#and the only thing to make this worth is to do everything to stop this larger threat

[readychilledwine]

can we have rhysand with an emotional reader again? maybe meetings made her feel unsupported

A Heavy Burden

Summary - After a long day of tense negotiations, Rhysand finds his wife wondering if this all was worth it.

Warnings - mental health, implied misunderstanding and communication, implied Azriel was illiterate fan theory, slight misogynistic thing when you consider the places reader was dealing with

A/n - Slowly but surely, you all are about to see the mass amount of things I have queued from old and new requests. All almost 48 and counting of them 🫠 2025 goals include getting better at getting to what is sent to me faster, along with finding a better system for requests so I'm maybe only working with 5 at a time instead of pressuring myself to put out requests instantly.

✨️Rhysand Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

The clanging of your crown in the marbled floor was the first thing that caught Rhysand's attention. The second was you sitting on the balcony in your dress, in the middle of a cold night, just being still. Today had been, for a lack of better terms, a nightmare. 

Your proposal for remodeling the Illyrian camps had been met with conflict and comments regarding if you truly had power.

Your proposal for creating a shelter system for females and children in Hewn City was met with questions of your status and abilities.

Your family dinner at home hadn't even been safe from remarks from the Inner Circle that he knew had you questioning how they saw you.

He shouldn't have been surprised by you doing this by tossing the symbol of your power aside like it was nothing. Your ideas were frequently met with debate, tension, and sometimes, his advisors screaming like children at each other. As a test, you once had him present the idea you had for it. It had been met with excitment until the passing of the paprrs was signed and stamped by you.

You had a habit of smiling in the face of adversity. Taking a gentle approach instead of using the authority he had given you. You had become the kindness to his image of cruelty. A match many felt was odd but truly made by the Cauldron for balance. You shouldered it all well, but even you, his strong wife, had a breaking point. 

Rhys moved with near silence to you, lowering himself behind you and knowing it was serious this time when you didn't make a joke over his knees popping. “Talk to me,” he murmured as he pulled you to him, wings appearing to wrap around you as if they were a shield.

You only sighed, chin resting on your knees, “I feel insufficient. I feel like no one believes in me. I feel like I'm just here as a glorified placeholder.”

Rhysand hummed, kissing the skin of your bare shoulder, “What about today do you feel made you feel that way?”

“How everything I purposed for the two areas begging the most for change was met. Illyria acknowledges that the camps are rundown. I purpose a cycle of upgrades, funded by us, by the way, that would allow the camps to be safer, warmer, and have more resources. I am told I don't understand Illyrians and what the camps need despite my plans being based on the needs given to Cassian and I.”

You took a breath, eyes shutting to relax and fight tears before continuing. “When we then spend the second portion of our day in Hewn City. I am addressing the so-called concern for female and children resources. It is meant with your uncle screaming at a more forward moving male that I'm powerless. I have no clue what females need, which is odd since I am one. Then, lastly, my proposals do not matter.”

Rhys nodded, nose buried in your hair to calm himself at the memory of everything, “Then we come home and instead of being met with support-”

“Our family tells me I need to take my heart out of things and start acting like a ruthless High Lord and stop offering mercy. That that is the only way fae will ever actually respect me."

“Thus attacking your character when you were already in a fragile state and needing support instead of, well, we will call it constructive criticism, though, I know it did not feel that way.” His voice was soft in your ear, offering that comfort you had been seeking.  “And, y/n, your heart does not need to be taken out of the conversation. Your heart is why I pursued you. It's why we are married. Why I didn't care a mating bond had landed into place yet. Your heart chose me. It is precious to me. It belongs in the decisions we, as High Lord and Lady, make.”

Another soft kiss was placed on your shoulder. Then the nape of your neck, pressing in  as if he could make every nerve in your body calm down with just the strength of his love. “I will handle Azriel and Amren,” he assured you. “Though, I do suspect Azriel realized his comment came across much harsher than intended.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, “He's 538 years old. He's been with you all and consistently speaking and socializing for over 525 years. He shouldn't continue to be coddled for his childhood illiteracy and lack of social understanding, especially when we hold a barely 21 year old Feyre to higher standards.”

You felt his shift, the deep sigh as his forehead touched the back of your neck, “He doesn't mean to be harsh with you. Please consider what he does for a living, who he is normally dealing with.”

You nodded, “But he also needs to consider time and place then.”

“He knows, trust me.” You did chuckle at that, knowing your husband was more than likely being yelled at for access to you. His calloused hand moved into the dip of your dress, stopping once it rested over your heartbeat. “This is the most beautiful thing in my world. The most important thing.” He subconsciously synced his breathing to yours, only content once the two of you were in harmony. “I know a heart can be a heavy burden, darling. I know it seems easier to shut it out right now. I know it feels like you should become more cold. I know you're hurting.”

The tears began then. Your thumb moving to wipe them away, “I just feel wearing my heart on my sleeve is counterproductive to what the Court needs-”

“The court needs more of it, actually,” he immediately stopped you, knowing where this was going. “The court as a whole needs more care and heart, Y/n. Change begins when one person cares enough to push for it, and even the smallest stone will make ripples. You have inspired me to take better control of Illyria and Hewn City. You have inspired countless in Velaris to work to help the Court's lower income families. You have inspired my heart, my darling.”

He pulled you impossibly closer, “Be glad of your big heart, y/n. Pity those who don't feel anything at all." One last soft kiss touched the back of your neck. “Come bathe with me. Let's wash today away.”

The idea had your body already relaxing as he stood, knees popping again. “Old ass male.” And there it was. A sign of you. A sign you would be okay. A sign you would fight.

“Cruel little thing,” he purred back. “Mocking my war injuries.” He pulled you up before a tendril of darkness and starlight handed him your crown. “Put this back on. You dropped it.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

meet me in the afterglow ✧.

s. todoroki x reader. y/a shouto

more boyfriend thoughts, nsfw below the divider, f! reader for that portion. for his birthday 🫧

inspired by afterglow

shouto todoroki, who isn’t the greatest at feelings. who expresses himself largely through actions, rather than words. who is scared that if he opens his mouth he’ll blow things out of proportion and colour you blue. who has grown up always on survival mode, never really knowing when he’s safe, seeing the people who we’re supposed to love him hurt him. who at first, jails you for things you don’t do, thinking he has reason to attack, before realizing you’re one of the few people he can confide in. from there, he’s stuck to you like glue.

shouto todoroki, who doesn’t want to break what he loves so much. who is smart, able to read you and the looks on your face. who comes across as cold and unexpressive, a bit of an asshole. but who is actually very observant, and a great listener, tilting his head and urging you to go on. who doesn’t ask “how was your day?” but instead says “tell me about your day”, wanting to know every detail. who listens with a content smile, forgetting everything else in the world but you.

shouto todoroki, who isn’t really terrified of losing what you have. who constantly self-sabotages, sometimes without realizing it, because he’d rather be alone than be left behind. who has to face the truth that he’s the one burning you down, getting into his own head about his fears. who melts like ice when you finally confront him, calling him out for the idiot he is, knowing that deep down? he doesn’t wanna do this to you. who doesn’t want you to go.

shouto todoroki, who is a gentleman in a world of boys. who calls you beautiful, darling, love, or anything that graces your face with a rose coloured hue. who is the king of romantic dates, backhugs, and forehead kisses. who wants nothing more than to lift you up and never let you go, learning that this kind of love is worth the fight.

shouto todoroki, who some nights, needs you to tell him that it’ll be fine, that he’s still yours. who sometimes loses his mind, wondering if he is good enough, if he’ll ever fully escape his past. who looks at you and sees his future, and for the first time, sees something so much bigger than just him. he sees happiness, marriage, maybe even being a father himself, never repeating the same mistakes. who knows he’s broken your heart, and wonders how he can still be the one you want in the end, but chooses not to question it.

shouto todoroki, who never fully stops doubting, but lets you kiss away his anxieties. who loves you like the moon loves the sun- wondering if its okay, if its meant to be- and doing it anyway. who melts like ice when he sees you smile, kissing you like afterglow shining on his skin. who is the only name on your lips, your future, your forever. who promises to give you everything he is and so much more.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

shouto todoroki, who kisses you until your out of breath. who constantly asks “do you feel good, love?” or “you like it when i touch you here?” who will take you anywhere- in bed, on the couch, on counters, in the shower, his car. who couldn’t care less if you’re on your period, or if you haven’t shaved, or if you’re worried he won’t like what he sees. he loves you, every inch of you, and does good in proving that.

shouto todoroki, who loves going down on you. who gets you so wet just from kissing you, trailing his lips down your body, his hands slowly removing your clothes. whose eyes look up at you when he’s in between your legs, thighs hooked over his shoulders, asking for permission. who loves to eat you out with your panties on, smirking against your clit when you whine for him to take them off. who swirls his tongue around you, eating like he’s starved, making you cum the moment he tugs your underwear off, eating you out with no barrier.

shouto todoroki, who puts your pleasure first, always. who’ll makes sure you cum 2-3 times before he even thinks about releasing for himself. who turns your brain to mush, a slow, deep, gentle lover who knows where to kiss and where to thrust. who’ll lean down to whisper in your ear, asking “do you like this position, baby?” or “how do you want me to take you, love?” who almost laughs to himself when he sees you unable to form coherent sentences.

shouto todoroki, who’ll start slow, teasing you with the tip of his cock until he sees you tear up. who kisses those tears away, pushing himself inside, letting you fully adjust before moving. who whispers praises in your ear, feeling you clench around him every time he says something. “so good, love, making me feel like this. ah, cumming already? so cute.”

shouto todoroki, who specifically asks you where you want to cum. he has to resist the urge right there when you cry out, telling him to do it in you. whose bi-coloured eyes fill with a hint of concern, double checking with you, but nearly unable to resist the way you take him. drags it out for as long as he can, playing with your tits, biting your skin, slamming his cock into you with reckless abandon before finally spilling his seed deep into your pussy. who stays there, wrapping your leg around his waist. “don’t waste a single drop, love.”

shouto todoroki, who stays there for a few more moments before sliding out with a kiss to your forehead. who is the best at aftercare, icing any sore spots, keeping you warm next to him. who is blissfully satisfied in the afterglow of sex, able to let his guard down, able to simply love you. <3

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Literaries references today, huh? I hope you like it.

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, Dirty talk, feet fetish

Summary: The witch makes you hers, finally.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

POETRY

The days after the camp were a mixture of tension and inevitability. You and Wanda seemed to orbit each other, like planets drawn by the gravity of something far greater than either of you was willing to admit.

In the classroom, the glances between you two grew more intense. Sometimes, you could feel her gaze fixed on you, so burning that it was impossible not to shiver. Once, while reading aloud, your voice faltered because Wanda tilted her head subtly, her green eyes evaluating every detail of you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the air was thick with something no one could explain, but which you felt deeply.

You felt her gaze land on you from time to time. It wasn’t just any look—it was something burning, filled with intensity, as if she were waiting for you to do something, anything, to draw her attention even more.

The classroom was immersed in an almost reverent silence, except for Wanda Maximoff’s soft voice as she read a passage from Crime and Punishment. She moved between the desks with a copy of the book in hand, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and illuminating her red hair like a profane halo.

“‘Man has become so accustomed to reasoning about everything and always on the basis of arguments that he has forgotten it is also possible to argue against his own arguments.’” She closed the book with a gentle motion, but the snap of the cover echoed through the room like a warning.

Her eyes rose to the students but landed on you with surgical precision. A familiar heat climbed your neck, and you looked away, pretending to jot something in your notebook.

"Y/n," she called, and your heart nearly stopped. "What’s your interpretation of this passage?"

You lifted your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of her stare. Wanda tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that only you could decipher: provocation, curiosity, and something much deeper.

"Well..." you began, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe it’s about how people can rationalize even what they know is wrong. Justifying the unjustifiable. A kind of... psychological game, maybe."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly amused. "Interesting. But do you think it’s just a game? That there are no consequences for those who play it?"

The hidden meaning behind her words hit you like a blow. Your defiant gaze met hers, and a tense silence filled the room.

"That depends," you replied, holding her gaze. "Some games are worth the risk. As long as the players are willing to go all the way."

The students exchanged confused glances, feeling the weight in the air but unable to grasp the true reason.

Yelena, sitting two seats over, raised an exaggerated eyebrow, her eyes darting between you and Wanda as if trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. She leaned toward Bucky, who was on the other side, and whispered: “What the hell is she doing?”

Bucky bit the end of his pen, clearly trying not to laugh. “No idea, but... this is weird as hell.”

"Weird?" Yelena rolled her eyes. "This is a show. Don’t you feel it? It’s like watching a Russian soap opera, but without subtitles."

Bucky gave her a light slap on the arm, stifling a laugh. “Shut up; Bishop’s taking notes. She might sell the script later.”

Kate, sitting further back, looked at them with a mock-indignant expression. “I’m here trying to understand Dostoevsky, and you two are commentating like it’s halftime at a game?”

Yelena shrugged, gesturing toward the teacher. “Sorry, but Maximoff’s looking at Y/n like she’s about to eat her. How do you expect us to focus?”

You heard the whispers and felt your face heat even more, but you didn’t dare turn to face them. Instead, you focused on Wanda, who seemed perfectly unaware of the murmurs—or, more likely, ignored them because she was too busy teasing you.

Yelena crossed her arms, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “This is gonna go south, Buck.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s already gone south. What’s left is how far.”

Wanda couldn’t deny it—you were a daring little brat. Too clever for your own good, confident in a way that made her skin prickle with irritation—and something darker, more visceral. It was like watching someone play a dangerous game without understanding the stakes. And yet, it drew her in, making her fingers itch with need.

"Interesting perspective, Y/n," Wanda said, her voice low, almost lazy, as she approached your desk. Each step seemed calculated, and the sound of her heels on the floor reverberated through the room like the tick of a countdown clock. She stopped beside you, close enough for you to feel her warmth, and tilted her head with an enigmatic smile. "But sometimes, it’s worth remembering that some players might not be as prepared as they think. Wouldn’t you agree?"

You lifted your eyes to her, meeting the gaze that seemed determined to unravel you completely. “Sometimes you just have to play to find out how far you can go,” you murmured, your voice firm, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your vulnerability.

Wanda felt a wave of desire and frustration mingle. How dare you? Here, in front of everyone, with no fear. She wanted to smile, but the control she needed to exert was like a tight chain around her will. Her instincts screamed to put you in your place, to shatter that confidence that challenged her at every turn.

She stepped back with the same calculated calm, but inside, she felt the tension pulsing through every cell. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace your jawline, to replace that defiant smile with something softer, more submissive.

The room seemed to hold its breath, every student frozen in the moment, unsure of what exactly was happening. But Wanda knew. And you knew. And, in that instant, she promised herself that the lesson she’d mentioned would be taught—intensely, memorably, and entirely on her terms.

Then, the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the room, and the students began to rise, packing their things as the buzz of conversation grew. You prepared to leave too, but before you could take more than two steps, Wanda passed by you, her intoxicating perfume filling the air.

She leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing your ear, and murmured low but firm: “My office. Now.”

The commanding tone made your legs tremble, and you barely managed to gather your notebooks, each movement hesitant and clumsy. When you arrived at her office, the atmosphere felt stiflingly charged. The door barely closed behind you before Wanda turned and crossed the space with quick steps.

Without warning, her hands grabbed your arms, pulling you close, your back colliding with the wooden desk. The sound of objects shifting on impact seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the moment.

"How dare you?" Wanda whispered, her voice low yet brimming with authority and something more—something that made every cell in your body vibrate.

Her hands were firm and possessive against your body, exploring without hesitation, marking you with her heavy touch. Her eyes glowed with a hypnotic red, and you felt as though you were being pulled into an abyss.

You should have apologized, should have yielded, but instead, your hand reached up, cupping her face as you pulled her into an urgent and dominating kiss. Your lips collided as if the world were ending, as if time was too fleeting for hesitation.

Wanda responded with a low growl, her fingers gripping your waist tightly enough to leave marks. Her taste was intoxicating—a blend of control and desire that made your head spin. You felt like you were drowning in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff, and there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to lose yourself completely in that ocean.

The room seemed to vibrate with the energy radiating from Wanda. Objects around you began to tremble, then levitate. Books, chairs, and even the desk started floating in the air, swirling in a chaotic vortex of pure power.

Wanda pushed you further against the desk as she herself seemed consumed by the intensity of her emotions. Her hand moved to encircle your neck, her fingers firm but calculated, as if she measured her strength precisely.

"You're such a naughty girl..." her voice was low, husky, almost a purr. "It drives me crazy to—"

Her sentence broke off, her breath ragged as her eyes burned a vivid red. The scarlet hue spread throughout the room, enveloping everything. You felt a wave of heat and power coursing through the space, making your skin tingle.

Her hands on your neck were firm, possessive, but far from cruel. The control Wanda maintained, even with her powers teetering on the edge of chaos, was overwhelmingly impressive. The pressure was just enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—exactly as she wanted.

"I should punish you for being so defiant," she continued, her voice dripping with desire and authority, her fingers tightening slightly as she tilted her head to watch you with hungry eyes. "You provoke me, and now... you should face the consequences, don't you think, little one?"

The chaos in the room intensified. Books flew open, pages ripping through the magical crimson wind, chairs spinning in the air, and the sound of furniture crashing against walls was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat. It was mesmerizing—the woman before you truly powerful.

And you knew you should fear her.

But you weren't afraid. The heat rising through your body was more intense than anything else, an intoxicating blend of submission and excitement. You met Wanda's eyes, making it clear you didn't want to stop.

Her smile was predatory, satisfied, as she leaned in to claim your mouth again. The kiss was overwhelming, a reflection of the storm around you, and you lost yourself in it, lost in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff.

You gasped when Wanda finally loosened her grip on your neck, but the red glow in her eyes still burned. Your mind was a mess, every part of your body pulsing in response to her touch. But you didn't want to surrender completely—not yet.

"Is that all you've got?" The words slipped out before you could think, your tone full of provocation. Your chest heaved, adrenaline mixed with desire coursing through every fiber of your being.

Her smile vanished for a moment, replaced by something far more dangerous. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled you even closer, your bodies practically pressed together. "You really want to play with fire, my little girl?"

"Maybe," you replied, feeling the heat rise to your face. "Or maybe I just think the Scarlet Witch isn't all she's cracked up to be."

Her reaction was instant. The red in the room exploded in intensity, and for a moment, it seemed like the very air vibrated. Her hands released your body, but only because she took a step back, her gaze fixed on you as if deciding what to do.

A whirlwind formed around your bodies, lifting you slightly off the ground.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," she whispered, but there was something deeper in her voice, a tone that didn’t belong solely to Wanda.

That’s when you saw it. The red in her eyes intensified, her pupils consumed by the scarlet glow. Her posture shifted, her shoulders straighter, her head tilted in a way that exuded pure power.

"Oh, you wanted to play, didn't you?" Her voice was different, deeper, laden with an energy that made your knees tremble. "Now you have my full attention."

Your breath hitched as the Scarlet Witch stepped forward, her power so palpable it weighed down the air.

She raised a hand, and you were pulled closer without her needing to touch you. Her gaze was locked onto yours, both challenging and ravenous. "Now tell me, little rebel," she teased, her smile almost cruel. "Is this what you wanted? The real me?"

You swallowed hard but still found the strength to respond. "Maybe I just wanted to see how far you'd go."

Her laugh echoed through the room, low and dangerous, as the chaos around you intensified. "You have no idea, my dear. But I'll show you. Slowly. Until you can't take it anymore."

She extended a hand, the crimson glow dancing at her fingertips as the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only you and her in the eye of a scarlet storm.

"I bet you were crazy for this too," Wanda murmured against your neck as she marked it with her teeth. "God— I can smell you from here."

Wanda's kiss was devastating, a collision of desire and possessiveness that left you utterly breathless. Your lips moved against hers with overwhelming intensity, as if the entire world had vanished, leaving only her. When you finally pulled apart, a thread of saliva, glistening and tinged crimson, connected you—a vivid reminder of the fervor you had shared.

You felt like you were in heaven, in a place no one had ever taken you before. Your heart pounded in your chest, your entire body trembling from a mix of excitement and shock. Wanda's hands roamed boldly over your body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

But then reality hit you like a cold wave. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right with Vision, with her children, and not even with yourself.

“Wanda, wait," you murmured, your voice trembling as you grasped her wrist, halting her touch that was making your head spin.

It took her a moment to process your words, her red eyes still blazing with raw energy. Her primal instincts were on full display, and for a moment, it seemed as though she couldn’t hear anything beyond the call of her own hunger.

"What now?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, still dripping with desire.

"This... isn’t right," you stammered, your eyes filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. "Vision, the boys... you..."

Wanda blinked, as if your words had finally pierced through her haze. The red glow in her eyes gradually dimmed, the intensity giving way to something more human—something more painful.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, pulling away from you, her hands still trembling. She ran a hand through her hair, messing it up as she tried to compose herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

The frustration in her voice was palpable, but there was also something else—a guilt buried deep, like a twisted knife in her chest.

"You promised you’d sort things out soon!" you burst out, your voice louder than you intended, but the frustration that had been building for days needed release. "I’m here, Wanda. I’m waiting for you. And in the meantime, I’m stuck in this limbo, not knowing what’s real or what you want from me!"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the silence between you was heavy as lead. Then Wanda took a step back, her fists clenched, but her gaze still fixed on you.

"You think this is easy for me?" Her voice was low, almost a growl. "You think I don’t think about this every second? That I don’t want to throw everything away and just... take you away? Make you mine?"

You swallowed hard but didn’t back down. "Then why don’t you? Why keep playing with me like I’m just... another piece on your chessboard?"

Wanda laughed, but it was hollow, devoid of humor. "Because it’s not just about you and me, Y/n! Do you understand what’s at stake here? My life. My children. My reputation. Everything I’ve built could fall apart because of this."

"And what about me?!" you shot back, tears stinging your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. "Am I the only one who has to carry this alone? To deal with the guilt, the doubt, the desire? Because it feels like while you can have me and still keep everything intact, I only have you."

Wanda hesitated, and for the first time, you saw something like vulnerability in her eyes. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the fire you knew so well.

"You think I don’t feel the same?" she asked, stepping closer to you again, her voice softer but loaded with emotion. "You think I’m not drowning in this as much as you are?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m the only one losing control?" you murmured, your voice now shaky.

Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as though trying to pull herself together but failing miserably. "Because I’m good at hiding it, Y/n. I had to learn. But you..." She stopped, her eyes scanning your face, your body. "You’re so young. So raw. Perfect to mold—" Her hands trembled with a deep excitement. "And that’s what destroys me. Because when I’m with you, I forget everything that’s supposed to matter. Everything that’s supposed to hold me back."

Her words tightened a knot in your chest, because they echoed a truth you couldn’t admit to yourself. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stepped even closer, her hands cupping your face with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the intensity you’d just shared. "Now, we drown together," she said, her eyes blazing again, but this time with something deeper, more sincere. "Because I’m not letting you go. And I know you won’t either."

You both remained silent for a long moment after your intense exchange of words. The weight of tension still hung heavily in the air, but now there was something different—an undeniable determination in her green eyes. She began pacing the room, clearly trying to organize her thoughts.

"I can’t keep doing this," she finally said, abruptly stopping and turning to face you.

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you close but having to hold back. Trying to keep up appearances while feeling like I’m going to explode every time I see you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you kept your tone cautious. "So, what are you thinking?"

A small smile curled her lips—not the warm smile you sometimes saw, but something more calculated, almost predatory. "I’ve had an idea, my sweet. And maybe it’ll be enough until I can sort things out."

Wanda stepped closer, leaning in as if to share a forbidden secret. "The boys need a private tutor. Someone to help them with the subjects they’re struggling with."

You blink, processing her words. "And you want me to... be that person?"

Her smile widened, as though she was pleased with how quickly you’d caught on. "Of course. This way, I can keep an eye on you without having to come up with excuses. Without needing to hide how much I want to be near you."

The idea made your head spin. "Wanda, that’s... complicated. Wouldn’t it seem strange? What about Vision?"

The smile faded for a moment, and her eyes glinted with something darker. "Vision is gone most of the time, busy with work. And as for complicated..." She moved even closer, her breath warm against your skin. "We’re already complicated, Y/n. This just makes things easier."

You felt your resistance melt under her intense gaze. "And the boys?"

"They’ll love you," she said, as though there was no doubt about it. "Besides, you’re smart, patient, and..." Her fingers slid down your arm, her eyes glowing with a mix of desire and adoration. "I trust no one else near them. Or near me."

It was a dangerous proposition—an invitation to dive even deeper into something that already felt impossible to escape. But the way she looked at you, as if the entire universe revolved around you, made it impossible to say no.

"Alright," you finally murmured, feeling as though you were crossing an invisible but definitive line. "I’ll do it."

The smile Wanda gave you was both triumphant and filled with something you couldn’t entirely identify. She reached up to caress your face, her fingers warm against your skin. "You made the right choice, darling. Trust me. I’ll take care of everything for us."

[...]

The Saturday morning dawned sunny, but inside Wanda's house, the atmosphere was a meticulously orchestrated chaos.

"Billy, Tommy, have you cleaned your rooms? I don't want anything out of place!" Wanda called from the kitchen while arranging a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table.

Billy sighed loudly from upstairs. "I already did, Mom! Why does she even need to see my room, anyway?"

Tommy appeared in the living room with a bored expression. "It's just a tutor, Mom. Chill."

Wanda stopped, looking at him with an intensity that made him take a step back. "She's more than that. I want you to make a good impression—no, a great one. Understood?"

The boys exchanged knowing glances but said nothing more. They knew arguing with their mother in this state was pointless.

But if she wasn’t just a tutor, then what was she?

Wanda adjusted the couch pillows for the tenth time and looked around. The house was spotless, the aroma of cookies filling the air. She took a deep breath, feeling the growing excitement in her chest. "Everything needs to be perfect," she murmured to herself.

And then, the doorbell rang.

When you stepped in, Wanda was at the door with a smile that seemed a little wider than usual, the gleam in her eyes betraying her excitement. Seeing you in her home, with her kids—your kids—made everything feel so right.

"Welcome, Y/n. It’s so good to see you."

You smiled shyly, holding a small backpack. "Thank you, professor. It’s a pleasure to be here."

Wanda gestured for you to come in. "Please, just Wanda here. Come, I want to introduce you to the boys."

Billy and Tommy were in the living room, sitting on the couch, clearly curious but trying to play it cool.

"Boys, this is Y/n, your new tutor. Y/n, these are my sons, Billy and Tommy."

You waved a little nervously. "Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can have fun while learning."

Billy smiled shyly. "Hi."

Tommy was more straightforward. "My mom says you’re funny. Is that true?"

You chuckled softly, relaxing a bit. "Well, that depends on you. But I can try."

Tommy tilted his head, a glint of challenge already in his eyes. "Then show me what you’ve got."

You tilted your head, thinking for a moment before saying:

"Alright, here goes: Why did the book go to the hospital?"

Tommy frowned, confused. "Why?"

Billy, now curious, asked, "What happened to it?"

You gave a playful smile. "Because it broke its spine!"

Billy burst out laughing while Tommy tried to hold back but ended up laughing too, shaking his head.

"That was terrible!" Tommy said, but the grin on his face gave away that he enjoyed it.

"Terrible? I’d call it genius," you replied, crossing your arms with an air of mock superiority.

"Yeah. She’s kinda cool," Tommy muttered to Billy, who nodded in agreement.

You asked them to sit down and share which subjects they found most challenging. Billy and Tommy glanced at each other, as if sharing a secret no one else could understand. The silent connection between them was so palpable that you felt a pang of affection.

"History," they replied in unison, making you chuckle softly, fascinated by how synchronized they were, even in the smallest details.

The twins were captivating. Their eyes sparkled with intelligence and a lively energy that felt familiar, as if a piece of Wanda was in each of them, yet they were uniquely themselves. You couldn’t help but be charmed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

"History…" You held the word in the air for a moment, as if it had weight. "Can you be more specific? Art history? Greek history? Norse history? American history?" You offered the options playfully, but they didn’t seem very impressed.

"All of them," they replied without hesitation, their casual tone making you raise your eyebrows.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning slightly forward as if engaging in a silent duel. "Alright, gentlemen… Listen closely," you began, your voice taking on a solemn yet warm tone. "I’m going to make you love history. Or my name isn’t Y/n."

The defiant tone awakened something in the boys. Tommy crossed his arms with a mischievous grin, while Billy tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, Miss,” Tommy replied, his tone brimming with competitive enthusiasm. “We accept your challenge.”

Billy nodded, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Let’s see if you can do it.”

As you observed them, you realized that in just a few minutes, they had already tugged at your heartstrings. They weren’t just adorable; they were spirited, curious, and full of life. You smiled at them, feeling a connection growing—a quiet and unexpected bond, like their presence filled a space you hadn’t known was empty.

You picked up a book on Greek mythology and stood in front of the boys, holding it as if it were a secret treasure. “Ready to dive into tales of gods, monsters, and heroes?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Billy and Tommy nodded eagerly, their gazes fixed on you.

“It all begins at the dawn of time, when there was nothing but chaos,” you said, spreading your arms dramatically, as if summoning the void. “Then, suddenly, Gaia, the Earth, and Uranus, the Sky, were born. They had children... lots of children. But do you know what Uranus did?”

The boys shook their heads, curiosity piqued.

“He got scared of them! So, he locked them in Tartarus, the deepest, darkest place in the world.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice to build suspense. “But one of them, Cronus, wasn’t having it. He rebelled and became the king of the gods.”

“That’s so cool,” Tommy murmured, his eyes wide.

“Oh, but wait,” you said, raising a finger. “Cronus had a problem. A prophecy said one of his children would overthrow him. So, do you know what he did?”

“What?” Billy asked, completely engrossed.

“He… ate his own children!” you exclaimed, mimicking the gesture with your hands as if devouring something.

“Ew, gross!” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose but laughing at the same time.

“But,” you continued, lifting a finger theatrically, “their mother, Rhea, wasn’t about to let that happen. She hid the youngest, Zeus, and gave Cronus a rock wrapped in cloth instead. Cronus didn’t even notice!”

Billy burst out laughing. “What an idiot!”

“And then Zeus grew up, defeated Cronus, saved his siblings, and became the king of the gods. Which leads to a ton of other crazy stories... but this is just the beginning.”

At that moment, you noticed Wanda standing in the doorway, watching the scene with a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

“You’re impressing the boys,” she commented, her voice soft but full of something that made your heart skip a beat.

You shrugged, trying to hide your blush. “Well, with a story like that, it’s hard not to keep their attention, right?”

“It’s more than that,” Wanda replied, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “You have a special way with them. And with stories.”

“I like kids. And stories,” you whispered, just for her.

You turned back to the boys, smiling. “Alright, next question: Who thinks they’d have the guts to face a titan like Cronus?”

“Me!” Tommy immediately raised his hand.

“And me!” Billy chimed in excitedly.

You laughed, charmed by their energy. “Well, let’s see how you do in the next challenges!”

As you continued the story, you felt Wanda’s gaze still on you. It wasn’t just pride for the boys or appreciation for your teaching methods. It was something deeper, more complex—something as ancient and powerful as the myths you were recounting.

Wanda stood by the garden door, arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. From a shaded spot near the garden, she observed the boys laughing and running around you, completely immersed in the recreation of the mythological battle. Their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep within her chest.

Her eyes drifted back to you. It wasn’t just the way the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her, but also the energy you exuded. There was a passion in your movements, a genuine joy that seemed to radiate and infect everything around you.

But at the same time, there was something more. The sparkle in your eyes when you spoke to the twins, the way you seemed so at ease, even in a new environment… It all made Wanda feel unsettled, as if she were witnessing something that belonged to her being contested.

Out in the garden, you set up an improvised scene. The hose and sprinkler were strategically positioned, ready to represent the turbulent sea that separated the gods from the Norse giants. In one hand, you held a bucket with diluted red paint—your version of mythological blood.

"Alright, warriors!" you said, placing your hands on your hips and addressing Billy and Tommy as if you were about to lead an army. "Today, we're going to reenact one of the greatest battles in Norse mythology: the fight between Thor and Jörmungandr, the World Serpent!"

Tommy blinked, intrigued. "Who’s Jörmun…gandr?" He struggled with the name, making you smile at his cuteness.

"It’s a giant serpent so big it wraps around the world and bites its own tail," you explained, moving your hands in a large circle. "And guess who fights it in the final battle?"

"Thor!" Billy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Exactly!" you replied, pointing at him as if he’d just earned points. "And today, one of you will be Thor, and the other will be Jörmungandr!"

The two exchanged glances, already excited.

"I’m Thor!" Tommy shouted, lifting a garden spade like a hammer.

"Then I’m the serpent!" Billy declared, grabbing a hose and swinging it as if it were the tail of a giant reptile.

You began narrating, swirling the red paint as if creating a storm in the bucket. "The sea is raging! The sky fills with thunder as Thor approaches the monster!" You turned on the sprinkler, and the spray of water began soaking everyone, simulating the turbulent sea.

"I attack first!" Billy yelled, spraying water from the hose at Tommy.

"Thor doesn’t back down from danger!" you narrated as Tommy charged forward with his spade. "He raises his hammer and—"

"I hit the serpent’s head!" Tommy shouted, lightly striking the ground near Billy with his spade.

"But Jörmungandr doesn’t surrender easily!" you cried, pouring a bit of red paint on the ground around them to simulate spilled blood. "The serpent coils around the hero, trying to crush him!"

Billy began spinning around Tommy, holding the hose as if it were the serpent’s body.

Wanda appeared at the garden door, crossing her arms and observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and incredulity. She remained in the shade of a tree near the garden, where the boys laughed and ran around you, completely immersed in the mythological battle reenactment. The sound of their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep in her chest. She rarely saw them so happy, so at ease with anyone other than herself.

Her gaze shifted to you. It wasn’t just how the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her but the energy you radiated. There was passion in your gestures, a genuine joy that seemed to infect everything around you.

And then, she noticed.

The sprinkler’s water had soaked your clothes. Your white blouse clung to your skin, outlining the curves of your breasts. Your hardened nipples were visible through the thin fabric. A drop of water slid from your chin to your neck, tracing a slow path that disappeared beneath the wet cloth. Your hair, plastered to your face and shoulders, dripped and gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Wanda swallowed hard, trying to look away. But it was impossible. Something about the scene left her… unsettled. It wasn’t just the sight of your body; it was the way you laughed so freely, as if nothing else existed but that moment.

Wanda wanted... She wanted...

“Are you okay, Mom?” Billy asked, running over to her, still holding the hose.

Wanda quickly composed herself, putting on a smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just enjoying the show.”

He grinned and ran back to the “battlefield,” where you were now pretending to be a Norse dragon attacking Thor.

Wanda sighed, crossing her arms. She needed to remember she was in control. But in that moment, watching you and the boys, she wasn’t so sure that was still true.

“You’re all soaked,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s half the fun!” you replied, laughing as more water sprayed around. “Besides, we’re recreating history. Isn’t it amazing?”

“If this is history, I want to learn more!” Billy shouted, laughing as he tried to escape Tommy.

“Thor wins the battle,” you announced dramatically, pointing at Tommy. “But the serpent’s venom is powerful. He takes one last step and… collapses!”

Tommy pretended to faint on the ground, laughing the entire time.

Wanda shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “I never thought teaching mythology could be so... wet.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “That’s how you learn, Wanda—with fun and, apparently, a little chaos.”

“Just don’t forget, chaos is my specialty,” she replied, her smile turning a little more mischievous.

And for a moment, you felt like you were part of that small, unlikely family.

[...]

When you entered the house, the energy felt different. The boys' laughter still echoed in your ears, but something in the air had shifted. Wanda stood near the door, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. She leaned slightly, her posture elegant, her gaze locked on you as if studying your every move.

“Boys,” she said firmly, “bath time.”

They groaned for a moment but quickly ran upstairs. Wanda remained there, watching them go before turning her attention back to you.

“You’re soaked. Do you want to change?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with something you couldn’t quite identify.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart race. “Yes, please.”

She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The bathroom is in my room. There’s a clean shirt in the drawer if you want to use it.”

A sudden nervousness swept over you. This wasn’t what you expected. Her bathroom? It made everything feel… personal. A palpable tension settled between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rising to your face. You turned and began walking toward her bedroom, your heart pounding faster with each step.

Once inside the bathroom, you shut the door with a deep sigh. The sound of the shower water starting seemed amplified, as if every drop marked the rhythm of your nerves. Slowly, you undressed, the tension in your body increasing as you imagined Wanda outside, still watching you somehow.

The warm water couldn’t entirely wash away the unease gripping you. As you lathered up, your thoughts wandered to the possibilities. You knew Wanda was intense, but that simple gesture—offering her bathroom, her shirt—felt loaded with a significance you weren’t prepared to handle.

You hurried through your shower, trying to shake off the insecurities and focus on the moment. But when you stepped out, you felt even more anxious than before. Her shirt was far too big, the soft fabric clinging to your body in an uncomfortably intimate way. Every small movement, every breath seemed amplified in the quiet room.

You were alone, yet you didn’t feel truly alone. The sensation of being watched, even without Wanda there, lingered. Her aura seemed imprinted on the space, almost suffocating.

As you looked around the room, you noticed her meticulously made bed, the pristine white sheets that looked expensive. Your heart tightened at the thought that it wasn’t you sleeping beside her every night. On the right side of the bed—Wanda’s side, you assumed—there was a book on the nightstand. Curious, you picked it up. But the sound of the door opening startled you, and the book slipped from your hands.

“What did I say about snooping?” The redhead entered the room, crossing her arms beneath her chest, making them seem slightly fuller. There was a mix of irritation and amusement in her gaze.

You glanced at the book’s cover one last time before handing it to Wanda. “Jane Austen is a great writer. I like historical romance too.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, taking the book from her hands with an expression that suggested she was evaluating her intentions. “‘I have many flaws, but not in understanding, I hope. As for my temper, I can’t guarantee it’s very good. I believe it’s a little too harsh for the world’s conveniences. I can’t forget the madness and vices of others as quickly as I should. Nor the offenses they make against me. My feelings don’t flare up with the slightest effort or attempt. My temperament could be called resentful. Once the good opinion I have of a person is lost, it’s lost forever.’”

You were impressed as she recited Darcy effortlessly. It was so quirky! She must have read it countless times.

A delighted smile formed on her lips. “‘This is truly a flaw,’” you began theatrically. “‘Relentless resentment is a trait that marks a character. You’ve chosen your flaw well. In fact, I can’t laugh at it. There’s no need to be afraid of me.’”

“‘I believe that in every temperament, there’s a tendency toward a particular form of evil, a natural vice that even the best education can’t extinguish.’” Wanda pressed her lips together, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. She suddenly laughed at your expression, which had become grumpy.

"And your flaw is a tendency to threaten to shoot red power balls at everyone, I imagine," you shot back, just as if you were talking about real life.

"Ah, and yours is irritating everyone with that sharp tongue of yours. I believe that applies perfectly here, by the end of the conversation."

You clicked your tongue before moving closer to her. "No... Darcy was a bit detestable at first. You're more like Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew." Your tone was mocking, but your voice had grown lower, almost intimate.

It’s funny how natural it is that your flirtations and jabs turned into shared literary tastes. Classics are always welcome at the worst of times, and just by Wanda’s deadly gaze, she certainly knows who Katherine is.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a blade. "And I suppose you’re the stubborn beast of Petruchio, aren't you?"

You laughed, closing the distance between you. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating. "I don't usually cast myself as the male part of any story, but since you made the comparison... Katherine ends up tamed and married to Petruchio." Your insinuation made Wanda lick her lips, a visible attempt to contain her growing irritation.

"Are you implying you can tame me? As if I were some wild creature?" Wanda stepped forward, and you realized you were about to cross an important line.

You studied her face, every detail—the furrow between her brows, her clenched jaw. She was beautiful, furious, and captivating. Your heart raced, and the desire to kiss her became almost unbearable.

"Not a wild creature, but you can certainly be tamed." Your tone was full of provocation, but the intensity in your eyes betrayed something else.

The pressure in the room intensified, and Wanda’s control shattered. Her powers began to manifest; a faint red glow appeared in her eyes, and objects around you started to levitate slowly. The air grew heavier, charged with tension and raw magic.

"I’d kill you right now if I could," Wanda growled, her voice low and threatening, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper—a conflict between anger and desire.

The fuse. The pulse between your legs was about to drive you crazy. You smiled, a wicked grin full of desire.

"Well, lucky for you, you can't." With a swift movement, you pulled her neck, thrusting your tongue into her mouth. Wanda moaned against your lips, a sound that reverberated through you like an electric shock.

At first, she resisted. Her lips were tense, her body rigid. But then, control shattered completely. Wanda surrendered to the kiss with an almost desperate ferocity, her hands grabbing your hair, pulling you closer.

Objects around you continued to float, creating a chaotic spectacle in the room. But neither of you seemed to care. All that existed was the heat, the touch, the taste of each other.

She pulled you by the hair, seeing her from above—so powerful, it couldn’t be more exciting.

"You’re so unbearable..." She murmured, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

"Oh, come on! You don’t know the reputation you have at the university?" You shot back, giving her a provocative smile. Wanda's eyes shone wild, and she yanked your hair again, pulling your neck along.

"Say it." She demanded, biting the curve of your ear.

"They say you like this." Your voice came out broken by the small bites Wanda was placing on your neck.

"Like what, dekta?" Her veiny hands caressed your body with lust, and it made your head spin.

"You—"

She interrupted you with a hard bite to your shoulder—it was clear she was taking out her anger on you.

"That I like little girls with a clever mouth? Who like to challenge me so I can break every last bit of their confidence?" The woman bit your breast, still covered by fabric. "Oh, darling. They couldn’t be more right."

And then, there, under Wanda’s command — you understood.

She did it all the time. She diminished you, devalued you on purpose. It didn’t matter how flawless your work was; Wanda always found a way to belittle it, to clip your wings before you could fly. Every sharp remark, every gaze that seemed to pierce through your soul, was carefully calculated to chip away at your confidence. She humiliated you, intimidated you…

And in some twisted way, it aroused you more than you cared to admit.

Never before had you been the object of such specific, visceral attention. It was wrong — you knew that. But the intensity in her gaze, the way she deliberately kept you under her control, stirred something deep within you.

It was a power game — cruel, immoral — yet irresistibly magnetic. And you couldn’t look away.

Wanda tugged harder on your hair, forcing your legs to give out from the pain. "Shh... Don’t fight, darling," she whispered against your lips. "Kneel. Know your place."

Your knees hit the floor, and all you could see was the victorious smile on her face.

"Right beneath me," she murmured. "With those doe-like, pleading eyes." She exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.

She stepped back, leaving you staring at the floor alone. The only sound was the soft tapping of her footsteps on the wooden floor and the lingering warmth of her power that filled the room.

When you lifted your head, determined to face her, the sight before you was nothing short of glorious — Wanda seated in a green armchair by the window overlooking the neighborhood. She looked majestic, glowing with a scarlet aura, making it impossible not to submit.

This wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff. This was The Scarlet Witch.

Your mouth went dry. Even without experience, you knew what you wanted — what you needed. But Wanda seemed to know more than you did, because her smug smile only made your core pulse with need. The rhythm of her crossed legs swaying ever so slightly seemed to call to you.

“Crawl.”

The witch’s harsh command struck you, and adrenaline surged through your veins, making you tremble. “Crawl to me, pet, and I’ll spare you.”

A witch like Wanda possessed countless abilities, infinite powers. Yet, as she watched you crawl toward her, Wanda understood the true meaning of power.

It was a feeling that transcended magic, surpassing the control she wielded over the world around her. It was deeper, more primal. The witch within her wanted to claim everything — her space, her pain, her vengeance. But most of all, she wanted to claim you.

When you stopped at her feet, Wanda tilted her head as if examining an unfinished masterpiece. Her hand slid to your face, her touch gentler than she had intended. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, trembling slightly when they reached your chin.

Her voice was low but commanding. There was no room for doubt. It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. Her eyes glowed intensely, the energy around her flickering like a halo of power.

She uncrossed her legs with an almost feline grace, letting her bare foot rest on the floor as she leaned back comfortably in the green chair. Every movement she made was imbued with natural sensuality, as if she was born to be worshipped.

“Let’s see if your instincts are as sharp as your tongue,” she teased, a slight smirk on her lips, fully aware you were ensnared in her spell.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Wanda seemed untouchable — like a goddess carved in marble. Strong, imposing, unreachable — and yet, all you wanted was to kneel before her.

Shame and desire blended together. You were desperate to please her, to be worthy of being at her feet.

“I’m waiting,” Wanda arched a brow, her tone impatient. “Or are you all talk? Prove you can do more than provoke.”

Your breath grew heavier as your knees touched the floor once more. Her words echoed like a commandment. Prove yourself. Show her you understand. That she is everything.

Your eyes locked on the delicate curve of her ankle, the bones shifting subtly beneath her pale skin. Her foot was perfect, every detail made to be adored.

Your mouth went dry, but the primal desire rising within you overwhelmed everything else.

Slowly, you tilted your head, never breaking eye contact with Wanda. The world seemed to stop. Nothing else mattered except this moment, the connection between the two of you.

“Good girl,” Wanda’s voice came as a rare praise, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t know if she was using magic or if it was simply the power she had over you, but you felt as though you were under a spell. Every movement you made was guided by an ancient instinct — a desire to worship, to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against the top of her foot, and Wanda let out a satisfied sigh. The tension in the air shifted, replaced by something more intimate. More profound.

“Keep going.”

You obeyed without hesitation, tracing kisses along the arch of her foot. Your trembling fingers barely dared to touch her. Wanda was more than human. She was pure power, and you felt every particle of it.

Wanda’s eyes closed for a brief moment, her lips parting in a silent sigh. When she looked back at you, there was something softer in her gaze. Admiration? Satisfaction? Perhaps even… affection.

“See how easy that is?” Her voice remained firm, but there was a tenderness hidden within her words. “My little pet knows exactly where she belongs, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Say it.”

Your voice trembled, but it carried truth. “At your feet.”

Wanda’s smile widened, not with arrogance, but with contentment.

“Good girl.”

Then she leaned down just enough to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, drawing a moan of satisfaction from both of you.

“Mommy should give you your reward now, shouldn’t she?”

Then there was that damned M word that made your belly contract. You squirmed at how hard it was for you to hold back, so you sought some relief in the friction of your own thighs.

Wanda opened herself to you like a flower, and at that moment you discovered that the older woman was not wearing panties, making her bittersweet scent rise to you, making your salivate.

“Do you want it, pet?” She asked, lifting her hips a little so you could see better and you felt like you might faint.

“Please, please…” You found yourself in an endless loop of begging, which made Wanda smile as she panted in lust.

“Such a good girl… She learned so quickly to beg for mommy’s pussy.” She stroked your chin, so gently that you rubbed against her hand like a cat seeking affection from its owner.

“Come, pet. Take it all.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Giving a big lick with the base of your tongue just to taste it, you hear her take a deep breath, relaxing into the upholstery. Her scent suffocating you and making your eyes roll back.

Letting out a ragged sigh as her warm, soft tongue licked your most intimate juncture, flooding Wanda's senses with intense pleasure. Wanda grips your hair between her fingers, forcing you to look at her.

"Eyes on me, baby girl."

She grinds her hips up involuntarily, seeking more of that skillful, soapy attention. You continue with small kitten licks, leaving Wanda a little trembling with anticipation on top of you. When you move your tongue in large, lazy circles, Wanda moans—encouraging you to push your mouth even further against her pussy.

"Ugh, yes… just like that…"

For Wanda, this was just the beginning. The sordid things she would do to you… Your stupid, naughty little girl mind could not even imagine. The excitement isn't just in the act. In fact, it never was. Everything she imagined since she laid eyes on you. Everything. It was already underway.

Your little face between her legs only proves it.

“Fuck, you're good… so good for your mommy.”

Wanda's moans leave you senseless, her praises blur your mind and you feel like you need a lot more of this. Your mouth moves away from the woman's clit to leave small wet kisses on her thigh.

The witch's eyes glow red with a fierce and predatory glow, the hunger burning stronger than ever.

“Don't tease me, stupid little slut…” Wanda says through gritted teeth, making you moan at the insult. “Get back to work and show me what a talented little pussy-sucker you can be…”

A feral growl rumbles in your chest, her teasing… leaving you with a wild desire to be good for her, to please her more than anything.

“Now, suck my clit like the eager little slut I know you are…”

You can only obey the witch’s request. Pushing your mouth even further against her pussy, it’s when you scrape your teeth against the woman’s clit that you hear her howl—pain and pleasure. A raw, guttural scream leaves Wanda’s throat as you tease her sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure and force.

“Uuuunghhhh, God…!” She grinds her hips against your insistent mouth, seeking more of the sharp, exquisite sensation.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, fuck! I’m going to kill you!” Her fingers fist in your hair, tugging mercilessly as she rides your tongue with wild abandon.

The scarlet red all over the room, the incandescent, magical glow boiling on your skin. “You’re going to make me cum, naughty girl, just like that… Mommy’s little young slut is going to make her cum… Right there, yes!” The witch’s back arches off the chair, her entire being centered on the intense, violent pleasure radiating from her core.

You feel everything around you literally spin. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you see the bed floating across the room, hitting the ceiling—it’s mind-boggling.

“OH FUCK, OH FUCK, FUCK, DO IT, PET!”

The words dissolve into raw, wild sounds as her climax overtakes her, waves of ecstasy crashing over her in a relentless torrent.

You feel the older woman’s legs tremble above you. Your ego soaring, you don’t even notice the woman’s still red eyes above you. As your orgasm subsides, Wanda notices your awestruck gaze, still transfixed by the spectral, crimson display of the displaced objects.

“Yeah, kind of like that…” She smiles teasingly, watching your lips wet with her pleasure.

Wanda pulls you by the back of your neck, clashing your lips in a fight that she would clearly win.

"Mommy isn't done with you yet, honey…" she murmurs like a solemn promise.

"Mommy…" You say softly, still mesmerized by her and still kneeling.

Something about how you say it makes Wanda savor the word. "Say it again." She commands, looking into your eyes.

"Mommy." You repeat, now more confident.

The older woman hums in approval and gets up from the chair, her legs still a little shaky from the recent orgasm.

She throws you on top of her king-size bed and walks over to you with superhuman eyes.

"Mommy is dying to take what is rightfully hers."

She climbs on top of you, taking off the blouse that covers you and making obscene movements on top of your jeans.

"Nobody touched here, did they, honey? You didn't let anyone touch that tight pussy, did you?"

You gasped and denied it vehemently. The words coming out of the woman's mouth were making you dumb.

"No… I'm a virgin."

You say and feel the woman's wicked smile on the curve of your neck.

"Of course you are. You're made for me… such a good girl waiting for me."

The woman's lips traveled the length of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Wanda's hands trembled with restraint as she stared at your soft skin, the delicate folds and tempting curves yet to be savored. With a deft movement, she undoes your shorts, dragging the jeans down your thighs while her gaze remains fixed on the flesh that awaits her.

"Mommy will use all your holes until you become a perfect, dumb whore for her," she said with her nails digging into your waist, leaving half-moon marks. "You're perfect…" in her eyes there was adoration for you and nothing else.

The words left Wanda’s mouth in a reverent whisper, almost as if they were a secret reserved only for you. Her eyes glowed, but not with the power you knew so well—not with that menacing red glow. No. Now, they were a deep, warm sea, filled with adoration.

The way she looked at you, even with you beneath her, made your heart race and your skin tingle. There was nothing but devotion in her gaze, as if you were the most precious thing she had ever touched.

Her fingers, strong and steady, slid over your body with care and possession, as if she were committing every curve of yours to memory. You let out a needy moan, unable to contain the wave of desire her words stirred within you. There was something intoxicating about being so vulnerable, so surrendered, and yet somehow feeling in control.

“Look at me,” Wanda murmured, her voice low but full of command. Your eyes didn’t waver for a second. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet hers. And there it was—the intensity was almost overwhelming, a kind of fervor that made her legs tremble. There was something so raw about that moment, as if she were seeing into the most hidden parts of his soul and yet choosing to love each and every one of them.

“You have no idea…” Wanda continued, her lips brushing his skin, her breath hot against his neck. “How you make me feel. Powerful. Invincible.”

Even in her submissive position, something in you blossomed under that gaze. Her power felt like an embrace, firm and unshakable, but never cruel. You were exposed, defenseless, but you had never felt so protected.

“You will learn to crave my touch, my presence, as deeply as I crave you. Your perfect, submissive little body belongs to me now. I will mold you, transform you into the most obedient, desperate slut imaginable… and you will beg for the chance to serve me.”

Wanda’s lips brushed the shell of your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Each whispered word carried a weight that made your body tremble, not from fear, but from pure anticipation.

“You will be the best toy a witch like me has ever had…” Her voice was a mix of desire and threat, like poisoned honey that you couldn’t resist. “And I will never let you go.”

Her tone was possessive, each syllable carefully loaded with intent. Wanda’s hands slid down your ribs, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin as if she were marking her territory.

“I’m going to tease you until you beg for release,” she continued, her tongue lightly brushing your earlobe, making an involuntary moan escape your lips. “And even then… maybe I won’t give you what you want. Maybe I’ll just stay here…” She slid her lips to your neck, where she placed a hot, slow kiss. “Watching you writhe, completely at my mercy.”

Your breathing quickened, and you felt the muscles in your body tighten. Her heat was almost overwhelming, and the way she spoke—so confident, so in control—made your mind spin with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“Then I’m going to tie you up, blindfold you,” she murmured, her teeth scraping lightly against your skin. “And leave you waiting. With no idea what I’m going to do next. Every second a delicious torture… until you learn there’s no escape.” That you are mine, completely.”

Your heart was pounding, your head spinning with the intensity of her words. Her hands slowly moved up his back, firm and possessive, as she planted another kiss on your shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” Wanda asked, her voice a dark melody. “You like knowing that even when I’m cruel, it’s still for you. That everything I do is so you’ll never forget… who you belong to.”

You bit your lip, instinctively moistening it. Your head fell back slightly, your eyes half-closed as you tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

“Answer me, dekta,” Wanda ordered softly, her hand now cupping your chin so you looked her straight in the eye. “Or I might have to teach you what happens when little girls disobey their mommies.”

Wanda’s tone was seductive and cruel, the veiled threat in her voice as intoxicating as the firmness with which she held your face. You felt a deep shiver run down your spine, each word like an electric current that lit up every nerve in your body.

Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an anticipation so overwhelming that you could barely breathe. Your heart pounded, your mind flooded with a mixture of shame and desire. Her power over you was absolute, and in that moment, everything in you screamed for submission.

“Mommy…” you murmured, the word slipping out almost without thinking, your voice shaky and choked by the tension Wanda was creating around you.

Your eyes were glazed over, as if you were in a trance, completely at the mercy of that overwhelming presence.

Wanda smiled, an arrogant, cruel smile, but undeniably beautiful. She tilted her head, her eyes shining with something that seemed like pure satisfaction.

“Look at you,” she said softly, but the firmness in her voice made every muscle in your body tense in response. “You can’t even think, can you, my little whore?”

Your body trembled in anticipation, her every word like an invisible rope tightening around you. You knew Wanda was dangerous, but at that moment, the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted to find out how far she was willing to go.

The throbbing between your legs was mind-blowing, you needed to relieve yourself urgently. But before you could rub yourself against your own thighs, Wanda stopped you.

“You’re already so wet, you filthy girl. Can’t resist the thrill of pleasing Mommy, can you?” she purrs, her free hand sliding down to cup the juncture between your thighs, rubbing in firm, possessive circles. She places her knee against your pussy, causing a delicious, excruciating pressure. “I bet you can come like this. Rubbing yourself against my knee like a bitch in heat, can’t you?”

You respond with a long moan, your tongue lolling out, the intense pressure and tantalizing sensation of her knee against your hypersensitive folds making you whimper and buck in helpless need, your own hips instinctively moving to grind against the unyielding obstruction.

“That’s it, dirty slut… Let Mommy see how much you want to come. Rub yourself against my leg like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Want to come like this?” She asks, making you whimper. Thinking about anything was too difficult. Maybe you should let her take control of everything. "I asked you a question!"

You gasp when you feel the woman slap your left cheek. "Wanda, I want… more!" You manage to finish with difficulty.

"Who?" She asks, forcing her knee deeper into your entrance, making you cry out.

"Mommy!" You correct yourself, humming in approval.

"There's my good girl." She praises you, "What do you want, darling?" Wanda makes circular movements with her tongue on your nipples, hard as rocks. "My mouth. My fingers. My cock." Hearing her, you whimper.

"Oh. Fuck…" You gasp loudly.

"Greedy little girl… You want all of these, don't you?"

As if summoned by Wanda's wicked touch and piercing gaze, your fantasies take on a life of their own, your mind feverish with desire. You need it all—every hungry bite, every deep, devastating thrust, every stroke of a masterful hand across your skin.

The sheer intensity of your need consumes you, leaving nothing but desperation, longing, pleading in its wake. “Yes, Mommy,” you finally confess in a breathless whisper, “I need it all. I need you in every way imaginable.” With a low, triumphant growl, Wanda surges forward, her skilled fingers delving between those slick, panting thighs once more.

She teases and claws at you, building the pressure to a fever pitch even as her lips and tongue continue their relentless assault on your sensitive peaks.

“Such a greedy little sex toy,” the older woman murmurs against the quivering flesh, her voice a husky, wicked caress. “Ready to take it all like the perfect slut you were born to be.”

Upon reaching your pussy, Wanda sucks on your outer lips—extracting the sweet honey. The woman’s expert tongue swirls over your clit, making you gasp. You tense and writhe under Wanda’s relentless assault, the wicked witch’s tongue teasing, tasting, claiming every last drop of your offering.

Your soaked, throbbing folds pulse in rhythm with each skillful, searching stroke, the desperate need building to a fever pitch within your core.

“Oh, shit, oh shit, oh fuck—” Your voice cracks, a harsh, pleading moan that reflects the wild, aching desire coursing through your veins. You grind shamelessly against Wanda’s mouth, lost in the overwhelming tsunami of sensation, the relentless drive for release.

“Please, Wanda. I need you—I want you—” you choke in pleasure, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

With a naughty giggle, Wanda replaces her mouth with her fingers, alternating between your clit and your hot entrance. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? All that stimulation Mommy gave you was too much, wasn’t it?” She said, as she rested her chin on top of your mons venus—watching you with burning eyes.

“…So close, please! I feel so good. So good to you, I—” The tears in the corners of your eyes indicate how strong an orgasm you will have.

With a sly smile, Wanda responds, her expert fingers curling and stroking that sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves in deliberate, unyielding circles.

“Come for me, pet,” she purrs darkly against the quivering flesh, “Give me all that sweet, dripping honey. Show Mommy how well-trained a little sex toy like you can be…” The cruel, relentless pleasure builds and builds until your mind goes blank.

As your orgasm hits, you feel a sharp pain between your legs—and for some reason, the mixture of mild pain and intense pleasure increases the throbbing in your belly even more.

“Fuuuck me!!!” The raw, primal sound of ecstasy as your sensitive, tingling flesh shudders and contracts around the older woman’s hand. Your hips buck violently, lost in the tormenting ecstasy of surrender, of release.

In the stormy haze of your climax, a fleeting agony sparks through the velvety softness of your sex—a burning, stinging sensation that for just a moment eclipses the thunderous ecstasy. Yet in the next heartbeat, the exquisite wave of pleasure returns, even more intense, taking you even higher. You were going to come again, and Wanda knew it.

“Yeahhhhh… So tight, my stupid whore,” Wanda’s voice is a seductive growl, a dark promise in every word. "Like this. Take it all, let me have it all…" Her fingers move faster, hitting the spongy spot inside you.

"Are you going to cum again?" the wicked witch asked, thrusting harder. "Are you going to cum with Mommy's little finger in you? Are you going to make a mess of your Mommy's bed?"

"YESSSSS!!!! OH FUUUUUCKKKKKK Mommy, Mommy! "I'M GONNA-C--" Your screams are abruptly cut off as a new burst of intense, shuddering ecstasy rips through your very being.

In that fleeting instant of total surrender, your senses blur into a sea of ​​sensations - the stinging, relentless pleasure, the dark, possessive hunger in Wanda's eyes, the intimate, slippery thrill of possession. Every nerve ending, every synapse is alight with the desire to be filled, to be used, to be claimed… to surrender completely to the relentless, insatiable desire that has ensnared you.

With your breathing quickened and your body trembling, you couldn't speak or move—all you could do was cry and let out all the emotion pent up in your chest.

Wanda noticed the tears rolling down your face before you did. At first, an expression of concern formed in her eyes, replaced by a deep affection that softened you completely. With surprising care, considering the intensity she had shown minutes before, she leaned over you, her fingers still black with power—shakingly wiping away the salty drops that ran down your cheeks.

"Hey, dekta…" her voice was low, sweet, almost a melody. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

You tried to open your mouth, but no sound came out. Still, Wanda seemed to understand. She lay down next to you, wrapping you in her arms with a warmth that was not only physical, but almost magical. Her fingers traced soft patterns on your skin as she whispered words of comfort.

"Shh… it's okay. I'm here. It was all too much for you, wasn't it, pretty girl?"

She ran her hand through your hair, her eyes fixed on you with a kind of reverence that seemed almost sacred. There was no rush, just a constant care and tenderness that seemed to embrace all the broken pieces you didn't even know you carried.

“You’re so precious to me,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “I would face armies for you. Ask for anything, and I’ll give it to you, my little one.” The witch kissed the top of your head, feeling her own heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name.

Your chest tightened at her words, and a soft sob escaped your lips as a sense of safety unlike anything you’d ever known washed over you. She leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, as though wanting to carve the moment into her memory.

“You don’t need to understand it now, but what I feel for you… it’s greater than anything I’ve ever known.” Her eyes gleamed with something that danced between love and possessiveness, though it didn’t make her any less careful or tender.

She pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you tighter against her. “Cry as much as you need, my girl. I’m here. I will always be here.”

That moment was more than comfort; it was a vow. A silent promise that Wanda seemed determined to keep, no matter the cost.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, was pure, raw power—a storm incarnate, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality with a simple gesture. In battle, she was wild, relentless, a hurricane of might no one dared to defy. But with you… it was different.

You were the key to a side of her she never believed could exist—a side that longed for more than destruction and control. A side that wanted to feel and be felt, to be seen and understood. You were the doorway to her own humanity, a part of herself she’d almost forgotten was there.

There was something about you that dismantled all her carefully constructed defenses, disarming her in a way no external force ever could. And it infuriated her. It terrified her. But it also made her crave you with a primal, almost desperate intensity.

She was hard, unyielding—always would be. But with you, she’d discovered what it meant to be vulnerable. Your touch, your gaze, your unwavering trust in her were like a key turning in the rusted gears of a hardened heart.

As she held your face between her hands, still trembling from the ecstasy only she could give you, Wanda realized that no matter how brutal or wild she was, you were the only being in the universe capable of turning her into something more than chaos and destruction.

And that made her want to protect you more than anything else. To shield you from pain, from the world, even from herself—but never to let you go. Because, in the end, you weren’t just the key to who Wanda could be.

You were her destiny, as certain as the power burning through her veins. And she would never let another life, another universe, tear you apart again.

Even with your eyes closed, you felt Wanda’s every word like the notes of an ancient melody, echoing inside you. Her moans, rough and filled with intensity—still playing in a loop in your mind—were more than sounds; they were verses of a visceral poem that seemed to envelop and consume you slowly.

Every sigh carried a secret. Every whisper felt like a hidden promise. And every sound that escaped her lips was a spell, binding you deeper into an abyss where pleasure and devotion intertwined.

It was as if Wanda was composing something eternal—a song only the two of you could hear and understand. And you? You were the sheet music, the instrument, the meaning behind every line and verse.

In that instant, lost between her words and the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you realized you had surrendered more than just your body.

Your soul, with all its scars and longings, had been written by Wanda. And her words—sweet, fierce, and insatiable—would be etched into you as the most beautiful, cruel poetry you’d ever know.

~*~

and yes, it was too much for you.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[hooneeyydroops]

Don’t you worry about your curly hair <3

Fred G. Weasley x reader

My first post ever here on Tumblr! Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes, english is only my second language :’)

Paring: Bsf!Fred Weasley x natural curly/wavy haired!Reader

Notes: Just Fluff. Reader is in gryffindor but you can choose the year! Also, reader and Fred are best friends who have huge crushes on each other lol. Oh and reader is insecure about her hair but Fred makes her feel better.

Summary: Hermione helped you style your natural hair. It was the first time you showed off your natural hair in Hogwarts, especially to Fred.

Word count: 1.5k

Enjoy!

“My hair is so poofy again!” you complained, as you were walking to class with your friend Hermione.

It was the month of November so it was only natural that your hair was becoming this poofy; humidity levels were extremely high in winter at Hogwarts.

“I just don’t know what to do, I can’t straighten them everyday, I don’t want to burn it!” you say, pushing your thick, coarse hair behind your ears. The only good thing was that they kept you very warm during the colder weather (but it was hell during the summer).

“Maybe you should try to stop straightening them” Hermione replied. “I know curly hair is a lot of work but it’s so worth it. Plus you can’t always keep on tying them up like you do during summer”.

You knew her hair was curly just like yours, although she was too lazy to always keep them in place, sometimes leaving them air drying or diffusing without any kind of styling done. Yet it still suited her perfectly in one way or another.

“Maybe you’re right” you say, smiling at her “Why don’t you come with me to the dorm this afternoon? I could use some help from you to do my hair” you continued, as you girls had almost reached the classroom. “Sure thing!” she replied, smiling and excited about your proposal as you two entered the classroom for your charms lesson.

You and Hermione were now in your dorm’s bathroom as you were thoroughly and vigorously washing your hair. She was sitting on the toilet as you guys chatted and laughed together.

“Okay so now that I’m done with the clarifying shampoo I have to put this hair mask on my lenghts?” you asked her as you were kneeled down near the bathtub.

“Yes, just put a generous amount on it and leave it on for five minutes” she replied, looking at you as you put a generous amount of that divine-smelling hair mask she lent you on your hair. You then put them up with a claw clip standing up from that uncomfortable position that you had kept through the whole shampoo step.

“Ow, my back!” You said in pain.

Hermione laughed. “I bet the one that will absolutely adore the most your new look is definitely going to be Fred!” She said with a teasing tone as a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“S-sure…I’m quite nervous to be honest; He’s never seen me with my natural hair, not even once. I only wear them back at home” you replied, worrying about what he’ll say. “Aw c’mon y/n, he’s definitely going to love it. He literally loves everything about you!” she says, trying to uplift your mood a bit.

You rinsed the mask off, as you girls went on with the styling. You brushed your hair then you made sure they were soaking wet as you put on your curl cream, gel and mousse, scrunching your hair with your hands and a towel.

“Looks amazing already” Hermione said in awe, watching your hair “I’ll help you diffuse them”.

Hermione was finally done diffusing your hair. “Now here, give me your hand” she says.

You do as she told and found yourself with some drops of hair oil on your hand.

“Massage it through your hands and slide them through your hair. You can also scrunch a bit”.

You do so.

Then you lifted your head up.

You couldn’t belive your eyes.

Your hair came out so good. Your locks were almost all frizz-free and they framed your face perfectly.

“No way, you look so good with your natural hair! They suit you way more if I have to say!” Hermione said excited as she was looking at you two through the mirror where you were staring at your reflection.

Yet you couldn’t help but think about what Fred’s reaction would be. Sure you looked great, but will he like your new look? What if he thought curly hair were hideous or messy?

Hermione noticed your worried expression. “He’ll love them, I’m sure” she says, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Thanks Hermione”.

“Now come one, put your robe back on, it’s almost dinner time!” she said, helping you out. You watched yourself through the mirror one last time before exiting the dorm, heading towards the great hall were dinner was waiting you two.

You guys entered the great hall taking place near Ron and Harry who had already started eating. You two greeted them but you soon noticed Harry and Ron staring at you. You give them a puzzled look which earned a quick answer from them.

“We’ve just never seen you with your hair like that” Ron started “yeah, they look great” Harry continued. You thanked them as the conversation topic switched to that dreaded potion’s essay you guys had to hand in in three days.

But you just couldn’t focus on the conversation, eyes searching for that tall, ginger prankster who had stolen your heart and that for some reason hasn’t arrived yet.

“You okay y/n?” Harry asked.

“Y-yeah sure” you replied, trying to keep your focus on the conversation.

“Yeah she’s just thinking about her red haired prince charming” Hermione chimed in with a small smirk on her lips. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you stayed silent, rolling your eyes.

The ginger twins entered the great hall, sitting down next to you so quickly that you hadn’t even realised they arrived.

Hi guys-“ George said, lips slightly parted and eyes widened as you turned around. “WOAH Y/N, YOUR HAIR” he said, catching Fred’s attention who looked at you with wide eyes and a small blush on his cheeks “I-is there something wrong with it?” You muttered worryingly. “No no no, it’s actually amazing, we just never saw you like this, right Fred?” He said, eyeing his twin with a smirk as the guy was still staring, lost in his thoughts. “Uhh yeah yeah, he’s right” he said quickly, shaking his head “you look beautiful like this, you know?” he said with a smirk as you felt your cheeks redden. Everybody looked at you two, eyes rolling jokingly as they were all thinking about when you’ll both confess your feelings to each other.

The conversation topic switched again from your hair to this mad prank the twins were pulling on Snape before coming to dinner.

You were now focused, lively as always, although you felt Fred’s eyes glued on you the whole time as you ate dinner and talked with your friends.

Dinner ended and, as you guys were all walking to the gryffindor common room, you felt an arm wrapping around your neck. You looked up, seeing Fred’s face smirking at you again as you looked away.

“So, new look uh?” He said. You guys were now walking behind the others.

“Yeah. It is too humid to use a straightener, my hair becomes poofy five minutes after straightening them” you started “so today Hermione helped me with styling them following their natural pattern” you say as you looked up again just to see that Fred’s eyes had widened “so these are your natural hair?” he asked.

You felt worry wash over you.

“Y-yeah…these are my natural hair.” you say, looking forward.

“Woah” he muttered “but why have I never seen them? I mean, you look bloody gorgeous with your hair like this, why won’t you wear them natural more often?” He asked, his cheeks slightly red as he looked at you with his signature smirk, although his eyes were softer now.

“It’s easier to wear it straightened sometimes” you replied, looking at him “plus, I think curly hair makes me look so messy. They just don’t suit me like they suit Hermione.” You said as your expression saddened. You felt Fred’s arm squeezing you making the butterflies in your stomach swarm like crazy. Since your crush started you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks getting warmer or butterflies in your stomach at every little touch. Even if it was accidental.

“I don’t think they make you look messy. They suit you so much” he said, twirling a curl around one of his fingers, focusing on his own motions “you know, I’ve always loved curly hair” he said, his gaze back on your face “I’ve always found them beautiful, especially on gorgeous girls like you~” he said, winking, his smirk back on his face. “Oh shut up!” You said in between giggles as you felt your cheeks redden as he squeezed you more.

“Never, sunshine~” he says with a playful tone, giving a small peck to your already warm cheek.

You thought he had definitely noticed that your whole face was now on fire, as he started laughing hard while his arm was still around your neck, his hand touching your soft, beautiful curls.

You now knew you had noting to worry about them.

[riddlesrose]

last person you expected

w/ leona kingscholar

in which trein pairs you with leona for a history project but we all know his sleeping habits.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ᯓ★ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

the housewarden’s door opens, revealing a familiar savanaclaw resident peering down at you, a studied grin across his lips. you greet him kindly, thanking him for inviting you over to work on the duo project trein assigned earlier that day. well, it was more of a one-sided invitation, you suggested working on it now so that you could have the weekend to yourselves. he simply shrugged in agreement, telling you to meet him in his dorm by 7.

which brings you here, standing half-awkwardly in leona’s room, unsure of where to set your things, and yourself. he offers the desk, or the floor, or he doesn’t care let’s just get this done. you take the desk, the chair looks comfortable enough for a few hours of sitting on it, the floor does not. 

you two work in tandem, a concentrated pair; he’s answering your questions and flipping through books while you compile all of the research into a presentable project. it surprises you how serious he’s taking this, or how serious it looks like he’s taking the project. you can argue you’re doing more work, but who’s keeping score? 

you start to ask him another question while stretching, feeling your writing hand getting increasingly sore. when leona doesn’t answer or you hear the rustling of paper, you turn to fully look at him. you cross your arms and sigh at the sight; leona’s forehead is pressed into the history textbook, your history textbook, snoring ever so slightly. did he seriously fall asleep that quickly?

thinking of a way to wake him without bursting his personal bubble you grab an extra pen and throw it at his head. the thin plastic tube hits the crown of his head and he instantly reacts, giving you the most intimidating glare his sleep-ridden eyes can muster. it’s not very effective. he rolls his eyes at your apparent amusement at his nodding off, half-ass apologizing while leaning on his hand, flipping through the textbook he was just dozing in.

almost two more hours pass before the project is finally done. all information has been checked over by yourself and leona, though you’re sure he just looked at it and assumed it was right, handing it back a lot sooner than he should’ve. 

you can feel the weight of your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute, though it’s only nearing 10pm and you’ve definitely stayed up later, you’re beat. after a week's worth of classes, school work and everything else in between, you’re ready for this day to be over. you can practically hear your bed calling your name all the way from ramshackle dorm. 

the housewarden’s already halfway back to unconsciousness by the time you clear your stuff off of his desk. his eyes follow you with a sort of intent that has you scared you did something wrong while you sort through the papers and textbooks at the foot of his bed where you threw a stack of history notes at him when you arrived. while searching for yours, you neatly compile his books and few papers in a stack and leave it on his desk. his small amount of notes compared to your organized stack is almost comical.

when you go to leave you hear leona shift and call for you, asking you to wait. you pause and step back, turning to rest a knee on the edge of his bed so you can hover nearer to him, head cocked to the side. when he makes no effort to continue his statement you take the pen that previously struck his head and poke him on the forehead with it. he’s quick to threaten to snap the poor pen as if it’s at fault. you roll your eyes and turn to leave for a second time but you’re stopped by a hand catching your wrist, stopping you. 

leona doesn’t know what comes over him but all he musters is, “stay.” and it doesn’t sound like a question, but not a command either. more of a.. suggestion? before you could press further you’re slightly tugged closer towards his bed, the grip on your wrist is light enough that you could break free at any point, but you don’t. 

you allow yourself to be guided into leona’s hold, head tucked deftly under his chin. an arm makes its way around your torso, its owner humming in satisfaction. 

you were here to finish school work, not be dragged into sleeping with savanaclaw’s housewarden.. not like it’s a bad thing though, he’s always been on your radar. from the first day you accidentally woke him up and his (almost) empty threats, it's a weird sort of endearing, you find. 

your eyelids betray your curious mind, the warmth enveloping you lulling you into a quick rest, you can see why leona calls upon sleep so easily, he’s warm as hell, making for a comfortable meat-headed radiator. 

you wake the next morning significantly more rested than you expected, thanks to the warm rays of sun drifting in through leona’s window. leona, however, is not a fan of his personal pillow moving, so he drags you back down for what you surmise is going to be a lazy saturday with the last person you expected. 

masterlist

[punksyeet]

- Just Because ❥

Plot: After being apart for over two weeks, Roman takes his lady on a date to make up for lost time.

Warning: Lots of fluff & heavy romance!

A/N: another massive thank you to whoever requested this one. if you know me, you know that i’m an absolute sucker for romance, so i wrote this with my heart. i hope you enjoy! 🌹💗

—————————————————————————————————

“I missed you so much sweetheart,” Joe says in between kisses to my temple.

I smile, my head laid against his chest, and look up at him. “I missed you more, love.”

He pulls away smiling, a gorgeous shimmer in his eyes. “Impossible.”

I chuckle and cup his face, tucking away a thin strand of hair that came loose from his bun.

Joe just got home from a work trip - more specifically, a PLE in Saudi Arabia.

Normally I’d attend big events with him, but this trip was over two weeks long, so I stayed back to watch after our children and such.

However, once they found out he was coming home today, Joe’s parents offered to take the kids so that we’d have some time to ourselves.

“Just don’t come pick them up with any more grandbabies,” his mom teased us with a wink.

While his time on the road isn’t easy for either of us, seeing him again is so worth the wait every single time. <3

That same shimmer in his eyes turn into mischief, and I can tell that an idea comes to him.

“What are you up to, Mr. Anoa’i?” I ask, narrowing my eyes with a smirk.

He chuckles and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Well Mrs. Anoa’i,” he teases, earning a giggle from me. “How would you like to check out that new fancy restaurant downtown?”

I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “What’s the occasion?”

“Just because,” he replies, shrugging. “I missed you a little extra this trip. And I love spoiling you, baby. You deserve every bit of it.”

I giggle, shaking my head. “My hubby, you’re something else.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he teases, a playful smirk plastered on his face. “Now, go get all dolled up for me sweet thing.”

Just then, the perfect outfit comes to mind.

“No coming upstairs until I’m ready,” I order, holding up my pinky. “Promise?”

Knowing how much I love dressing up, - not only for him, but in general - he chuckles and loops his smallest finger with mine before we kiss our hands. “I promise, beautiful.”

Satisfied, I kiss the corner of his mouth before running upstairs.

Once I step into our closet, my eyes automatically land on the dress: a black leather bodycon that hugs me in all the right places.

I bought this dress about a week ago, meaning Joe has never seen me in it, so I’m beyond excited to get his reaction.

I decide to freshen up with an everything shower, using all Victoria’s Secret Bare Vanilla scented products.

Once finished, I come back into the bedroom and start getting dressed: a pretty red lingerie set, the dress of course, some diamond jewelry that Joe got me for Valentine’s Day, my favorite black heels, and one of my many LV bags.

Afterwards, I head back into the bathroom to do some final touches.

I decide to just blow-dry my hair and throw on some very natural makeup aside from a red lip, allowing my natural curls and skin to breathe.

As I’m fluffing out my hair, I hear a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart?” Joe calls from the other side. “I left my watch on the counter. Can I come in?”

I take a deep breath and do some final checks in the mirror. “Yeah I’m all ready.”

“Thanks ba…” his voice trails off when the door opens and he sees me, stood in the mirror.

I turn to face him, gently biting my lip, as his eyes scan my entire body.

“Baby doll you look incredible,” he compliments, walking over and lifting my hand above my head, spinning me.

“Thank you love,” I reply, blushing like a maniac. “You look amazing yourself.”

“I better,” he coos, wrapping his arms around me and caressing my ass through the leather. “With a sexy lady like you on my arm.”

“Stop,” I mutter, blushing and looking down.

Chuckling, he gently lifts my head up by my chin. “Don’t act all shy now, girl. You knew exactly what you were doing with this dress.”

Instead of answering, I adjust his already-perfectly-placed red tie.

He smirks and takes my hand, pressing the top to his lips. “You all ready to go, love? Our reservations are in half an hour.”

I nod, intertwining our fingers. “All ready.”

He flashes me a gorgeous smile before stepping aside and letting me out of our bedroom first. “After you, beautiful.”

I smile and lead us downstairs. 

—————————————————————————————————

“Take care of her for me,” Joe teases the valet guy, nodding towards his black SUV and handing him a generous tip.

The man chuckles before taking the money. “Will do, sir. Thank you.”

Joe responds with a smile and quick nod, before placing a hand on my lower back and leading us inside the restaurant.

“Welcome in,” the woman at the host stand greets us, with a wide smile.

“Hi there,” he replies sweetly, rubbing soft circles onto my skin. “Reservation for Joe?”

The lady taps away at her iPad before nodding and looking back up at us. “Perfect. Right this way.”

She leads us up a flight of stairs and onto a rooftop, which is completely empty.

“Here we are,” she says, once we reach our table. “The private bar and chef are just around the corner of the building, so you have some extra privacy.”

Joe gives her a satisfied nod. “Amazing, thank you.”

She nods back with a smile. “My pleasure. You two enjoy.”

As she walks away, Joe pulls out a chair for me.

“Joe,” I begin, looking around. “You rented out the rooftop? And a private bar and chef? Just for a casual date? This is crazy.”

He chuckles and kisses my cheek. “Darling, I told you earlier. I love spoiling you.”

“I know but…” he cuts me off before I can rebuttal any further.

“Enough,” he demands, cupping my face. “I barely see you as it is with how hectic my job can be. Let me spoil you while I have the opportunity to.”

I let out a sigh, accepting defeat, and sit down. “Alright. Thank you.”

He lets out a hum of approval before pecking my lips and sitting across from me.

Throughout the dinner, we share some small and romantic talk, stolen kisses, and just all around enjoy each other’s company.

As I take a final sip from my wine glass, soft music from an outdoor jazz bar across the street starts playing at full volume.

I look over the balcony and smile, watching the band play and couples slow dance together.

All of a sudden, I hear Joe clear his throat, causing me to look up.

He’s stood by my chair, holding out his hand.

“May I have this dance, miss?” he offers, a gorgeous smile on his face.

I giggle softly, taking his hand and standing up. “Of course you may, sir.”

His chuckles and pulls me in, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck.

We start swaying to the soft beat.

“This is so romantic,” I coo, looking into his deep brown eyes, running my fingers through his soft curls.

He smiles, nodding in agreement. “It is.”

We lean in and share a sweet kiss, touching foreheads as we pull away.

“Thank you for tonight,” I speak up again, my voice just above a whisper.

He pulls away and strokes my face with his knuckle, looking down at me and smiling. “Anything for my favorite girl.”

I smile and lean in once again, pressing my lips to his in a passionate kiss.

He immediately kisses back, stroking my back in the process.

Once we pull apart, I lay my head on his chest, inhaling my favorite cologne.

He presses a kiss to my hair and holds me close.

—————————————————————————————————

When we finally get home, I immediately plop down on the sofa with a heavy sigh.

Joe shuts the door and walks over, chuckling. “You alright, sweetheart?”

I let out a soft chuckle myself. “Between this food coma and all that dancing, I might be dying.”

He smiles, shaking his head and taking a seat next to me. “Here, angel. Let me help you.”

I give him a tired but grateful smile as he gently lifts my legs, lays them across his lap, and starts removing my heels.

Once they’re off, he strokes and applies feather-like kisses to my legs.

“Baby you’re a lifesaver,” I coo dreamily, my head sinking into the sofa cushion.

He chuckles and, instead of responding, gently lifts me up bridal style.

“Where are we going?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He kisses my temple. “To get you into a hot bath. It’ll help the soreness go away and help you relax.”

I lay my head against his chest. “Mmm, honey that sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he replies, setting me down onto the sink when we finally make it upstairs. “Because it’ll feel amazing too.”

He gives me a quick kiss before turning to the tub and prepping some hot water and lavender scented soap.

I watch on as he heads into the bedroom to grab some tiny candles and lines them up against the porcelain as well.

“Joe,” I call out quietly. “You don’t need to do all this, love.”

He turns back around and cups my face, smiling softly. “I want to, baby doll. For you.”

I stick out my bottom lip and he chuckles before pecking it.

“Now,” he continues, reaching back to tie up my hair. “Let’s get you into the tub, hm?”

I nod and slide off the sink.

“How is it?” he asks, holding my hand and helping me lower my body into the water. “Need anything changed?”

I shake my head and sigh dreamily, my eyes fluttering closed. “It’s perfect, Joe. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles before leaning down and applying a kiss to my temple. “The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.”

I give him a soft smile and brush our noses together.

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, he breaks it.

“Now relax my love,” he coos, giving my cheek one last stroke. “I’ll be in to check on you soon.”

I nod and sink further into the water, allowing the heat and lavender to take over.

** Roman’s POV **

After about 15 minutes since I left Gianna in the bathroom pass, I decide to check on her.

“Sweetheart?” I call out, knocking at the door. “You alright in there?”

When I don’t get an answer, I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“Gi? Baby?” I ask, knocking again.

Once again, no answer.

What is she doing in there? Is she okay?

I open the door slightly and peek my head in, brought with quite the sight: my wife fast asleep in the bath, light snores pouring out of her parted lips.

I cover my mouth to prevent laughing too loudly, walk over, and sit on the edge of the tub.

“Sweetheart?” I call just above a whisper, stroking her hair. “Honey, we gotta get you out of here.

Her eyes slowly open and she looks around, then at me, confused as ever.

“W-what happened?” she asks, her voice still groggy and raspy from being on cloud nine literal seconds ago.

I chuckle, tucking a couple strands of loose hair behind her ear. “You fell asleep in the bath.”

“Oh,” she replies, sitting up. “I’m sorry. I guess it was more perfect than I thought.”

“Darling don’t be sorry,” I reassure, smiling and helping her up. “Careful, now.”

She steps out and I help her into her favorite fluffy robe.

“Mmm,” she hums in approval, laying her head against my chest. “Thank you, love.”

I smile and kiss her soft curls. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Let’s get you in bed, hm?”

She nods and we head back into the bedroom to do just that.

Once her head hits the pillow, she’s off to dreamland once again.

Watching on, I smile and apply a light kiss to her lips. “Sleep well, my queen.”

Liked by romanreigns, uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu, and 12.8k others

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[beef-brisket]

Charlie wanted to sass them for being so adorable, but really, all this did was make her miss Vaggie. More than usual, anyway.

Adam: We can always come back. This place is ours, I fucking brought it.

Charlie: YOU brought a house?

Lucifer rolled his eyes: By "brought it" he means that he went to the owner and hypnotised them.

Adam laughed: Fuck that was funny. They sighed everything over! I made them lose their memory afterwards, so they don't remember jack shit.

Charlie stared at Adam: I don't think it's safe that you can hypnotise people.

Adam: Oh, yeah, no. Not safe. AT ALL. But what are you going to do about it? We just have to go with the flow... unless I do something about it!

Adam winked at Charlie, who looked shocked as Adam walked inside. Jumping, she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder.

Lucifer: Don't mind him. He doesn't mean it. Mostly.

Lucifer soon followed Adam inside, Charlie still didn't know what to think. There was a slight curiosity if Charlie could hypnotise people, or maybe that was a power specific to Adam.

Walking inside, she looked around. It was almost the same as they left it. It's been so long that Charlie can't even remember why they left, or she wouldn't if they didn't stop off at the hotel. That hunt feels like years ago, even though it was just weeks.

She eyed Adam, who was standing in front of a bookcase, looking in a small velvet box.

Charlie: Adam? What's that?

Adam turned and smiled at her: This is how Lucifer fell for my extremely good looks.

She walked over, and she was definitely curious. But when she saw what was in the box, she raised her eyebrow.

Charlie: A gay bracelet?

Adam laughed: I mean... you're not wrong. This is what Lu used to stop my power, so I was just... a guy. Because of him, I learned who I was. I lost that thousands of years ago. Everyone only wanted me because of what I was and what I could do for them. But this stopped the only thing about me that was worth a fuck. I was able to just... be me. Well, I first learned who 'me' was... and then, I played my cards, and Lucifer liked what card he got. I also have a great ass, so put the pieces together.

Charlie: That was... weirdly cute.

Adam: Damn right it was fucking cute.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[like-tears-in-rain-storms]

Ok just had to share because I've been seeing these people all around and yet it had never happened directly to me.

So, great review of Nosferatu, and I get into A Situation with a person claiming that Orlok is a psychic pdfile rapist of child-Ellen and what's more, the covenant he tricked her into making with him symbolizes a marriage contract,thus Ellen is the analogue of a child bride and a denunciation of the buying and selling of women as brides through history and during that period in particular - also class analysis of how he's a parasite that sucks people dry, yadda yadda, we all know the class analysis. Now that's certainly....a take, and tbh I can see some elements of it sleekly fitting in with the way Eggers structures his themes, but to treat it so absolutely as THE explanation of such an intricate narrative....yeah. I had some issues with that.

And the whole affair ends with that person telling me verbatim, I kid you not, "you should examine why it is that you have a romantic reading on such an one-sided relationship between an undead rapist killer and his teenage victim".

And I'm like....what is this supposed to be? An own? Is it supposed to make me stop dead on my tracks and go "oh yeesh. Why am I romanticizing the goddamn gothic romance????? Am I some kind of monster? A ticking time bomb who'll listen tomorrow about a teen grooming victim of some degenerate and go "yeah but consider that she might have called on him on her dreams to liberate her and spread Covid around"???

To make a long story short, that passive-aggressive urge to self-psychologize with the hint that there's something wrong with myself did absolutely nothing to me,and I can explain it already as I did.

I had a romantic reading because I like gothic romance.

That's it, that's all the answer needed.

But I'm feeling rambly, so I'll elaborate. Because I like sounding the depths of the human mind and will and I like imagining it against powers that defy human measures. Because I like to imagine human nature as a universe, full of it's own destructive phenomena, natural disasters, secret cave systems and toxic geysers. Because in fiction I am free to do so, and can taste flavors that I would never seek out in the real world, like the vertigo of fulfilling the need for self-destruction, or the grandeur of being worth more than the entire world to someone, and what's more, I can acknowledge they exist, and can safely follow them to their logical limits from behind the safety of a book cover. Because on the page we can live out what can't be lived out in the real world even if we tried and because "some things belong on the page, others in life, and it's a blessed fool who can't tell the difference" and I don't know how others see themselves, but I am neither blessed nor a fool.

So needless to say, that wasn't the one it was probably intended as. Really interesting, though, to see such limited-minded puritanism take the stand on the event of Nosferatu coming out. Really interesting how, somehow, they are sounding more and more like crusaders of moral purity for the easily-deceived masses, only now dressed in some righteous "anti-abuse" garb, like abuse in the world will be affected if someone on the internet says that maybe the devouring embodiment of darkness that was rotting alive in the movie had some lasting and fatal effect on Ellen, and it didn't have to be love for it to be defining.

The real question is, why when your limit is the sky and you can make playgrounds out of your mind, do people feel the need to bring everything down to the unromantic, pedestrian and depressive reality that surrounds us whether we want it or not? As far as passive-aggressive urges for self-reflection go, I think that's a much more potentially productive one.

[sainteclectic]

what are your thoughts on hms(w?) having ocd?

ohoho... rubs my hands together...

first of all, all of them struggle with checking compulsions in their own ways, and I'll get into how that manifests! they all have bfrb too - mind picks his skin, heart pulls at his feathers, soul bites his nails, and whole bites his lips. specifics under the cut because this got LONG whoops

heart is superstitious. he just knows something bad will happen if he ends on an unlucky number, if he doesn't wish on 11:11, if he steps on cracks. he refuses to get rid of anything - what if he needs it? what if he can't find it again? what if he accidently gets rid of something important? he walks through the doorway three times. three is a lucky number. did someone throw away that box? better check everything in his room to be safe. he repeats the thirteenth object three times. is he going to die? the thought sticks in his brain. he asks the others, needing reassurance, or it'll just get louder. he memorizes every crack in the house so he doesn't accidently step on one he can't see. he can't find something. he asks them if they moved it. he freaks out if they throw his things away, convinced something horrible will happen to them. get more reassurance. they're annoyed with how much he asks, but it's better than the alternative.

mind's sense of personal responsibility is warped, with him believing it's up to him to do everything right. this leads to him obsessively checking everything is in order - the others are behaving, the books are all in their right place, the doors are locked, check they're behaving again, click the lock again [what if it's broken?], did someone move a book? everything is his responsibility, he has to ensure it's all in working order. he's the only one who can do it. check the stove. never trust the other two to do a good enough job. twist the lock once, twice, three times for good measure. it's irrational. he shouldn't be irrational. reread that text message again. why is he doing this? he can't stop. what if something bad happens if he doesn't? that makes no sense. but what if it's rational the next time he checks, what if he's justified? he's always justified. organize the drawer again.

soul has primarily moral ocd and harm ocd, with some fun religious guilt sprinkled in there for flavor. he obsesses over his morality, over if his actions have hurt anyone {especially during concord, where he's terrified of ruining things}, of if he's making whole proud. he compulsively checks that he's doing the right thing, that heart and mind are safe, and it can get a little overbearing for the other two. he prays. he repeats his prayers three times, just to be safe. he worries he's not close enough to being whole, trying desperately to mimic whole in everything he does. was that what whole would do? go over everything he's done that day, make sure he did everything right. he has thoughts of hurting heart and mind. he sees their violent deaths in his mind. repent. he wonders if he's being selfish. he prays three times, just to be safe.

and whole... whole has a lot of issues when it comes to other people, and since his main coping mechanism is avoidance, it means that he avoids relationships completely. he obsesses over if he's done something wrong, if he hurt someone, if something happened to them. he rereads all his messages over and over to make sure he didn't say anything bad. he goes over the signs that they might hate him in his head. he obsessively checks their activity to make sure they're okay, their posts and texts, spiraling if they haven't said anything in a while. was that the wrong thing to say? did he remember that interaction right? ruminate over their responses. do they still like him? look over their texts to make sure they didn't sound annoyed, go over their last interaction again. it doesn't seem worth it. he hides himself away, hoping that avoiding people will make it go away. it never does.

and of course, they're all convinced that their specific ocd is normal and reasonable while the others are the weird ones. heart is frustrated they never listen to his concerns and they're the stubborn ones, mind is convinced his rituals are the only rational ones and the others are being foolish, soul believes he's inherently Wrong in some way and thus it's reasonable, and whole thinks he's solved the issue by avoiding his issues entirely. something something wow these people are freaks thank god I'm the only normal one here

[gojocon]

I lowkey (highkey) fw gojo baby trapping core 😍

as do i nonnie as do i : )

i just wanna milk his older man cock for all it’s worth and get knocked up without his permission and force him to be a daddy to my kids and make him fall for me and want only me and it doesn’t matter if the age gap is too big i want him i want him i want him and i’ll make him see that he wants me too

i want to be his little housewife that he comes home to everyday and while he’s sitting on the couch to relax, i ride him to relieve his stress and maybe he’ll knock me up again but this time it’ll be consensual on his part

i want him to be obsessed with me and get jealous when guys my age look my way but then i have to reassure him later while letting him fuck me for the nth time that day cause i’m insatiable, that he’s the only man in my life and that by getting me pregnant again it would fix things and they’d stop ogling me and that i’m only his pretty young thing, nobody else’s

i want him to keep me pregnant as much as possible but at one point when he decides he doesn’t want anymore kids i start poking holes in the condoms he stupidly thinks to wear even though he says it doesn’t feel as good so then i suggest i take birth control but i’m really not so when he’s hitting it raw he’s actually risking me getting pregnant every time and we go at it like feral animals multiple times a day so there’s a higher chance of it happening

i want to give him the perfect little family he deserves cause he’s not getting any younger but i’m young and fertile and so his seed takes all the time and i just keep getting pregnant and our children take after him so much cause his genes are so strong that i only give birth to white haired blue eyed babies and it drives him insane cause my genes barely put up a fight and it’s even more arousing to him when he manages to knock me up with twins cause it just proves how willing i am to take everything he gives me

i want him to see how good i am with our babies and taking care of children for him to reconsider his stance on the whole ridiculous notion that he doesn’t want to father anymore kids and how i deserve a couple more for being such a good mother and wife

oh and it makes my tits bigger so that’s a bonus : )🤍

[minniesmutt]

     I know I’m a few days late to talk about this, but I still want to. I also want other’s opinions on this, and I do have a poll going for the week to see what others say, but regarding Stray Kids Offical Fan Club, as an international stay, it is not worth it in my personal opinion.

     I have seen other stays on social media talk about this as well and why they won’t be getting the fan club this year. I have only been a stay since January of 2023. So, I can only speak about the fan club from last year and not the year before. But I did want to share this in case I’m weirdly the only person you ever see talk about this or value my opinion in some way (please don’t; that’s a lot of responsibility on me, and most of my opinions come off as asshole-y)

     Most of what I have gathered as to why I-Stays are upset or not getting the fan club is as follows: pricing, lack of benefits, and difficulties with yes24.

     Starting with yes24, it is a little hard to navigate, especially if your device is translating it to your native language since not every language can share the same words/phrases when translating from one to another. Sometimes, I have to fill in the blanks in my head when translating from Korean to English on the site, so it makes sense in my head. But that’s not the main reason I’m seeing issues.

     Many I-stays are having payment issues. When they enter their card information, they get a lot of error pop-ups saying something is wrong—yes24 also will not let you use PayPal or any other payment site to pay—and I will admit I remember having this problem last year with the 4th-gen fan club, Stay Hideout. Along with the payment issues, overseas shipping for the kit is 2-3x as much as the kit. Now, the kit is a small box with photo cards, a photo book, ID badges, and lots of other little goodies that (at least for me) kinda just sit on our shrines/displays. The box is about $25 USD, and from what I remember, I paid about $80 last year.

     Some people may think, “$80 isn’t too bad. I’d pay that for all that stuff!”. And if you have the money to spend that, I applaud you for having your finances sorted out like that. Not everyone can afford that.  But Stays are also promised other perks within Fan Club. Part of that is Exclusive FANS content and concert perks—from what I have read, presale codes, fan club ticket prices, and stay zone. From my personal experience, I only got full FAN access— community posts, commenting, interacting with the boys, etc.— and the kit. I did not have presale codes for the tour— my stop is in May— and from what other stays have said on SM, there is nothing for those of us with the membership at the concerts like there is for K-stays. Paying way more in just shipping to receive fewer benefits because we live farther.

     FANS are a whole other thing. If you don’t know and are wondering why I said “full FANS access,” that is because last year when FANS first launched, everyone, fan club or not, could comment on the community. This had led to —I did not see this happening, but I did see the message JYPE decided to put out regarding this— hate being directed towards the boys on the public forum. JYPE then changed everything and made it so that you could only really do anything on there if you had a fan club membership. This did upset a few baby stays, from what I saw, who did want to interact but had joined the fandom after the recruitment period. The “exclusive content” they told us we would get was BTS photos and photos for their birthdays. Then, they would get shared by other stays not long after they were posted.

     Yes, you could sign up for events, but most of them are live, and not everyone can drop everything and get on a plane to Korea to participate in these events. Looking back, there were a few streaming events for their albums last year, and that was it. But those were then posted on the x/twitter account. So it wasn’t “exclusive”

     And with FANS, the only ones actively engaging with stay are Hyunjin, Seungmin, and I.N. Chan and Changbin for a day, Felix and Lee Know are very rarely there. Han posted one thing, and he was never heard from again on FANS. I (personally) would rather pay for their bubble subscriptions than have FANS access.

     Now, if you are okay with all this as an I-Stay, go ahead and buy that membership, babes! If you read this and go, “What the fuck?” I’m with you. I-stays are in the background as they cater to k-stays and j-stays, which I understand. Stray Kids is a Korean boy group first, and they do have Japanese albums and debuts (I do how that all works; I just see J-stays getting better perks than other i-stays, i.e., dome tour), so the company does focus on them more. But a lot of us I-stays are there for the streaming events. We are a very large part of their fan base, and we all know if they could do more for us, they would. Skz does not know us, but they do love us. If you just like having all their merch and stuff, it might be worth it in that aspect, but it's up to you. I just wanted to share what I saw and what I felt.

TLDR: Pay too much for two things and skz are barely active on the community app so it’s not worth it in my opinion.

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

*Stanley nearly jumped a foot in the air when the attention shifted so abruptly to him, the sharp, condescending tone making his blood run cold. The words were an insult, no doubt about it, but Stan couldn’t find a response— he didn’t know how to engage with someone who clearly wasn’t worth the effort. The insult, while jarring, was almost comically pathetic. Responding almost seemed like a waste of breath.*

*The more the brunette thought about it, though, the more it gnawed at him— this version of Ford was unraveling, and the cracks in the man’s self-assurance were showing. The posture, the words— it was all so fragile. This man was fragile. It was laughably pitiful, really.*

*It was almost like staring Crampelter in the face again. Funny.*

"Who said anythin’ about me givin’ up on that seafarin’ dream?"

*Stan’s voice was almost too calm, but the words burned as they left his mouth. He’d said it casually, but in his head, it felt like he was taking a shot. The tension in the room was thick enough to suffocate, and he couldn’t help but let it slip that he was getting fed up with this whole charade.*

*His fist clenched tightly at his side, but Stanley stopped himself from snapping. He didn’t need to sink to the same level as this variant of Ford. Even if his patience was wearing thin, he wasn’t about to give the guy any satisfaction of a reaction.*

"If you’re going to get on his case for cheating, try being more creative with those jabs. Stanley is where he is on his own damn merit."

*Stanford’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and clipped. He stood firm, a wall of authority in the middle of the room, his words aimed at his counterpart. He wasn’t going to let anyone disrespect his brother. Not here. Not now. Not ever.*

*Bill's gaze flickered nervously between the two versions of his dear friend, an uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach. Every word, every tone from this variant felt like a slap to the face, and they weren't even directed at him! He could tell Ford wasn’t in the mood to entertain any of this, but the blond was also painfully aware that his friend couldn’t just stand by while this man treated his brother like dirt. Stanford's temper was barely contained.*

*Fiddleford’s hand hovered as if he could physically stop Ford from digging himself into a deeper hole. His mind screamed at him to do something before things got worse, but he knew better. He couldn’t intervene without making everything more chaotic. Still, the dread bubbling in his gut told him that words were about to get them into something they might not escape from unscathed.*

"We’re similar, not the same. Big difference."

*Stanford’s words were laced with venom, his gaze darkening. He took a small step forward, only stopped by the fact Bill was holding him in place. His voice was barely above a growl when he continued.*

"At least I’m not pathetic enough to call my own twin a loser for my benefit. You’re just as miserable as the gene donor I’m unfortunately sired by."

*The silence that followed was so thick, it was almost tangible. The air felt suffocating, a cold weight pressing down on all of them as the words echoed in the room. Stanford’s accusation was a shot to the heart, a direct hit that left no room for anyone to move.*

*Stanley and Fiddleford shared a brief glance— horror flashing across both their faces. Had Stanford completely lost it? Or did he honestly think that the consequences of such biting words wouldn’t come crashing down on them? The tense, nervous energy in the air was almost unbearable, and they couldn’t tell whether Ford had just set them up for disaster or whether he actually believed he had the upper hand.*

*The room was a bomb waiting to explode.*

"Now isn't... this... interesting~?"

@the-muses-puppeteer

*The four of them couldn't help but stare, their eyes locking on the figure before them. It was undeniably Ford— or at least an obvious version of him— but the sight of the man had each of them reeling in their own way.*

"WHO???"

*Stan’s voice cracked slightly as he stumbled back a step, his finger jabbing toward the otherworldly variant. His eyes darted between the figure and his brother, his tone a wild mix of confusion, fear, and outright disbelief. He gripped the back of a chair for support, as though bracing himself for the sheer absurdity of it all.*

"Why does he have so many eyes?"

*Fiddleford stepped closer to Stan, his voice low but tinged with alarm. His brows furrowed deeply as he leaned forward, squinting at the glowing figure like it was an unsolvable equation. Concern dripped from every word, his mind clearly racing to process the sight before him.*

"Fordsy, why do you have so many copies?"

*Bill attempted a laugh, his tone light and teasing, but the pitch betrayed his nerves. His gaze flicked from the variant to the Ford he knew, his hands fidgeting as if unsure whether to gesture in disbelief or shield himself from potential doom. Something about the other Stanford sent chills down his spine.*

"SAYS THE ONE WITH A TRIANGLE FOR A CLONE???"

*Ford threw his arms in the air, his exasperation boiling over. His sharp tone was laced with frustration as he turned to Bill, clearly fed up with the double standards. His expression twisted between irritation and something dangerously close to betrayal as he gestured toward the variant that bore his likeness.*

"Who are you?! And why do you look like me?!"

[skyward-floored]

The yearly struggle over a Christmas/birthday list ugh

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[nonsensechemicals]

covert npd is awesome and i want to live and i’m going to listen to song about pirates

[cielosuerte]

something distinctly sad & frustrating internally about watching someone go through something chronically awful & similar on the face of it to your own horrors & wanting to reach out and talk to them about it to offer support & knowing that by nature of the similarity that is almost definitely the last thing they want/need & so you have to sort of watch from afar and psychically beam your words at them and hope it clicks soon