remained as they'd met her, then she'd've been right. But Zero's growth countered that gut feeling and allowed them to warm up to each other. ...Very slowly. What's funny is that Surkie and Gwen had opposite reactions with Zero. While Surkie was willing to give her a chance at the start - trusting the story of being used by Zenos and wanting to help her - the two became a bit awkward with each other not because of anything serious; no it's literally just they're basically pointing mirrors at one another and it makes Surkie v uncomfortable lmAO It's nothing against Zero, she just doesn't like being called out. Gwen, on the other hand, warmed up to Zero and managed to get through to her in part due to her experience dealing with Surkie. I also have a fic for these two, it's really cute I adore it, and I'm going to have to...do a bit more planning with them.

Lastly, we got the token monogamists:

Altan is Surkie's little sister (half sister specifically), and W'khittri is her girlfriend. Both have been on the team since mid-to-late ARR and have specifically been friendly with one another since post ARR. W'khittri is a fair amount older and more experienced than Altan (11 year difference), but it's less of a power imbalance and more W'khittri picking up on Altan's interest and trying to get her to act and be more confident in herself. Altan's a baby butch lesbian who's still trying to figure herself out (especially ARR-STB), while W'khittri is a bi trans woman who lost her long-term partner to the Garleans. So it's a lot of fostering Altan's curiosity and desire to experiment with her gender presentation, and being a resource for her whenever she needs it. Altan's agency isn't encroached upon whatsoever, she's closer to 20 when the two end up together, and much of what they do is on Altan's terms based on her comfort as she figures herself out.

They're honestly a really sweet couple, especially as they do what they can to support each other. Stormblood is A Trip, seeing as W'khittri has to deal with constant reminders of the destruction of the W Tribe and the deaths of her partner and father. The only family W'khittri has left is her daughter, W'leinshi (who's like 5 in arr, so a preteen in enw), and Altan is constantly doing everything in her power to do right by this kid. Altan and W'khittri are a solid team as Scions, and eventually become inseparable in their personal lives. When Surkie approaches Altan to take over many of her responsibilities as the Warrior of Light while she's on the First, W'khittri is quick to back her up much like how Altan helped W'khittri gain closure for her tribe's massacre.

Unfortunately it's not all happy. While yeah, I still stand by that their relationship remains really sweet, things get messy when Altan is betrayed by Misija and loses both of her arms. This relegates Altan to a non-combative role, with W'khittri having to step down as well to take care of Altan. Even though Altan isn't mad at W'khittri for what happened, it still frustrates her that she's so immediately helpless after the injury and it really fucks with her head. Worse is when she realizes that she can't do a lot for herself, but one thing that she voices and causes her to break down was she "can't hold W'leinshi anymore" and won't be able to properly hold her niece and nephew without fear of hurting them with her initial prosthetics. And honestly it takes W'khittri by surprise because she was expecting something to do with her mobility, her ability to fight, to stay as a Scion - not if she'd be able to hug her girlfriend's daughter, or hold her sister's children without hurting either of them. It spurs W'khittri to do what she can to help Altan bounce back and try to make sure her spirit isn't too crushed by all that happened, but it does mean that they're not involved in enw save for helping Aymeric take care of the Engaged Quad's kids while the other three are trying to stop the Final Days.

Both are back as of 6.X and tighter than ever. Altan's about...26 at this point? A lot more confident in herself and her relationship with W'khittri, and the two have been together for so long that she's genuinely thinking about proposing but she wants to figure out how to do so in a way that'd work within the W Tribe's customs.

There's a lot more that I have. Like Seraphin and Teodore (ocs) who are part of the og WoL group, there's Katsuro/Thancred/Urianger and probably G'raha maybe idk (+Katsuro's grand fuckup with two different Ascians), Melisande and Yotsuyu who are Very Very fun (Mellie also had a past thing with Laniaitte), Zirnghota and Athanasia (ocs), Iolaine and Odin (oc + friend oc, but actually it's Urth and Odin and odin's a LESBIAN), Lillith and Avian (another oc + friend oc thats been a thing for years now - i love @/lcvnderhazed so much), Krystsyng and Misaki (ocs, Misaki is Surkie's abusive ex), Saoirse and Cylva (which is fun >:3c), Philomene and Saoirse (ocs), Ammut and Macchi (ocs), Ammut and Bahamut (ya i said what i said), Macchi and Tiamat - which then also extends into Ysayle and Tiamat, and even a bunch of past relationships/flings like with Surkie and Cylva .o.

I just think that this is all v neat and fun

WoL/OC Question(s)!

This one goes out to the WoLshippers! Who do you ship your WoL/OC with? An NPC or another WoL/OC? How did they meet, and how long have they been together? What kind of relationship do they have?

Show me your favorite SFW gpose/art of them together!

196 notes · View notes

defensenow · 7 months ago

Text

youtube

0 notes

treesah · 7 months ago

Text

One reason why I think I’m acespec is because I rarely realize when people are trying to get me to have sex with them and when I think I’m being friendly apparently I’m putting out ~vibes~

Anyway at the conference-ending social event tonight, an NMR facility manager let me give him my card and talk about our inventory and service offerings and then we were chatting about a bunch of other stuff and in my head I was like “Wow I’m networking!” and it wasn’t until he was like “Do you want to find a place to get a drink? Or my hotel has a hot tub. We could find a place to buy a bottle of wine and head back there” that I realized I had misread the situation.

#personal #maybe I didn’t misread the situation and he was just european?#I think platonically inviting someone back to the hotel to drink wine in a hot tub is something europeans do #my engagement and wedding rings were extremely visible the entire time #maybe this guy really did want to hear more about why QUAD Systems NMR is better than QOne #and just wanted to be more comfortable??

0 notes

malewifegradyruewen · 2 years ago

Text

she was right that wolf can really quad workout

#im in beauty and the beast and im one of the wolves #our choreographer told us we needed to crouch low and engage our quads #i just did a minute long scene including circling maurice and climbing up stairs almost in a squat #and god my quads hurt

1 note · View note

tojigasm · 10 months ago

Note

felix would def rub your clit through your panties until you cum 💕 he’s such a tease :/

Yeshewouldyeshewouldyeshewould.

He'll do it at the most crude times as well. Most recently, being a party, the two of you had gone to.

You'd been sitting on his lap, your knees bent over his spread thighs. Your head rests against his shoulder as you fade in and out of consciousness, having been at the party for a little over two hours or so.

Felix can sense your tiredness as he massages the soft base of your neck, taking occasional sips from his glass cup of burboun while talking amongst his friends.

Every now and then, he tries to include you in the conversation, shrugging his shoulder against you or bouncing his knees to get you to wake up some.

"Whatcha' think about that, baby?" He'd ask, fully aware you weren't engaged at all.

"Hm?" You rub at one of your eyes, meeting his baby blues before letting yourself relax back into his hold.

At least another half hour passes before you've woken yourself up out of your tired state in annoyance.

You just wanted to go home and sleep, and all Felix seemed to want to do was talk until the damn birds were chirping and the sun was up.

"Lex," you tug at his baby blue polo.

He only hums, not bothering to turn towards you admist his conversation.

"Lex," you try again, pulling at his arm this time. "I wanna go back to the dorms. I'm tired."

"I-in a minute, hon." He gently waves at you before returning to the conversation.

The disregard for you sends another wave of annoyance through you.

Maneuvering yourself out of his hold, you stand and begin to take step – knowing Felix wouldn't let you walk back through the quad in the dark.

Almost immediately as you're standing, you're being pulled back by his hand on your forearm.

The conversation has shifted over to one of Felix's other friends.

When you fall back into the couch, Felix leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Behave."

"I wanna go–"

"Cut it out." He cuts you off with a quick swipe to your cunt through your leggings.

The pressure pulls a gasp from you, and one of his friends turns to look over at the two of you before engaging in the conversation again.

You go to speak, cut off by Felix pressing the heel of his palm against your heat and thumbing his fingers over your soaked folds through the leggings of your fabric as he joins into the conversation again.

Over the next ten or so minutes, he brings you to and from the edge over and over until you're visibly panting beside him into his arm.

"D'awh," Felix coos, "you gettin' tired?" He whispers low enough for you to hear.

You nod into his arm.

"Use your words." His voice deepens again.

"Please, I wanna cum." You sob through a choked whisper.

"Why should I let you? You've been acting like a spoiled brat this whole night." He flicks his thumb to apply pressure on your clit and you jolt.

"I've been being good, I have!" You cry into his shoulder.

Felix doesn't say anything for a moment, opting to circle his fingers over your soaked heat again and up to your clit.

"Cum fr'me then."

White hot heat sends shivers down your arms and legs as you come undone – biting at the freckled skin of his arm as he continues to circle your clit.

You grab at his wrist, halting his movements.

Chatter between the group continues before Felix takes a deep sigh and pats your thigh as he stands up.

"Well, it's gettin' late guys, and I gotta get her back to the dorms." He smiles as he helps you up on wobbly legs.

Nobody seems to notice your behavior as anything other than tired and work to make room for the two of you to exit the party.

As you both walk outside and he lands a slap to your ass.

"Don't try getting smart with me." He adds when you turn to him in shock, rubbing at your cheek to ease the sting. "If you behave tonight, I might give you something tomorrow."

#felix catton #saltburn #jacob elordi #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi x reader

1K notes · View notes

flor4de4amor · 6 months ago

Note

biting on abby muscles ESPECIALLY her thigh muscles I'm drooling

i also got super ahead of myself w this one... woopsies guys!

click for palestine | boycot tlou!! | read b4 engaging w me

warnings: smut, reader fingers abby, the two of you are friends w benefits (which i feel like is a trigger in itself so i'm being considerate in forewarning)

you get like this whenever you’re ovulating. abby thinks it’s cute. you’ve got an itch only she can scratch. her needy little girl, who cries her name when her thick fingers stretch out your cunt. who bounces on her plastic cock, like you’ll die if you stop and squirts all over her torso. who laps at her pussy like it’s fucking ambrosia. she loves it. she could never deny you. especially, you call her late into the night, while she’s supposed to be sleeping.

you’re a night owl and she’s an early bird. your relationship was doomed to fail, amongst other reasons. but it’s just sloppy sex every once and a while, so who cares? definitely not abby, and definitely not you. which is why whenever you call, she comes running. she’s never been dissatisfied by your acts of service.

but now, you’re teasing her, and abby is growing both restless and agitated. she didn’t drag herself out of bed half asleep to be teased. she came over to, well, cum. your tongue licking over every exposed surface of her body, except where she wants needs you. her clit is throbbing with urgency. “baby,” she grimaces using the name, as you run your fingers over her toned stomach and kiss up her muscular thighs.

“hm?” you question with a hum looking up her without stopping your movements.

“you gonna fuck me tonight or what?” abby asks hastily with a scoff.

you smile against her salvia-coated quad. “are you gonna be mean to me?”

she sucks her teeth, which you see, despite your room only being illuminated by a low lamp. “maybe,” she replies.

you bite into the tender flesh of her meaty thigh in response. you moan while doing so, “i bet you taste so good,” you say aloud. she grunts at your action.

“i do,” abby says with a hint of desperation in her voice.

you hook both your index fingers into the waistband of her underwear, pulling them down to her ankles, and throw it to the other side of your room. your ring and middle finger, group to her slit and collect her slick. you lick your fingers, “you’re sweet alright.” you repeat the action of collection, before offering your fingers to the pale girl. “wanna try?” you don’t give her much choice as you gently prod her mouth open. her tongue circling around your digits with a moan. “do you think you’re sweet baby?” you ask before sucking on her thigh once more, adding another layer of bruises to her legs. marks for her to show off with those teasing biker shorts she always wears to the gym.

“uhuh,” she tells you while bucking her hips upward, in need of some contact. you place your forearm atop her lower torso. though the force doesn’t halt her, she lowers her hips in a forfeit.

“you want me to eat this pretty pussy abby?” the use of her name only makes her more needy. she nods her head eagerly. “she’s crying for me,” you mumble into the crease of her legs, nibbling once more. she huffs. the more you dig your canines into her, the more desperate she gets. you’re playing dirty. it’s no fair. that’s usually her job.

without warning, you thrust your fingers into her weeping cunt. she gasps at the motion. you giggle, as she squelches and squeezes around your fingers. “more,” she commands.

“i don’t negotiate with terrorists,” you grunt while increasing the speed of your fingers, as cream collects around them. you press a faint kiss to her clit. pressing your flat tongue to the bundle of nerves. she thrust upwards again, and you pull back. “you ruin it for yourself baby.” you look at her hooded eyes. she’s so sexy when she’s desperate.

she slurs, “i’m sorry,” her toes clenching. her pretty freckled face all flushed out.

“you’re needier than i am,” you tease her, pressing your tongue on her clit once more. she moans your name while clenching around you. you suck on her soft clit, gently and carefully using your teeth. you know just how to make abby a mess.

“i’m close,” she tells you while wrapping her hands around your messy hair. those thick thighs you love so much, wrapping around your head, trapping you into the mound you cherish. you grunt into her soft cunt and grind against your bed sheets, sure for there to be proof of your desperation when you’re done. abby cums loudly, her head tossed back and eyes shut. you watch her intensely. while slightly overstimulating her as you still finger her relentlessly, but latch your mouth to her slick and sweaty thighs once more.

her hands wipe the sweat off your forehead with as much care as casual fucking will allow. “was it good?” you ask her, looking up at her with big wide eyes searching for approval.

“you’re a fucking succubus baby,” she gently slaps your face. you groan with pleasure, “was more than good.” she uses her rough hands in your hair to pull your face off her legs, “why don’t you come up here on my face so i can return the favor?” you grin, climbing up the sexy trunk of abby, ready to receive from her greedily.

854 notes · View notes

shivasdarknight · 1 year ago

Text

i got so much i need to do and brain is not helpful and only supplying me dumb gpose ideas

#original #consider: estiniens minding his fucking business only to get squashed on the couch by surkie because shes in an annoying mood #but it just gets progressively worse as their other partners take notice and join in #probably would just stick to the engaged quad but the idea of venat getting in on harassing one of her metamours seems fun #also heustienne. she deserves to bully estinien #do you see the problem now #also allie would find the whole thing Supremely annoying and just leave because her parents are embarrassing

0 notes

roseykat · 10 months ago

Text

TITLE: Brown Eyes Don’t Pry

PAIRING: Changbin x f!reader

SUMMARY: Changbin comes home from the gym, only to find you getting yourself off with your door wide open - a delicious opportunity for him not to pass up. To watch the way you make yourself cum when you think nobody else is around.

TAGS: perv!Changbin, female masturbation, orgasms, voyeurism, reader is watching porn, hints of humiliation, (this is slightly short but it’s been on my mind).

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST

Changbin’s body is killing him.

Muscles aching, quads sore, calves sore. The only saving grace to relieve some of it was to ensure he was properly stretching and had a thorough cooldown. He followed that up with a hot shower at the gym and getting into some fresh clean clothes before jumping in his car and heading back home.

The drive would’ve been a lot more miserable had he not taken the necessary steps to feel comfortable after a tough session. However, Changbin is always in for the nitty gritty training that he puts himself through. Despite how nagging or painful it can be prior and post, the progress will always keep him going.

In light of that, he always needs to take care of his body in between sessions too. For that reason, when Changbin arrives home and heads inside, he collapses onto the couch. Sleep threatens to pull him under if he doesn’t get back up to make himself some breakfast. That's equally important too, to which his grumbling stomach agrees.

At that minute, Changbin hoists his tired body off of the couch, about to head into the kitchen to cook up something nutritious when something catches the attention of his ears. From downstairs, he couldn’t quite pinpoint if it was a TV playing or voices. Felix was at work, he knew that much since he saw him leave this morning. Plus, his car isn’t parked in the driveway.

You on the other hand were supposed to be out with friends until lunch, and as Changbin peers down at the screen of his phone, it was clearly nowhere near lunch. He’s only about to have some breakfast. However, the ongoing noises from upstairs makes him curious to see what’s going on.

There’s no way an intruder broke in. Changbin couldn’t hear any clamour of items or hurried, shuffling footsteps across the floor. It only sounded like a voice.

That’s when it becomes a bit more distinct as he begins his ascent upstairs while his fine-tuned ears recognises the distress behind the person’s voice. How anguished they sounded. But then he sees it as he makes it up to the top of the stairs, through the crack of the door to your room.

“Ah, y-yes, fuck. God, wanna cum so bad...”

Changbin's entire body freezes on the spot. Suddenly, his legs can’t move. They don’t want to move. Not from the sheer shock of seeing you half-naked from the back, grinding your pussy over the rounded corner of the desk in your room keeps him from moving. Only his jaw manages to unhinge itself a bit as he watches you rub yourself until you feel good.

You must’ve been like that for quite some time as Changbin noticed the creamy glaze in between your folds, some of which had made an appearance on your desk. It helped glide you over the surface of the desk more easily, so much so that you needed to grab the edge with one hand while trying to hold your phone in the other.

If Changbin hadn't seen what you were holding, he still would’ve guessed correctly that you were watching porn. From the erotic sounds alone, it was relatively easy to depict.

He swallowed a thick lump in his throat that had been growing as fast as the tent in his pants. He doesn't want to move, remaining in place as he listens to your tortured and forced whimpers. Never in his wildest imagination did he ever think of being in a situation like this.

Whilst you both are friends - roommates at the very most, he has never seen you in this type of light. So vulnerable. So fuckable, even.

Watching you lose your mind over trying to rub your pussy the right way, over and over again. The state of desperation you're in causes his cock to start filling out. He takes in the fact that your legs start to shake as you draw near to a long-awaited orgasm.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, please!” You call out to nobody, almost making Changbin chuckle.

As the pace of your hips picks up, so does your breathing. The stimulating feeling is all too good as it bursts vibrantly at the seams for release to trickle throughout all the best parts of your body. The porn playing before your eyes of a woman getting railed until she starts shaking, makes you wish that you had a dildo or something to fuck yourself with.

Something - anything that would allow you to clench and cream around until you start seeing stars.

Sick of your hands having to do the job, you had to resort to other methods. There are no detachable shower heads in the apartment, nothing malleable yet sturdy enough to insert - either they were too big or too small, or, too dangerous.

When you were trying to figure out what to use, the thought of Changbin’s massage gun crossed your mind. But, you’re not sure if you would go that far especially knowing that he always keeps that thing near him whenever his muscles start playing up. Not to mention, he probably wouldn’t appreciate you using it as a sex toy.

However, none of it mattered at the moment. Not when you’re gasping for air, moaning as if there isn’t another soul in the house. Not to your knowledge at least as Changbin watches your muscles writhe when you push yourself over the edge. The pleasure buildup makes it so intense that you can barely continue to grind on the desk.

“Y-Yes! Mm, c-cumming,” you throw your head back, phone clamouring out of your hand as you go to grip the other side of the desk now to keep the momentum up.

You want to milk every last bit of your orgasm until the very last drop of pleasure leaves your body. As gasps heave out of your mouth, all you are left with are the remnants of a strong orgasm and the tremoring aftershocks that come with it.

As you slowly bring yourself down, you barely hear the creak of the door over the thumping of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The uncanny presence of another was too hard not to miss, causing you to zap right around to find Changbin staring right back at you.

He stands underneath the doorframe with a blank expression.

There are no words that come to mind. Each mental faculty you possess scrambles to search for some decent explanation to justify what you’ve done - and in front of him no less.

“I think you ought to keep the door closed next time you want to get yourself off,” says Changbin cooly. “And…maybe wear some headphones if you’re going to watch porn too.”

“I-I didn’t - I wasn’t-”

Changbin fake pouts, throwing on a synthetic look of sympathy as he steps over the threshold of your room, “really? You’re going to lie after I just finished watching you make yourself cum all over your desk?”

Your eyes widen, an icy feeling washing over you before you notice the bulge in his pants, “you saw…”

“Saw, heard, witnessed - you name it Y/N,” Changbin lists. “Plus it wasn’t that hard when you had the door nearly half open. I suppose you were hoping one of us was just going to slide right in behind you, huh? Maybe waiting for Felix to come home early, see you bent over and wet just for him to fuck you.”

“That’s not - that’s not what it looks like,” you try to explain. “I was just…I needed to…I had nobody to…”

“To fuck you,” Changbin finishes off your sentence perfectly.

Exactly that. The whole point of getting yourself off was because you aren't getting fucked. What can you do when you're horny and have nobody to dick you down when you need it? Who's going to finger fuck you so that you don't have to do it yourself? Changbin doesn't even need to see through you to find that out after watching you.

He can see your insides angrily shredding yourself up with embarrassment. The fact that he just caught you red handed, drawing out a furious blush over your cheeks. Not only was it the humiliation that evoked such a reaction, but it was also Changbin’s words.

Some far away part in the back of your brain actually hoped that someone would come up behind you and ‘slide right in.’ To start fucking you unprovoked. You were clearly ready for it and desperate enough, but the main thing is, you wanted it too. To you, it almost sounded like Changbin could have.

“All you had to do was open your mouth,” he says and reaches down to gently grab your jaw to turn your head from side to side. “Then again, I’m sure it has its other uses.”

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #changbin smut

389 notes · View notes

johnbrand · 5 months ago

Text

Call of Duty: Next Potential Chief

With @mrrharper

Inspired by nothing but boredom, Craig booted up his older brother’s console. If he found out that Craig was touching his stuff, his brother would have easily put him in the hospital. The two often fought, being on either end of the masculine spectrum. Craig, the liberal, more effeminate gay, had nothing in common with his conservative, ultra macho douchebag of a brother. Their fights were more or less his older brother shouting slurs at him for being girly, “a pussy” and “a fag," before landing numerous kicks and punches.

The home screen of the console displayed an array of games, most of which were the standard first person shooters. One however caught the short, slim boy’s eyes: Call of Duty: New Potential Chief. He was unfamiliar with any of the COD titles, but this one appeared to be new. At least, that’s what the small “NEW” banner above the icon hinted at. Intrigued, Craig decided to engage, opening the application. It took a while for the game to load, but eventually he was brought to the main menu.

Complete the Entry Campaign before joining online.

Craig assumed that was reasonable; he would have to endure a tutorial if he wanted to play the game properly. As soon as his finger accepted the prompt, a piercing electric shock paralyzed his entire body. Frozen, Craig now sat completely still as the screen continued forward, ready to engage its program.

Entry Campaign activated, downloading Physicality package…

The screen in front of Craig began to display multiple bars with different characteristics.

HEIGHT - 68/77 Units

WEIGHT - 152/200 Units

ADIPOSE TISSUE - 16/15%

MUSCULATURE - 23/85%

FEET - 8/15 Units

PHALLUS - 5/9 Units

The standardized inputs confused Craig at first, who although unable to move, still held some consciousness to the situation around him. After the first bones began to crack however, he began to understand the situation a bit more. Fearfully, Craig desperately attempted to move any portion of his body while tendons and ligaments shifted and expanded. As his HEIGHT bar slowly ticked further, Craig could literally hear himself stretching larger and larger, eventually reaching a height of 6’5.

Craig began to plead internally for escape as his muscles proceeded to bloat. His lanky body was quickly evolving, broadening with power. His calves and upper arms swelled, thickening with strength and testosterone. His quads widened, bolstering incredible durability along with his newly-prominent muscle gut. Craig’s seat expanded beneath him, plumping while his hardware opposite upgraded into a juicy 9 inches. Although still paralyzed, Craig’s legs were forcibly separated to accommodate the masculinized bundle, his soles inflating into obscenely large monsters.

Physicality package downloaded. Installing required MASCULINITY data points…

VOCAL HEIGHT - C5/D#4

VOCAL DEPTH - C#3/D2

FACIAL SHAPE - J

FACIAL HAIR - 2/61%

STRENGTH - 21/85%

AGGRESSION - 14/95%

Craig’s head naturally arched back as an emerging Adam’s apple distended from his neck, his vocal chords sculpting an uncommonly deep bass. His jaw was restructured as it jutted forward, stretching his nose and accentuating his brow along with it. A beard quickly grew in to cover the squaring shape, with dark hair flowing through Craig’s pits, down the sternum, across his crotch, and along his arms and legs.

Still fighting for release, Craig felt his inward ambition grow stronger, more offensive. In his mind, he had begun cursing the game, swearing to do unholy things to it and its creator once freed. His language and manner became cruder, brasher, and brutish–akin to his older brother’s demeanor that he had typically admonished. Craig's less analytical behavior distracted him from the the final set of downloads that were being made.

Finalizing Subordination supplements…

INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT - 145/60 Units

INTERPRETATIVE ANALYSIS - 97/10%

EXECUTIVE SUBORDINATION - 0/100%

Initializing GAMEPLAY package, uploading TF4971-Wolf onto virtual network…

Without realization, Craig’s protests slowly became weaker and less deliberate. His specific remarks began to loosen, his targeted opinions evaporating as the progress bars ticked towards their end quotients. While his aggressive demeanor remained, Craig gradually lost the language he wished to use. Eventually, even his reasoning was wiped away, diluting his directed anger into simplistic barbarism.

Once his numbers matched the game’s standards, Craig’s brain was completely devoid of any independent thought. His head was cluttered with only the required media truly necessary. Images of loyal men, bulky men, masculine men in specific uniforms established only one precedent. Instructions on how to shoot, when to shoot, and who to shoot became his only scripture. His mind absorbed the gameplay, understanding its commands.

Now unable to process anything but the mission, TF4971-Wolf did not comprehend his teleportation into an online match in the game. He stood at one end of a battleground, surrounded by other men with the same objective. They all wore the same camo utility pants, thick jackets, and beige caps. They held the rifles they were all programmed to easily operate.

TF4971-Wolf did not question who he was, where he was, or even why he was as he proceeded towards the battleground. He was nothing more than a strong, masculine soldier NPC with permanent instructions to follow the COD programming and win the next match.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #enforcement tf #dumbification #unintended results

201 notes · View notes

wittlesissyb4by · 7 months ago

Text

ABC Degree - Chapter 1

Marianne clutched her books tightly as she made her way through campus. 30 years ago she would have felt right at home. Laughing with the other girls by the fountain, flirting with boys by the quad, or frantically studying before an exam.

Now? She couldn’t feel more out of place, like all eyes were upon her. She imagined what people were thinking as they saw her: What does this woman think she is doing trying to get a higher education at her age?

She felt even more foolish about what she was here to study: Adult Baby Care and Development or ‘ABCD’ as the kids were calling it these days. She’d known for a while about these Adult Babies, and how they were becoming more and more common in today’s world, either by choice or by punishment. But she had no idea they would actually offer a class in a prestigious University about how to care for one. She had even less of an idea that her husband would be the one who needed caring for.

It was a little over a year ago when Jack first came to her about his diaper fetish. Throughout their 8 years of marriage, she’d always known he’d been hiding something. The way he would turn his phone ever so slightly in her presence, the way he’d make 100 different clicks on the computer as soon as she unexpectedly walked into the office, and how flushed and flustered he would get any time she used that same computer. Like he was terrified she’d stumble upon his goldmine of a porn stash.

So when Jack finally came to her and confessed his longstanding affinity for diapers, she was actually a bit relieved. At least he wasn’t cheating on her like she’d suspected. But with this new revelation came a whole host of insecurities. She saw how vulnerable he was when he approached her, how terrified he must have been to tell her. He probably thought she would just up and leave as soon as the words left his mouth. But obviously she would do nothing of the sort. He was her husband, after all. One she still loved very much. Marianne wanted Jack to know that she was happy he told her. She remembered placing her hand on his knee lovingly as he tearfully confessed what he had bottled up for so long.

That’s not to say she wasn’t a little taken aback, though. It’s not every day your husband tells you he’s been sneaking off to play with his penis inside a pair of Pampers. She certainly had her questions: how it started, when it came about, and any other girlfriends he may have told.

He mentioned a girl in college that he had gotten the nerve to confess to. She apparently laughed her way out the door and he never saw her again. So it was understandable to Marianne why Jack had taken so long to tell her: he was worried she would do the same.

But Marianne–like most wives in a happy marriage–wanted to please her husband. She can still remember how much he was shaking from being so turned on when she first wrapped that pair of AB Cushies around his leaking, throbbing cock. The pheromones coming off of him were almost tangible, and she even found herself getting a little turned on by how much it was fulfilling his desires.

But alas, once the diaper was on, she was at a loss. What was she supposed to do now? She knew Jack liked her to be dominant. But it’s not like she could very well spank him while he had a diaper on. She was never great at the dirty talking thing, no matter how hard she tried, and she wasn’t sure she could stomach changing a grown man’s dirty diaper. Sex was pretty much off the table as well. Jack wasn’t the smallest, but he wasn’t the biggest either, so it’s not like his dick could really stick out of the diaper enough to do anything with. She was at a loss. She was fine with putting him in diapers, but she didn’t know what to do once the diapers were on.

So she turned to porn. She tried finding videos to give her ideas, any little tips she could get on how to properly engage with him the way he wanted. But her research yielded very little. She found out the hard way that there was a surprisingly barren amount of Adult Diaper porn on the web. Or, at least, she wasn’t the best at finding it. Apparently a Tumblr wide purge of ‘explicit content’ didn’t help………………….

She didn’t want to turn to her girlfriends for help. She didn’t think it was her place to air her husband’s dirty laundry (or diapers) to the public. But, one night over drinks, her friend Cathy was talking about her daughter who was now in college, and that’s when she heard about the program.

“She’s majoring in ABCD.”

“Like…the alphabet?” Her other friend Erica asked with a mixture of incredulity and amusement.

They all laughed, but Cathy explained, “Apparently they teach them how to deal with those guys that are in diapers. I was a bit skeptical at first, but it turns out there are a lot of job opportunities that come with it.”

“So what does she want to do?” Erica asked.

Cathy shrugged, “She wants to be a ‘Betasitter’. Supposedly these rich couples or wives will hire her to…take care of their husband while the wife goes off with another man. Something about ‘cuckolding’ or something like that…” Cathy sighed and shrugged exasperatedly. “I don’t really get it, but it’s something she’s really passionate about, so I guess all I can do is support her.”

Marianne sipped her wine silently, but her interest was piqued. The very next day she was Googling the program and getting details on the specifics. Still a bit unsure, she decided to talk to one of the counselors.

“Yes, the Betasitting class will still be great for you. They will provide you with lots of resources and ideas to use on your husband, it will also open up more opportunities for you down the road if you want to explore it further,” the counselor explained.

Marianne was skeptical, but ever since finding out about Jack’s fetish, she realized she wasn’t participating in it as much as he probably liked. After the initial fun of it, her anxiety took over, making it feel uncomfortable for her any time it was brought up. Not that there was anything wrong with the diapers themselves, it was mostly how uneasy she was in the dominant “diaper domme” role.

So she enrolled, and that’s how she ended up here, in the ABCD building, trying to get the nerve to enter the classroom.

She watched as flock after flock of 18-24 year old girls entered the room. Feelings of regret and anxiety rising to the surface. What would they think of someone her age taking a class like this?

Finally she came to the realization that she didn’t care. She was doing this for her husband, for her marriage. She took a deep breath, clutched her books and readjusted the bag on her shoulder, grabbed the handle of the door, and entered.

The room was a little bigger than your typical classroom. It had auditorium-like seating and rows that ramped downwards to the front of the class. Marianne felt like all eyes were upon her as she entered, even if they weren’t.

She found a seat towards the back of the room, then looked around and thought better of it. She needed to be able to see the board. She gathered her things again awkwardly and moved up a few rows. Girls were still filing in, and Marianne tensed as she heard some sit down in the row behind her.

“Originally I was in Early Childcare,” one girl said to the others, “I wanted to work with toddlers at a Daycare. Turns out, I much prefer working with Adults and treating them like toddlers. Still the same dirty diapers and tantrums, but at least with adults you know what they want...and you can tease them for it!”

They all laughed and must have nodded in agreement.

“I’ve already got a job lined up” said another, “$1200 a week to betasit some rich loser that was caught cheating on his wife! She left him for another man, but still wants him in diapers 24/7. She’s gonna use his money to pay me as soon as I get my degree!”

Marianne’s eyes widened at that. Even with her business degree and healthy job she wasn’t making that good of money.

“Is someone sitting here?”

Marianne looked up to see a young, beautiful blonde girl. Her stomach tried to escape through her throat when she realized who it was: Claire, the daughter Cathy was ranting about over drinks. The one who ultimately let her know about the ABCD program.

Claire obviously recognized her too. There was that small, awkward moment of recognition before general social norms kicked in.

“Oh my god! Marianne! Hi! How are you?” Claire asked as she sat down, it would be too weird for her to take off and find another seat now. Marianne reciprocated the uncomfortable exchange of “I'm good! How are you?” Before the conversation descended into silence.

“So…” Claire finally said after what felt like ages, “why are you…taking this class?”

The elephant in the room was staring them in the face. Claire obviously knew Marianne’s husband Jack. But she didn’t want to out him in front of her and all these girls. So she said the first thing that came to mind: “I'm interested in the…business side of things.”

Claire nodded with narrow eyes, probably in disbelief, but she didn’t press further.

Luckily, Marianne was saved from any further discomfort by the door opening at the front of the room.

A woman in her mid-forties strode in, a couple years Marianne’s junior. Her salt and pepper hair tied up in a tight bun. Black, horn-rimmed glasses, fiery red lipstick, and a sharp jawline that jutted in the air as her pumps clanked on the floor rhythmically, like a Judge using their gavel to command order in the room.

There was a sharp, collective intake of breaths as conversations ceased and pencils and notebooks were taken out.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the Professor announced with a sleek smile. Every girl in the room, including Marianne, replied back in unison “Good afternoon, Professor Peterson!”

“I trust you all have your essay on Yankevitz’s Psychology of Age Regressive Therapy, so please take those out, and pass them down the line if you will.”

Marianne gulped. There was a clamor of rustling papers as the women took their printed or handwritten sheets and passed them down the row for the T.A.’s to pick up. Marianne had worried she’d be behind on assignments after signing up for the class two weeks late. Hell, even 20 years after her first bout of college life, she still had recurring nightmares of showing up to Calculus 17 and not realizing there was a final she hadn’t studied for. The anxiety associated with being a full-time college student suddenly came rushing back to her.

“We have a special lesson lined up for you today, it will be your first real ‘lab’ demonstration of this course.” Professor Peterson announced, she opened both arms wide and like clockwork the side doors on either side of the room opened. T.A.'s on both ends came in wheeling what looked like hospital beds into the room.

The girls all gasped in excitement, apparently seeing something Marianne couldn’t. When the lady sitting in front of her finally hunched back down again to gleam excitedly at her neighbor, Marianne finally caught a glimpse of what everyone was ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ about.

Inside the bars of each bed, there was a college boy squirming underneath a blanket.

******************************************************

“If you’ll all carefully make your way down so we can begin our demonstrations…” the Professor began, but the girls needed no further instruction. They already had their books and bags over their shoulders and were clambering down the stairs towards the blanketed boys. All 50 girls in the auditorium-like room were divided into groups among the 5 beds respective to their seated section. That meant Claire was in the same group as Marianne.

The 10 or so girls in the group circled around the crib-like bed. The boy inside was old enough to be Marianne’s son. He was around 20-22 years old. Further inspection yielded that the boy was, in fact, tied to the bed. His ankles and wrists strapped down with hospital restraints. He made a pathetic attempt to squirm and escape from under the bed sheet as the girls oggled and giggled.

“Now, as you can see, you each have a Betaboi in front of you.” Professor Peterson called over the groups, “Notice their less than prominent jawline, their lack of much body/facial hair, their high-pitched whimpers, and their cowering nature.”

The girls nodded their heads in agreement. Marianne couldn’t help but see the same resemblance in her husband Jack.

“Now, if you’d all be so kind as to remove the sheet, so we can see our Betabois in their appropriate attire…”

The girls all clapped their hands in excited glee, rushing to be the first to grab the hem of the sheet. Marianne seemed to be the only one interested in being a mere spectator. She watched as the girls looked around, nodded, and withdrew the sheet at the same time like a magician revealing their prestige.

The bound boy clenched his legs as the sheet was removed, like that would do anything to hide the large disposable white diaper taped around his waist. The crowd of girls erupted in laughter and awes. The boy’s cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink.

“As you learned from your reading last week, it is very important to emphasize the Beta’s attire. Remind them of their place, and that the diaper is necessary for their development.”

There was a chorus of chastising comments coming from each of the girls.

“Awww!! Wook at the wittle beta baby in his diapurr!!”

“Aren’t you just the cutest?!”

“Look at the little loser in his Luvs!!”

“Don’t you wish you could use the big boy potty like an Alpha?”

The boy winced at every mocking remark as if they were lashes from a whip. He cringed and pulled pathetically on the straps. Marianne tried to jot down some of the things the girls were saying to remember them for later, but there was too much to keep up with.

“Awww!! He went pee pee in his Pampers!!”

Marianne wasn’t sure if the boy’s diaper was wet beforehand, but it certainly was now. There was no mistaking the yellow tint forming in the front, and the big blue wetness indicator showing prominently down the middle.

As if on queue, Professor Peterson continued with her lecture. “After you have properly acknowledged their attire, it’s time to focus on the state of their attire. Be sure to comment on any observations you see about it. Poke, prod, and question them about it. You can even have them talk about their situation. Remember: verbalization is one of the highest forms of humiliation.”

Again there was a slew of comments slung at the poor boy.

“Did the wittle baby wet his diapy?”

“Beta baby went piddles in his diddles!!”

“The only wet thing your wittle clitty ever gets to touch!”

“Tell us what you did in your diaper, beta!”

The boy looked to be on the verge of tears. He screwed up his face and his bottom lip was quivering as he spoke in the most pathetic high-pitched voice “I…i went tee tee in my diapy…” The gathering girls erupted into laughter.

The boy tried to wipe his misty eyes on his shoulder, but the straps left him quite immobile.

Marianne leaned over to the girl standing next to her. “Don’t you think this is a little…harsh?”

The girl’s face was bewildered. “What…him? Oh please! Don’t let those crocodile tears fool you! He is loving this! All of them are. In fact, they sign up for this!”

“Look! He’s hard!” one girl exclaimed as the girls leaned in to observe.

“Awwww!!” They cooed. Pointing and laughing.

“His wittle pee pee is poking inside his Pampurrs!!”

Marianne didn’t believe it was possible with how ashamed the boy seemed, but sure enough, there was a very noticeable bulge forming at the front of the swollen, sodden diaper.

“And that brings us to our first demonstration!” Professor Peterson announced. “If I can have one volunteer at each station to perform a diaper change.”

Almost every hand shot in the air. Marianne chose to sit this one out. She was so overwhelmed by all the new experiences, the last thing she wanted to do was put her inexperience at the forefront of everyone’s attention.

Mrs. Peterson went down the groups, choosing one girl seemingly at random. The girls not chosen groaned in jealousy, with the selected student grinning wickedly.

When the Professor got to Marianne’s group, she pointed across the way. “Yes!!” Claire exclaimed excitedly when she realized she was picked.

The rest of the girls groaned in disappointment, but parted ways and allowed Claire to clamber onto the bed and take her place between the beta’s legs.

The boy squirmed and writhed at his bonds. Marianne wasn’t sure if he was pretending to be in distress, or trying to rearrange his bulging member inside his diaper. Either way, the onlookers found it hilarious.

Claire looked a little more unsure now that she shared the center of attention, but she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“First thing we want to do,” the Professor began, strolling back and forth amongst the groups, “Is administer the pacifier. This will immediately drop the beta into subspace. It is hard for them to argue or complain when they have something in their mouth, and it reinforces their regression.”

One of the girls in Claire’s group pulled out what looked to be a glasses case. Instead, when she popped it open, it was actually a very large pacifier. But instead of having a rubber nipple, it was an elongated rubber penis. Claire chuckled as she took the paci from the spectator, thanked her, and pressed it to the beta’s lips. Marianne expected the boy to put up more of a fight, considering how humiliating and patronizing it must have been, but instead the boy opened his mouth and accepted the penis paci down his mouth without hesitation. Almost eagerly, in fact.

“After you have adequately administered verbal degradation and provided them with a paci, it is time to remove the diaper.” Peterson declared. “Make sure to place a firm palm at the front, between the decorative banner of the diaper and the blue indicator. You should feel their stiffness through the padding. You want to press this area so that they can feel the wet padding against their stiffy. This establishes dominance, provides slight stimulation, and gives you a solid grip to begin pulling off the fastening tapes. They can be a little stickier than normal baby diapers.”

Claire followed the instructions to a T. Smirking when the beta whimpered underneath her firm hand as she removed the tapes one at a time with a tssskk!

“Remember to take a deep breath before opening the diaper! I realize your babies aren’t messy at the moment. But it’s a good habit to get into. The fresh batch of air will save you from gagging more often than not.”

Clair pulled the front of the soaked diaper open, exposing the beta’s bits to the surrounding air. Some of the girls had to turn away, covering their mouths. Not out of disgust, but out of hilarity at the little 3 inch pecker pointing straight up in the air.

“I always forget how tiny they can be!”

“That can’t be as big as it gets…can it?!”

“It amazes me that some of them think they deserve anything other than a diaper!!”

The beta had a fresh flush of blood rush to his cheeks. He tried to hide his face, but again the bonds kept him bound and exposed.

“If you will take out your supply bags, you can begin the changing process…”

Claire looked around for help. In her excitement to get on the bed with the beta, she’d left her bag on the floor in the circle of girls. Marianne reached down and grabbed the infantile looking diaper bag. Claire side-eyed and shrugged innocently as Marianne handed it to her. It was a bit awkward for them both, but with everything going on, it paled in comparison.

Claire set the bag on the bed next to her. Fishing for a package of wipes. She took them out and removed three from the container, which crinkled more than the beta’s diaper did.

“Remember, take your time. You can never get them ‘too’ clean. Every little bit of stimulation gets them that much more desperate. Either for you or for the wife that is off having her own bit of fun.”

Claire laid the cold wipe across her palm and placed it against the boy’s inner thigh. He gasped, perhaps from the chill or from the anticipation. Claire slowly ran her hand up, closer to the beta’s bobbing balls, but stopped. Jumping over the area with the wipe and continuing to the other thigh.

The boy’s breathing changed considerably, the head of his cock was swelling, his eyes were desperate. The other girls teased and pinched his nipples and cheeks, making him squirm even more from the intense stimulation.

Finally, Claire laid a new wipe over his pulsing pecker. Making it resemble an actual tent, or a tiny little ghost. The girls giggled at the ridiculous display. Claire smiled before using her whole palm to twist and turn the wipe around the boy’s cock. Making it more painful than pleasurable.

“Now, if the beta is uncaged, I always recommend a proper edging session.” Peterson professed as she strode back and forth amongst the groups, “Again, we want them as sexually frustrated as possible. It will make their eagerness to please and their obedience levels skyrocket. So if you will all carefully take your subject’s privates in your hand…”

Claire glanced over at Marianne. Neither of them really wanted to witness this in front of each other. Marianne had watched her friend’s daughter grow from a young age to the beautiful woman she is now. It was a bit abnormal to see her grasping another “man’s” penis right in front of her.

“It is very important that you watch the beta’s visual cues during this portion of the change. As you know, betas have a very difficult time controlling themselves. We do NOT want them to achieve release, we just want them right up to the edge. Hence the term ‘edging’”

Claire looked down at the helpless subject before her as she applied liberal amounts of lotion to her hands. Smiling at the obvious hold she had over him. Every single girl in this room with the exception of Marianne was here because they enjoyed that sense of power over those they found weak. Claire reached out her hand and grasped the beta’s already leaking member. Though, it was so small she couldn’t even palm it. Her hand ended up making the whole thing disappear.

“Remember, you don’t have to use your whole hand. In fact, you only need to use two fingers! This will further emphasize the inadequacy of their equipment. Simply make a ring with your fingers, or a small gap between your thumb and index...”

Claire followed the Professor’s instructions, making a small circle with her hand and putting it into the air just above the head of his twitching clitty.

The beta whimpered behind his pacifier. Raising his hips up and trying to poke his way between the tiny ring Claire had made for him. He managed to make the head slide through, but only for a bit. Falling back down on the bed and onto his used diaper. He grunted again as he summoned the strength to flex his abs and raise his hips again, pathetically humping at Claire’s stationary hand.

“Good job, Claire!” Professor Peterson cheered, “As you can see, Claire here is letting the beta do almost all of the work, another great way to establish dominance and have the change go on your own terms. Always work smarter, not harder!”

The poor boy was practically pleading with his eyes. Sucking on his oversized paci with frantic intensity. His thrusts into her lubed up palm were eager and anxious. Like he hadn’t had relief for weeks.

“Pay attention to the signs…” Peterson reminded, “See how his toes are curling? Perspiration building around the chest and temple? He’s close, when he starts to gasp, pull away.”

It was like the Professor was a fortune teller. Within seconds, the beta boy was whimpering and clenching and several quick, short, gasps later…Claire stopped. Opening her fingers just enough so that all the wiggly worm of the beta could feel was a cold breeze. An almost angry grunt escaped around the paci in the frustrated beta’s mouth.

“Awww!!!” The girls around the bed teased, “Somewon’s getting fussy and fwustwated!!”

There was an explosion of laughter, followed by shouts and jeers from the group next to them.

“Professor Peters!! Someone had an accident…” they called. The older woman rushed to other group to assess the situation. Turns out the other girl was not as successful in edging her beta, as evidenced by the massive load of sticky juices covering both the kneeling student and the naked boy beneath her.

“Seems like we waited a bit too long to withdraw the stimulation. That’s okay! I won’t dock you points as you are still learning, just make sure you learn what you did wrong and what this particular beta’s tells were. Everyone has their little ticks that give them away, and sometimes it’s just a matter of learning each individual. However, if they do begin to ejaculate, ALWAYS remove your hand as soon as possible. The lack of stimulation at this precarious time will result in what is known as a ‘ruined orgasm’. It provides some of the relief the sub desperately wants, but without the associated pleasure of a full orgasm. Not to worry, dear. We’ll get ‘em next time! But just be aware that your future clients may not take lightly to having their husband’s achieve any sort of release. So keep that in mind.”

The girl seemed embarrassed as Peterson walked away without another word, the group of girls around her and the spent beta put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

Claire now seemed even more determined to do it right. Edging the beta 5 more times until his balls were noticeably swollen and aching. The poor beta could probably be heard across campus if it weren’t for the penis paci muffling his sobs.

“If you have made it this far into the edging session, give yourself a pat on the back!” Professor Peterson declared, the girls around Claire and one other group clapped and cheered.

“The next part is where their preference sheet comes in,” Peterson continued after the room quieted down, “Again, every client is different, but some will have the box checked that allows for optional or even mandatory ‘milkings’. The wife or caretaker of the beta will often be specific as to how the milking can be administered, but I’ll show you one of my favorite ways: a procedure known as ‘milking the prostate’.”

Half of the room gasped, the other half looked around bewildered.

Peterson clicked the device in her hand, and a Powerpoint presentation detailing the specifics of the male ‘g-spot’, also known as the prostate, appeared on the screen. Through a series of slides the Professor explained that one of the best ways to stimulate this area is by using two fingers inserted into the rectum of the beta.

“It will be about the size of walnut, though some studies have shown that betas tend to exhibit a much larger sized prostate, which is why a lot of them are more prone to enjoying anal activity. Simply insert the lubricated fingers, point upwards just behind where the base of the penis is, and press lightly.”

Claire followed along with the Professor’s presentation by practicing on the beta in front of her. She put on a latex glove, lubed up her fingers with more lotion, pressed her palm against the pelvis of the boy, reached between his legs, found the hole, and pressed inwards.

Marianne will never forget the sound the beta made as Claire entered him. She was always hesitant to try things like this with Jack, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear those same sounds come from him.

The beta’s breathing was much more measured now. Like he wasn’t excited, but wasn’t being tortured either. One of the girl’s stroked his hair while another whispered in his ear to relax and ‘take it like a good boi’.

“OoooOOoohhh” the boy cooed as Claire worked her fingers inside him.

“That’s it, Claire!” Peterson encouraged, “right there! That’s the sound we want. Do you feel the walnut?”

Claire nodded and screwed her face up in concentration. Biting her bottom lip as she worked her hand and fingers back and forth inside him.

The beta was moaning now. Like he was experiencing the most intense pleasure he ever felt. Claire had to use her other hand to hold him still while she worked her fingers in and out of him.

“He’s close. Finish the job.” Peterson prodded, and Claire obliged.

The beta was rocking up and down on the bed, tugging at his bonds, moaning pathetically.

“Yes! Yesss! Yess!! I’m gonnNna..”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence, the puny penis pulsed and a projectile of semen shot into the air, then more oozed down the shaft and dribbled down his balls.

The crowd gasped and clapped. Even Marianne threw her notebook under her armpit and joined in the applause.

“Well done, Claire!” Professor Peterson commended, “you have a bright future ahead of you!”

Claire smiled sheepishly as she pulled out several more wipes and began cleaning up the beta’s baby batter.

“We are almost out of time,” Peterson announced, checking her watch, “so let’s all take out a fresh diaper and learn how to properly prepare it for application.”

Every girl in the room reached into their bags and pulled out a large, fluffy diaper of varying colors and designs. Except for Marianne, who must have missed it on the supply list.

“Do you mind if I borrow…” Marianne asked the girl next to her. She smiled sweetly and obliged by handing her a pink, princess diaper with unicorns and flowers all over it. It was a bit of a strange design, she thought. Weren’t the people that wore diapers this size mostly males?

“It is very important when you have a new diaper to do what I call the ‘Fluffing Technique’” Peterson instructed, using a diaper of her own as a demonstration. “Most of them come vacuum or hermetically sealed, and they lose most of their volume. We obviously don’t want a flat, puny diaper, we want big, bulky diapers that force the wearer to waddle. So in order to fluff it up, simply open it up, and fold it down the middle, ‘hotdog style’ like this…”

She held the diaper aloft so all could see and follow along.

“This begins the aeration process and creates a sort of channel for the messes to travel, helping to ensure you don’t have as many leaks. Once you have that crease, grab it on both the edges and wriggle it back and forth like this, almost like you’re activating a disposable heating pad.”

There was a cacophony of crinkles as the 50 women shook the sides of the diapers back and forth.

“We are fluffing up the inner material and letting those layers breathe. Again, ensuring that we’re adding bulk and reaching peak absorbency. Your clients will thank you for going through less diapers, and for making their hubby’s look even cuter!!”

There were murmurs of agreement and awes. Even comparisons between the girls as to who got their diaper the fluffiest.

“Now take those diapers home with you and practice applying them to a stuffed animal, your boyfriend, or anyone you can! That concludes today’s session! Have a great day!”

The auditorium rumbled as the girls grabbed their things and filed out. The betas in the beds were wheeled out by the T.A.’s.

Marianne waited behind, stuffing the pink diaper into her bag that the girl graciously let her have.

“Excuse me, Professor Peterson?” Marianne asked, approaching the desk where her teacher was rounding up her things.

“Yes dear?” She said, without looking up at first. When her eyes rose to see the speaker for the first time, there was a look of recognition and sympathy in them.

“My name is Marianne Olsen and I…I just wanted to say thanks for the lesson today. I’m sorry I didn’t get that paper in, and didn’t have my supplies b-but I—“

“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Peterson asked.

Marianne was a bit taken back by the question. ”F-fifty-two” she answered, feeling self conscious again.

Peterson smiled, nodded and removed her glasses.

“And why are you here?”

“I…well my uh…my husband has an…ummm—“

“A diaper fetish.” Peterson finished for her without even blinking.

“Yes.”

The Professor stared at her for a long while, then smiled. “I admire you, Mrs. Olsen” she finally said.

“I…you do?”

Peterson smiled again “Yes. Few women, especially your age (no offense) would be willing to put forth the effort to accommodate for what is often seen as a very taboo and misunderstood fetish. Most women would run, but you stayed. Not only that, you signed up for a class to better understand and provide for your husband. I deeply admire that.”

Marianne’s eyes started misting. She had been so unsure about this whole thing and, up until that very moment, felt like it was all a mistake.

“The world is changing, Marianne.” Peterson continued, “People are not only seeing diapers as a fetish anymore, but also as a very effective method of punishment, control, humiliation, and therapy. There are going to be many business and recreational opportunities in this field in the not so distant future, and I really hope you will see this class as more of a stepping stone rather than just a way to help get your husband off.”

“I…I guess I never considered—“

“You’re a powerful woman with a good head on her shoulders and the desire to learn and please. I am confident you will get more out of this class than you ever thought possible.”

“Thank you, Professor Peterson.”

“No, thank you. But in the interest of being consistent with all my students, I am going to need your essay by the end of the week.”

“Consider it done, ma’am!”

*******

By the time she got home, Marianne was exhausted. She placed her bag on the coat rack, went to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine, and sighed exasperatedly as she sat next to Jack on the couch.

“Hi honey,” Jack said, “how was class?”

“It was good,” she said as she poured herself a glass of Cabernet, “Now go get your diapers and bring them to me. Then take off your clothes. I have some...studying to do!”

To Be Continued

Click HERE to read Chapter 2!!

#abcdegree #abc degree #WSB Story #WSB Stories

239 notes · View notes

thedemoninme141 · 1 month ago

Text

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 9: Her Diary.

Summary: Wednesday finally learns the truth of her heartbeat.

Warnings: Angst.. that's it.. Brace yourself.

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

Worklist

Wednesday sat there, in her dorm, right in front of the half-colored half-dead window. Your diary in her hand. And for the first time in her life, Wednesday felt anger. Her grip tightened around the leather-bound book, her mind racing back to the events of the day, replaying everything that had led her to this moment.

For the last week, your routine that she had become so frustratingly familiar with, she knew exactly when you would arrive, walking beside her on the path to the quad. You always matched her pace exactly—neither too fast nor too slow, as if you had studied her rhythms. You’d offer her that smile, that annoying smile that.. somewhere along the way.. became something else. She couldn’t deny the way it made her feel. The way you would make light of her morbid comments, occasionally twisting them into something absurd enough to pull the corners of her mouth up against her will.

That was the routine. The one she didn't realize she had become... dependent on. And so, you'd be with her, irritating her with nonsense that barely passed for humor, until Enid and the others inevitably joined so you can have some other brains to feed upon.

Wednesday had expected that whatever had weighed on you during dinner last night, making you quiet and distant, would be gone today. That you’d be back to your usual self—joking, teasing, filling the silence she pretended to crave but apparently, had become used to not having around.

But you weren’t there.

Wednesday walked alone to the quad for breakfast. She told herself she relished this solitude. She always had. It was better to be alone. She had no interest in meaningless companionship.

And yet...

Her brooding was interrupted when Enid arrived with her usual chirpiness, dropping into the seat across from her. Bianca, Eugene, and Yoko filtered in after her, each one chatting idly about the trivialities of their futile lives.

You showed up late—very late. You didn’t rush over to her side, didn’t crack one of your jokes about how Wednesday looked like she was plotting everyone’s demise before breakfast. No, instead, you moved silently through the quad, finally sitting beside her. Giving her a small smile but not your annoying "Good morning". Wednesday tried to ignore the fact that you might've sat beside her because it was the last empty seat at the table.

The group carried on their conversation, and you didn't join in. You weren’t engaging like you usually did. Instead, you stared at your food, poking at it without much interest. Wednesday noted the slight hunch in your shoulders.

So did Enid.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice rising with concern, “is everything okay? You’ve been super quiet lately.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, what’s up with you? It’s not like you to sit there and say nothing.”

You lifted your head and offered a smile. The kind of smile that might have fooled anyone else, but not Wednesday. She saw it. She always saw it. It was the same smile you gave her when you had spoken about your mother, the same smile you gave to everyone during yesterday's dinner, the one that concealed the truth.

“I’m fine,” you said, the warmth in your tone sounding hollow. “I just don’t have anything interesting to say today.”

Wednesday’s grip on her fork tightened, the cool metal pressing into her palm. Nothing interesting to say? That was a lie. What about the chaos at the camp? What about the fact that you always had something to say, especially something to annoy her? Where were the sarcastic comments, the little jabs meant to get under her skin? The sheer absurdity of yesterday’s events alone—the dinner, Brooke setting Rick’s car on fire, should have been more than enough for you to comment on. In fact, you should have been joking about it already, turning it into some elaborate metaphor or mocking everyone’s ridiculousness, including hers.

But you didn’t. You sat there, offering nothing.

The rest of the group continued their conversation, trying to include you, but even they could sense the tension.

Then, something even more off-putting happened.

Normally, Wednesday would finish her breakfast first, ready to leave

and that would be the moment you’d follow, no matter how much food was still left on your plate. You would never miss an opportunity to annoy her by sticking by her side, even when she’d made it clear you weren’t wanted—or so she claimed.

But this time, you were the one to leave first. Halfway through your breakfast, you stood, nodding vaguely to the group before walking away.

Wednesday’s gaze followed you as you left. The quiet, the distance—it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Everyone turned to Wednesday as if expecting an explanation.

“What?” she snapped, her patience already worn thin.

Eugene adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “So... what did you do?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t say anything mean to her, did you? You’re not usually the sensitive type, but come on.” Enid frowned.

"Of course not," Wednesday replied icily, though her mind was already sifting through your last conversations. Had she? No. She had been...normal. Or at least, as normal as she could be with you.

Yoko added with a smirk, "Maybe you gave her one of those classic Wednesday death threats."

Bianca leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Well, whatever it is, I bet Wednesday’s just happy she’s finally getting some peace and quiet.”

That set something off in her. The audacity. The idea that she was... relieved you weren’t paying her any attention. Wednesday’s hand slammed down on the table, the loud thud silencing the chatter instantly. She stood up abruptly, ignoring their startled looks, and stormed out of the quad.

As she walked, her mind raced. What was happening? What had changed? Why were you pulling away from her? She retraced her steps, trying to think if she had said something, done something to push you away. No. Just a day ago, you had been fine—irritating as always, but fine. Something had changed between dinner and this morning, and it was eating away at her.

By the time she reached the classroom, her hands were balled into fists at her sides. She was going to get answers. She wasn’t going to let this silence stretch any further.

When she entered the classroom, she expected it to be empty but you were already there, sitting alone at your desk. You were hunched over something, your attention fixed on a open diary that you clutched in your hands.

The moment you saw her standing in the doorway, you jumped, quickly shutting the diary and tucking it into your bag.

She approached you, her eyes narrowing as she studied your face. There was something in your eyes—something that unsettled her. Fear? Nervousness? No, it was deeper than that. She just couldn't see it, the emotion you were trying so hard to hide.

"What’s going on with you?" Wednesday asked, her voice low and controlled, but with an edge that only you could detect.

You blinked, looking at her as though she had just spoken in a language you didn’t understand. "What do you mean?"

"You’re not yourself," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "You haven't been yourself at yesterday's dinner. You haven’t been for the entire morning. You’ve been quiet."

You frowned, shaking your head as if brushing off the accusation. "I talked, didn’t I?"

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You used to talk enough to drive me to homicide. Now you’re barely saying a word. And you are avoiding me."

You looked away, your fingers brushing the edge of the desk. "Everything’s fine, Wednesday. I haven’t been avoiding you. I was literally right beside you at breakfast."

That wasn’t what she meant. Not at all. What she wanted to say—the words that hovered dangerously close to her lips—was that you weren’t spending enough time with her. That your absence, your distance, had left an unsettling void. But her pride, her damned ego, wouldn’t let her say it.

Before she could press you further some students began filing in the room.

Wednesday’s gaze lingered on you, searching your face for answers that you weren’t giving. But whatever it was, you were good at hiding it.

She sat down beside you, her body stiff, her chaotic thoughts were already ordering themselves.

Her proximity wasn’t about closeness.

It was a strategy.

Her mind had already locked onto a new target.

That diary.

Since you won't give her a straight answer, she would have to find it out herself.

She was going to get that diary.

One way or another.

Instead of heading to the quad during lunch, she diverted her path to her dorm. She needed to put her plan into action.

“Thing,” Wednesday called as soon as she entered her room.

The disembodied hand appeared instantly, crawling out from under the bed.

“I need you to retrieve something for me,” she continued, her voice cold “Y/N’s diary. It’s in her bag. Don’t return until you have it.”

Thing scampered off, leaving Wednesday alone in the room.

She stood still for a moment, feeling an unusual pang of hesitation. This wasn’t her first time invading someone’s privacy, and normally she took a strange satisfaction in uncovering secrets. But this time felt different. There was something about you—about this situation—that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away. She needed to know what was going on. There was no time for sentimentality.

By the time Wednesday arrived at lunch, you were already seated, your eyes fixed on your barely touched food. Enid and Yoko were seated beside you, engrossed in their conversation, but you weren’t paying any attention. Your fork scraped along the plate, but you barely took a bite.

You haven't even noticed her glaring yet and that only confirmed it—something was terribly wrong.

Wednesday sat down across from you, her eyes narrowing. It was only then that you glanced up at her, your eyes locking onto hers for the briefest moment. You smiled—that goddamn smile again. It had always irritated her, but now, seeing it tainted by something so… vulnerable, she felt something she didn’t want to feel.

As she sat there, she watched you. And in the corner of her eye, she caught the blur of Thing, creeping under the table toward your bag. The plan was in motion.

She needed to distract you. She needed to give Thing time.

“Still not back in your usual mood?” she remarked, her voice devoid of its usual venom, as she met your gaze.

You blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing your face before you offered that same empty smile. “Just tired,” you replied, shrugging. “Nothing to worry about.”

Wednesday wasn’t buying it. Not for a second.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so only you could hear. “Did I do something to offend you?” The words felt foreign on her tongue, strange and wrong. She had never cared before if she offended someone. Hell, she usually went out of her way to ensure she did.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then—almost as if it physically pained you. "It’s nothing you did. I promise I’m fine, Wednesday. You don’t need to worry." you said as if it was a crime for her to even consider that she might have been the reason for your change in behavior.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t a fool, and she hated being treated like one. Before she could say anything more, you suddenly reached for your bag, pulling it up onto your lap. Wednesday’s eyes widened, and for a split second, she worried that Thing hadn’t finished his task yet.

“Actually, I should probably get going,” you muttered, standing up a little too quickly. “I’ve got some things to take care of.”

Wednesday watched, frozen for a second, as you swung the bag over your shoulder and hurriedly walked away from the table.

Thing crawled out from beneath the bench, the diary gripped tightly in his fingers. Wednesday gave him a nod, silently instructing him to deliver it to the dorm. Without hesitation, he obeyed. Wednesday exhaled before heading for her dorm. She knew she wouldn't really be able to focus on the rest of the classes knowing the diary that hid your truth, your real truth is waiting for her on her table.

"Did Wednesday just ask someone if she had been offensive?" Enid whispered to Yoko, eyes wide with disbelief.

Yoko was as shocked as Enid, "I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of the apocalypse."

The diary was exactly where Wednesday expected Thing to leave it, on her table, ready for her. As she reached for it, her fingers hesitated over the it, her breath momentarily catching in her throat. Why was she hesitating? She never hesitated. She wasn’t the type to second-guess her actions, and yet here she was, her hand frozen above a simple book, conflicted about what she might find within

Her fingers finally made contact with the cover, cool and smooth, but she didn’t open it yet. Instead, she let her thoughts drift back to you—your quiet smiles, even when they annoyed her. The way you looked at her, like you saw something more than the darkness she wore like a shield. But that was just an illusion, wasn’t it? It had to be, because clearly you were hiding something big.

Wednesday inhaled sharply, pulling herself out of her reverie. This is ridiculous, You were just another puzzle. Another person who had gotten too close. She had dealt with this before, someone trying to peel back the layers of her armor, who claimed to understand her just like you did. And now, finally, she would see your true intentions laid out in front of her. What's the worst that can happen? Surely you aren't a Hyde.

But that wasn’t what she was afraid of, was it?

No. What she was really afraid of—though she’d never admit it—was what she might find. What if you had written something about her? What if you’d said something that confirmed all her worst fears about your... this.. whatever this is.. or..was?

Just open it, she told herself again. Get it over with. It’s just a stupid diary. Cringe feelings and teenage nonsense.

With a swift motion, she opened the diary, flipping it to the first page.

And then she stopped.

This wasn’t what she had expected at all.

There were no sappy confessions of love, no teenage angst poured onto the pages. No, this was something different. It wasn't a diary at all.

Instead, she found… a list. Some sort of to-do list, or something idiotic she had learned from Enid, a bucket list.

"Play in the snow with a friend" was one of the first unticked entries. Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. That sounded... oddly easy for someone like you, someone who pretended to be so carefree. You had always made light of serious things, shrugged off the heaviness of life. And yet here you were, yearning for something as simple as playing in the snow.

Next was "Visit a beach at sunset", also unticked. The corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitched in mild irritation. Beaches were disgusting places. Sand, heat, and people. Of course you wanted to experience that. But with whom?

“Play with butterflies.” There were little blue butterflies doodled in the margins next to each one, fluttering as if they were dancing along the edges of the paper.

Then the next wish—“Catch light.” How is that even possible?

This diary was about all of the version of you—the one with kindness and compassion—conflicted with the sarcastic, lighthearted person she knew. But maybe that was the point. Maybe you were more than the one side you showed her. Maybe you had always been more, and she just hadn’t bothered to look deep enough. Or maybe... maybe you were hiding all this from her on purpose.

Her fingers traced the ink, almost reverently. The wishes weren’t grandiose or outlandish. They were simple, human, full of the kind of sentiment she despised. But why did these wishes—why did you—make her feel something she couldn’t quite name?

There were some completed ones, “Learn how to play the guitar.” A photograph of you, laughing, holding a guitar as if it were the most precious thing in the world. “Volunteer at a shelter.” There was a picture of you, smiling with a group of people, holding a cat in your arms.

Visit a foreign country. Paint a picture, no matter how messy, and other simple goals. And then..

She paused on the next entry, her heart skipping a beat as her eyes scanned the words: "Unite two hearts." It was ticked, of course, and there were pictures attached to this one too. The wedding of that old lady... little cupcake?

Wednesday’s stomach twisted in realization. So that’s why you’d asked her for help in breaking Little Cupcake out of that asylum? All for this? All for a silly bucket list item? Anger flared up inside her, sharp and sudden. She gripped the edge of the diary, her knuckles turning white. This was what she had been pulled into? Some childish fantasy about fulfilling a series of wishes. She felt her anger rise. You had dragged her into that ridiculous scheme, had made her bend her own rules, all for this? A stupid checklist? She wanted to crumple the diary in her hands, to throw it against the wall. But she didn’t. Instead, she flipped to the next page, her breathing shallow, her pulse quickening with a mix of fury and confusion. There it was...

Save a life

Wednesday froze, her eyes locked on the words. A blue butterfly, much like the ones she had seen scattered throughout the rest of the diary, but this one was different. It was reaching out toward another butterfly.

A black butterfly.

It was her.

You had drawn her as the black butterfly.

The wish—Save a life—was about her.

The black butterfly was her, and the blue one was you, fluttering around, trying to bring light into her world. This entire time, you had been reaching out to her. You had befriended her, gotten close to her, not because of some genuine connection, but because of this ridiculous wish. You wanted to save her. You had seen her as some kind of project, something broken that you could fix. This was why you had sought her out. Not because you wanted to be near her, but because she was just a box to tick in your stupid game.

She felt sick.

Was that it? Was that what this was all about? You befriending her, getting close to her, all because of this stupid bucket list? Because you wanted to check off “Save a life” from your list? She had been reduced to a project, a goal for you to achieve.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the diary tighter, her knuckles turning white. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to throw something across the room. How dare you? How dare you make her feel something, only for it to be part of some ridiculous plan?

And yet, beneath the anger, there was something else. Something that terrified her more than the fury she felt. Betrayal. Hurt.

She felt betrayed.

You weren’t supposed to matter to her. You were supposed to be an annoyance, a distraction, a fleeting presence in her life. But now, with this revelation, it all came crashing down. You had meant something to her. You had wormed your way into her carefully constructed walls, and now she was left standing in the wreckage of what she had thought was... something more.

Wednesday slammed the diary shut, her hands shaking with barely-contained rage. You had betrayed her in the worst possible way. You had made her feel things—things she didn’t want to feel—and all for the sake of some pathetic wish.

Her feet moved quickly, almost as if they were carrying her of their own, her mind swirling with anger and betrayal. She wouldn’t let you get away with this. Not without an explanation. Not without understanding why you had done it.

She had searched your dorm first, expecting you to be there but you weren't there. Of course she didn't stop looking for you, you couldn’t hide from her, not after what she had discovered.

As she passed by the library, the greenhouse, the main halls, her frustration only grew. Where were you? She needed to see you, to look you in the eyes and demand answers.

Finally, she found you near the quad. She stopped for a moment, observing you. You weren’t just standing; you were pacing, mumbling something to yourself. There was an urgency in the way you moved, a nervousness, a tension that she could sense even from a distance. It was as if you were searching for something- your diary. You looked like you were about to break down. The sight of you like this… she wanted to be furious, to unleash her rage upon you for betraying her trust, but now… she found it hard to focus on that anger when she saw the distress in your every movement. Wednesday clenched her jaw. She wasn’t here to feel pity. She was here for answers. You didn’t notice her at first, too lost in your own world of anxiety. It wasn’t until she was nearly upon you that you turned around, startled by her sudden presence.

“Wednesday—” you began, your voice shaky, unsure as if you could sense the anger radiating from her.

Without a word, Wednesday thrust the diary into your arms. The force of the gesture made you stumble back slightly, clutching the book to your chest as though it were the most precious thing in the world. Your eyes, already glassy with unshed tears, blinked rapidly as some drops fell. You looked down at the diary and then back at her.

"Why do you have this?" you whispered, your voice trembling. Your grip on the book tightened, and Wednesday could see the pain etched into every line of your face. "Why, Wednesday?"

The sight of your tears stirred something deep within her, but she pushed it down, burying it beneath her rising fury. This wasn’t about your tears. This was about her—about the betrayal she felt. She couldn’t let you manipulate her any further.

“Why?” Wednesday’s voice was sharp, cutting through the space between you like a blade. "You want to know why I have this? Because I thought—" She stopped herself, the anger surging again. "No. I hoped you were different. I hoped you didn’t have some ulterior motive like everyone else who tries to get close to me. But it turns out I was wrong. You’re just like the rest of them."

You flinched, your eyes wide, but before you could say anything, Wednesday continued, "You were filling out a stupid bucket list the whole time. Befriending me wasn’t because you cared or because you found something in me worth staying for. It was because I was part of some ridiculous plan to check off ‘save a life’ and ‘unite two hearts.’ What a joke. What were you thinking? That you can somehow change me into something you deem better?”

"Wednesday—" you started, but she cut you off again, her voice rising.

"Is that why you started ignoring me?" Her words dripped with accusation. "Because I was no longer necessary for your wish list? Have I become obsolete now that you’ve played your part in my life? Unite two hearts, playing with people's lives as if its a game to you. Is life and death just a joke to you?"

“A joke?” Your voice was shaky, but there was a fierce edge to it now, one that Wednesday hadn’t anticipated. "Life and death have been playing a joke on me for as long as I can remember! Constantly throwing me between the two, dragging me from one to the other.”

You stepped closer, and for a moment, the raw emotion in your eyes made Wednesday falter. Your tears fell faster now, your voice shaking as you continued.

“This stupid bucket list?” You gestured to the diary, your hands shaking as you held it out. “These aren’t just random wishes. They are my last wishes.”

Wednesday’s heart stopped. She could feel the air in her lungs freeze as the meaning behind your words slowly began to sink in. Your last wishes. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

“I’m dying, Wednesday,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “My heart is giving up. It’s only a matter of time before it stops, and I don’t know if I’ll even have enough time to finish these wishes before life and death finally decide to end the joke.”

Wednesday’s mind scrambled to grasp the full extent of what you were saying, but she was at a loss. She didn’t know what to feel—anger, confusion, guilt, sadness. All of them were swirling inside her, an unfamiliar chaos she wasn’t equipped to handle.

“I thought I could make the most of the time I have left,” you whispered, your voice so soft now, so fragile. “I thought I could fulfill these wishes, make something of the time I had left, and then I met you. You… you made me forget, even if just for a little while.” You looked at her, eyes filled with tears, and Wednesday felt her chest tighten painfully.

Her jaw tightened, her lips pressing together in a thin line as she tried to rein in the storm brewing inside her. Her fingers curled tighter around the diary, the leather binding creaking under the pressure, but still, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

She had come here expecting to be angry, to demand answers, but now she was standing in front of you, hearing the truth, and all she could feel was… nothing. Numbness. Confusion. Shock. The truth you had just laid bare was too much for her to process, too much for her to handle.

You shoved the diary back into her hands, the force of it jolting her from her paralysis. She looked down at it, the weight of it now felt unbearable.

“Keep it,” you said, your voice bitter and broken. “Go ahead. See for yourself all the jokes life has played on me.”

Before Wednesday could say a word, you turned and walked away.

She watched, frozen, as you made your way past the quad, past the gates of Nevermore, disappearing outside her view.

She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to process the emotions swirling inside her. Anger, guilt, sadness—all of it mingled together, choking her, suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to find some way to make sense of it all, but she couldn’t. All she could do was stand there, the diary heavy in her arms.

Eventually, she forced herself to her feet, her body moving on autopilot as she made her way back to her dorm. She didn’t remember the walk back; it was a blur, a haze of numbness.

And so,

Wednesday sat there, in her dorm, right in front of the half-colored half-dead window.Your diary in her hand. And for the first time in her life, Wednesday felt anger true, deep, burning anger—at herself.

Anger burned through her veins, hot and suffocating, an unfamiliar fire she couldn’t control. She had let you in, allowed you to become something more than just a nuisance, and now, you were leaving. No. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything. Not after the torture of your presence, the endless conflict she had endured because of you. You had wormed your way into her life, into her thoughts, into her very soul, and now… now you thought you could just leave?

Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her hands tightening around the edges of your diary. You had forced her to feel things she had never wanted to feel, emotions that had no place in her carefully constructed world. You had made her question everything—her control, her cold detachment, her very nature. And now, you were ripping that away, leaving her with nothing but an ache in her chest and a void she couldn’t name.

How dare you.

No, you don’t get to leave. Not yet.

You had tortured her with your presence, with your warmth and your stupid smiles and your pathetic jokes. You had made her care, against her will, against everything she stood for. And now, you thought you could just disappear, leaving her to pick up the pieces?

Absolutely not.

If she had to suffer through your presence, through the chaos you had brought into her life, then so would you. She wouldn’t let you walk away. Not like this.

But how can she fix this, whatever this was... does she want "this" to stay as "this" or.. does she want this to be something more?

She sighed as she stood up. the diary still clutched in her hand.

Your wishes, simple and easy, yet so complicated... Because..

You hadn't found the person worthy to spend them with.

Play in the snow with a friend.

NEXT CHAPTER

[Author's note: Sorry for the late update, so this is it, this is kinda Season 1 of Her Heartbeat lol, I am going on a vacation for a week so it might take some time till the next update. TELL ME "YOUR WISHES" AND I MIGHT PUT THEM IN THE FUTURE CHAPTERS IF THEY ARE CUTE ENOUGH!!!]

111 notes · View notes