#another time she was like ‘have you ever been to [local con]’

[irisfixation]

it is generally understood within the adventuring community that some sort of contract should be preemptively made in order to protect oneself from an untimely death.

[original hypnosis fic, second-person narration from perspective of the subject. gender-neutral, little to no sexual content. please read accordingly, and enjoy.]

now, the act of seeking out such a contract, let alone the fact of its normalization, would have been taboo a few decades past. "we don't negotiate with pact-entities", the old elders crow; anti-demon and anti-fae rhetoric was accepted as the norm.

it only took looking at the rate of mortality, the expenditures of the local church, and getting over themselves to at last shake up the in-culture of heroics.

of course, that didn't mean they weren't diligent with their new protocols; information on prospective patrons was inscribed down in ledgers half phone book and half grimoire, noting the terms of agreement, the trustworthiness of pact-entity after pact-entity, any bargain a little too faustian struck through in red.

you'd watch your peers peer through the book, discussing the pros and cons of each. was an unlucky fate too much to pay? were compulsions too obstructive, did the bodily changes contrast too much with one's self-identity?

of course, they all ended up choosing sooner or another. better that than dying young and alone.

it was under this sort of necessity that you went to the house.

-------

it was closer to home than you expected, really - you anticipated some kind of ominous manor on the cliffs, or secluded cabin by the forest's edge, so the three minute walk from the town square came as a welcome surprise. its residence looked the same as any other lodging - you'd no doubt walked past it on your regular commutes countless times without batting an eye.

you knocked, and the door fell open, as if it had been awaiting your arrival; afternoon sunlight bouncing off the gossamer-thin threads adorning the hallway.

make yourself at home, she says. i'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk. you nod and ask if there's any consequences for eating any food or drink. i promise you this; all food i've set out here is yours to eat and drink without consequence comes the reply; perhaps a little verbose from anyone else, but necessary caveats for a pact-entity's trust. you oblige.

with throat wet and stomach sated, you ascend the stairs. the bedroom is small, humble even; you've seen more expensive homes by far from some of your more show-off rivals. more fit for a pauper than the-

"than Her Lady of Marionettes?"

yeah.

"i never cared all too much for the trappings of nobility. i'm satisfied simply living in peace here."

then why the contracts?

"it's mutually beneficial, no? i quench my thirst for control for a time, and you don't meet any horrible, lonely fates. it's no different from any other line of work."

more reasonable than any would-be evil queen you've ever met, let alone one considered an enemy to the hero's guild not so long ago.

"please. i never cared all too much for that arrangement."

she rolls in her bed to face you. despite her role, she looks little different from your sister or partner; eyes still closed, hands still set upon her crosses.

-------

you discuss business. she will string you up, she says; and then, if she were to find yourself in an otherwise fatal scenario, she will pull your body back, mend you, even clear your mind from any hostile entities trying to take it over.

what do each of you get out of this?

"i get to observe the world through your eyes. i get the joy of commanding a body beyond my own. you cede a small, negotiated amount of control, and in return you are freed from tragedy's grasp forevermore."

it sounded like a hell of a better deal than half of the faustian bargains you saw other contract-entities propose.

"if you'd like, we can provide a demonstration here and now. no permanent alterations, and you can back out any time you wish. is that amenable?"

it does indeed sound amenable.

-------

you're sitting by her side on the bed. she's set her crosses down in place of a needle she holds deftly between thumb and forefinger, pinched together like a bee ready to sting. "hold your left arm out, please? we'll begin now."

you do so, and she passes the needle through skin. you feel it travel up across the veins in your wrist, her other hand steadying you in place with the tenderness of lily-petals. your elbow twitches as it passes through; the nerves firing once in shock, but no more. up through bicep, then shoulder; and then out, a release in pressure from within as the needle finally leaves your insides, leaving a trail of silken fibres behind it.

she plucks the taut string left in its wake, and your arm twitches with it, pulled from within. "see? no pain at all."

next is the right arm, then the legs. she flutters around you like a sprite alighting upon forest blossoms, soft fingers and steel-precise nails moving you, adjusting your wrist or shoulders or rotation with studious diligence. the intimacy of being studied and guided like this is almost palpable.

"...and, done." she declares, finishing a line of thread across the shoulders and through the nape of the neck. "well, how is it? comfortable, right?"

"yes, miss", you are made to say; and then, immediately, recall the strings through your upper and lower lip alike, a third running through the seam in your tongue. right. you move your eyes to meet hers; she's smiling brightly, but it's more the naive smile of a child than the former evil queen's smirk you expected. the effect is equal amounts unsettling and genuinely cute.

"well, let's begin." she picks up her crosses again, and with one subtle rotation of a hand's balance, she guides you.

it's easy to follow through. your right arm raises with a poise and natural nature that shocks you, outstretched to one side. she returns her hand to neutral, and your arm falls back once again, more sudden and limp than you were expecting.

("excellent", she says.)

with that first test done, she guides you down the stairs. your eyes are still your own, so some reflexive part of you fidgets as your body glides down each flight of steps; you have no control over if you fall or not. she could throw you down the stairs now, and you'd be helpless; passenger in your own tumbling body.

but she doesn't. your hand remains firmly upon the balustrade, and your every footstep is delivered with care. by the time you reach the landing, your heart may be pounding, but you're just glad to have made it through.

("well done," crows her voice.)

the near-invisible threads all throughout your body continue to urge you forward - sometimes single strings tugging suddenly, but other times shifting in a steady unison, almost imperceptible from your body's natural movements save that no thought of your own guides it. you're in the kitchen, before too long - a rack of dried dishes shows that she, too, has been here recently. your fingers and palm grasp onto each bowl and glass, one by one, filing them away in procedure through the unfamiliar house.

with your body outside of your control, you'd think your mind would wander to idle thoughts; to the birdsong from beyond the window, perhaps, or to thoughts of how your companions are faring in their own attempts to find their own contracts. but all thoughts seem to be silenced by each consequent string's plucking, a resonance within yourself that numbs your brain under its force.

before you know it, the rack of dishes is clear, and you are ascending the stairs again. it's less scary going up, and she knows it; she takes each step faster now, with a fluidity of movement that your legs accept graciously. there is no joint pain, no hesitation - each step is placed with pinpoint precision, each movement following the next.

a puppet's dance, you think; then dismiss the idea just as quickly. you're just here to obtain insurance from danger, not to humor thoughts like that.

she's lying back down on the bed when you arrive - exposing her back to you, vulnerable. but her hands are still outstretched, each one holding those crosses linked to the many strings pulled taut across, within, and around you. "welcome back", she tells you. "i trust it wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"no," you say, "it was fine."

"i'm glad to hear it!" she says, turning to smile at you. "and you took to it so well, too! good doll."

there's something about meeting her eyes as she says those last two words that feels different from everything prior. something deeper, like the strings are mycelial network growing their own nerves to entangle around yours, setting them alight in a microcosm dance, your whole body twitching just subtly as you are affixed within her gaze, burning up from the inside out-

"oh, my apologies. old habits die hard it would seem."

she doesn't gesture you to sit next to her, but your body does so, so you can assume it was her will all the same. she turns to you and explains that the demonstration has concluded; that the act of forming a pact with her is something you can now think of on your own, that you can return to her any time you need and in fact she'll completely understand if she never sees you again. she snips off the strings, one by one, with a pair of ornate scissors - the ones within will dissolve organically, she notes, metabolized by your own body. nothing to worry about.

you're not worrying. you're not thinking much at all, in the aftermath of everything that's happened. but she is patient, and you have all the time you need to recover.

-------

she walks you to the door and waves you out with a flourish. you're reminded of how mundane the house is, and now you can see that same mundanity in the Lady's face; no different from any number of passers-by through the town square.

"safe travels~!" she says, and you walk out the door; your steps faltering just a little as you once more acclimate to control over your own body.

well, for a contract patron, that wasn't so bad. and she seems well-meaning enough. maybe you'll go back there sometime again, you think to yourself, and shrug as you make your way home.

[thewritergx]

Simon Says: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: Sam, Dean, and Y/N  just back from an awful case. You fucked up big time and now Dean has to teach you how to listen.

Warnings: Smut, Pet Names (Baby, Slut, Bitch), Dom!Dean, Blood. Bodily injury, Oral (male-receiving), Breeding Kink, Spanking, Squirting, could be non-con if you squint.

Word Count: 4K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

A small gash bled across my face. Fucking Demons, I rolled my eyes. I was sitting in the backseat of the Impala, listening to Dean bitch about how I ‘can't put yourself in situations like that’. Imrolled my eyes again.

The three of us thought we were on a routine ghost hunt, only to find it was a group of high up demons terrorizing a quiet town in Texas. We knew who they were but not where they were staying or why they were here. Sam and I had come up with a great plan. I was going to seek out a demon at the bar, get him to take me back to his place. We were told by a few locals where they liked to hangout, drink as much as their vessels would allow. It was working out perfectly too. 

I sat down on a rickety old stool, ordered a vodka cranberry from the waitress. She was nice, dressed as a pinup girl doll. She wore cutoff shorts,  a flannel crop top tied in bow under her breast and a cowboy hat. I admired her body, the way her clothes fit her perfectly. 

A few seats down from me a tall man with a bread sat sipping a whiskey drink on rocks. I walked over, taking my drink. I could spot a demon easily. They always stood in public spaces, always looking like they were waiting, watching too closely. 

As I approached him, I  flashed a smile. 

“Hey, care for some company”. My hair covered an earpiece connected to Sam and Dean. I felt like an FBI agent wearing it. I also decided this was the perfect time to fuck with Dean. He was in a horrible mood the entire drive down and he hated the plan Sam and I created. 

The demon smiled. Whoever he was wearing took great care of his body. His arms were toned, nice curls in his hair. I couldn't complain. I dragged my care closer to him. “What's your name, big boy?” I sipped on my drink, trying to make it look like I was actually drinking while still staying level headed.

“Paul, what about you pretty girl?” The Demon in Paul’s body moved a strand of hair out of my face, brushing it behind my ear. 

“Sandra”, I lied. The Demon shook his head, Sandra lingering on his tongue as he repeated it out loud. “Pretty”, he stated.

I thanked him, nodding my head with pleasure. 

“You know, I could show you something really pretty if you want to get out of here”. I stood, holding my hand out to the Demon. 

“And what would that be? The Demon smiled. My plan was going so beautifully. 

I leaned into him, my mouth close to his ear and whispered “anything you’d like to see, daddy. I knew Dean would be pissed now. Calling another man daddy, even if it was part of a hunt, would light a fire so hot in him he might explode. 

The demon stood, taking my hand “dirty little girl, huh? Gonna let me do whatever I want?” He asked, his eyebrow raised a bit.

I nodded, walking him towards the exit. “My place is off limits. My needy boyfriend is there” I stated matter of factly. That would piss Dean off. Once outside the demon led me to his car. A nice Chevy Malibu in a light gray color. Dean would hate it, I laughed to myself. I felt the demon blade pressed against my leg, kept in a hollister by my ankle. 

I sat in the shotgun seat, putting on my seat belt. The demon gripped my thigh, his finger grazing slightly against my core. I didn't react. Although I was playing confident, I had no intention of actually doing anything with anyone other than Dean. We had been dating for about six months now, and the sex was the best thing I have ever experienced. 

Behind us, two bright headlights shine. I recognized the headlights of the Impala easily. Mostly because they were blinding, and Dean refused to drive without his brights on. I felt safe knowing the boys were only a few cars down from me.

In the Impala, Dean gripped the steering wheel. His teeth were grinding, his jaw clenched. Sam looked over laughing, “Dean, you gotta chill. She's just doing what we told her”.

“This was yall’s fuckin’ plan. I had no part in this shit, Sammy.” Dean's words came out like daggers, digging into anyone around him. 

After about fifteen minutes of driving, the demon turned onto a dirt road. It was dark and we drove until  we reached a run down house. The windows were boarded up and no one else was around for miles. I no longer saw the headlight behind me. I was starting to wonder if Dean had been right. 

In the ear, I heard Dean “Y/N, we're right behind you but can't see you right now. Say something so we know you're safe”. I felt relief at the sound of his voice.

“So, what do you have in mind?” I  mumbled. 

“Aw, getting shy now? Don’t worry, we’re gonna have such a fun night. Wont want to ever go back to that little boyfriend of yours.” The demon opened his side door and I followed, stepping on the muddy ground outside. The demon took my hand, walking me up the front steps of the house. It was pitch black inside before he turned on a single light. A couch sat in the living room with a pretty nice TV. It was probably the only real nice thing in the whole room. 

The demon led me inside, sitting me on the couch. It was dusty and I really didn't want to touch it. In another room I  heard clashing and a few mumbles. “Stay here for a second,” he said harshly as he walked to the door. When he opened it four more demons cameout, all looking in my direction.

“Brought us a treat?” One of them asked. His eyes were jet black.

“It’s getting really hot in here.” It was me code red phrase. One that the boys would recognized as dangerous. I stayed still, watching the demons approach me. 

In a few short seconds, the front door swung open. “Sorry to crash your little party,” Dean yelled across the room. The boys gripped shining white blades in their hands. Sam stabbed the closest demon next to me, sending him into flames. That was my chance to rise, pulling the hem of my  jeans up and grabbing the blade from my ankle. As I bent down a demon wearing a woman with long red hair, grabbed me and shoved me to the ground. I landed hard, scraping the side of my face. A small gash ran red blood down to my eye. Now I was pissed. I threw my knife as I pulled myself up, landing it hard in her stomach. 

I smiled. “That was so cool” I finally spoke out. Dean did crack a subtle smile at that. He wasn't soulless, that was good. The three of us were able to take down all the demons except one. We had questions we needed answered. 

“What are yall' doing here? Who Sent you?’ Sam yelled as he pressed the demon against the wall. 

“Wouldn't you and your pretty bitch like to know?” The demon smiled. “She was all over me by the way, might want to get that slut on a leash.” The demon hissed at me.

I laughed and saw Dean’s grip around the knife. “You shut the fuck up or I’m gonna make this real, real slow.” Dean shouted.

“Answer the question!” Sam spit. 

The demon laughed again, his eyes black as night. That was the last straw for Sammy, and he shoved the knife deep in his back.

“Sam, what the hell? We needed answers! Now we have nothing.” I scolded him.

“I’m sorry but I wasn't listening to that shit anymore.” Sam dropped the demon to the ground and picked up his blaze. 

The three of us walked out of the house. Both boys were fuming. “Get in. Now,” Dean demanded and opened the back door. Great, now I have to deal with silence and mean looks all the way home.

This was a few hours ago now. Sam had fallen asleep a bit ago and Dean played Led Zeppelin low on the speakers. We hadn't taken a single break from driving and my back was aching from sitting upright. I undid my seat belt and laid my back flat against the cold leather. I brought my knees up, bent in an upright position. 

“Get your shoes off my seat.” The first words Dean had spoken in an hour. I shot him a look in the mirror. Instead of doing what he asked, I dug my shoes in harder, pressing into the leather fabric. I heard Dean huff and mumble something under his breath. He shot me a look this time. "I'm serious y/n, you're gonna fuckin' get it when we get back home". I smiled at the thought and continued to ignore him. After a while longer, I closed my eyes, trying to find a quick rest.

I was woken in the morning by the trunk slamming hard. The sun finally rising through the widows. It took me a moment to remember the events of last night. I knew Dean would be exhausted from driving, probably more pissed now than he was during the hunt. He had all night to stew in his thoughts with no release. 

I closed my eyes again. I was exhausted, waking up every few minutes to a bump or dip in the road. The door to the back opened quietly and I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

“Come on, baby. I got ‘ya” Dean helped me out of the car and hosted my legs around his waist. He grabbed me just under my ass. I wrapped my arms around his neck lazily, giving him a small kiss as he carried mebthrough the bunker and into out shared room. He laid me lightly on the bed, taking off my shoes. I lazily raised my hips up as he slid down my jeans, leaving me in a thin pair of black panties. He grabbed me by my wrist, pulling the top half of my body off the bed. He grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head. Next, he unclipped my bra, leaving my chest exposed. 

“You know you’re in some deep shit, right y/n?” Dean stood above you, holding my chin in his hand and rubbing soft circles with his thumb. 

I swallowed hard. I knew he was playing too nice. “Dean I-” I started to speak but was cut off.

“Shh, no talkin’’. Not ‘til I say so. Gotta lotta makin’ up to do” Dean Pulled me into a rough kiss, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. His tongue was sloppy and strong, entering my mouth in rough circles. I gasped for air as he pulled away. He looked at me for a second, contemplating what he wanted first. After a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled me on top of him, laying me down flat with my ass in the air. I stayed quiet, waiting for whatever he had planned next. 

“You’ve been a very bad girl, and I think daddy needs to teach you a lesson, huh. You gonna let daddy teach you what happens when you don't act right?” His hand caressed my ass, grabbing at it hard. 

I nodded my head. Following his instructions. 

He brought his hand up in the air and swung it down hard. I was shocked he actually spanked me. Usually Dean is rough but he never hurt me. Usually his spanks stung slightly, but this time was different. He hit me so hard it was going to leave a bruise. I wondered how bad his hand stung from that. I let out a cry, trying not to make it too loud.

Dean laughed “Oh, baby. It's gonna be a long morning. I ain't leaving till I know you've learned better.” He slapped my ass harder and I jumped. “Stay fucking still. Don't make me get mean.” Dean's tone was strong. I had never heard his voice like that before. It hurt bad, but I loved it. I had always had a thing for pain, wanting it as rough as Dean could give me. 

I tried to stay as still as possible, but as the hits kept coming, it was getting harder and harder to stay still. I swear Dean was out for blood. My blood. Tears began to fall as he bruised my ass, leaving red stinging marks across each cheek. 

“Get up”, he spoke through gritted teeth. “I love you baby, but i’m about to fuck you like I hate you.” 

I felt a cold shiver down my spine as Dean forced me down on my knees, opening my mouth under him. He leaned down, spitting in my mouth with great precision. I swallow it, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. I wanted more. I moved my hand to his shorts, and he quickly slapped it away.

“Did I tell you, you could touch?” Dean asked, no hint of emotion other than anger on his face. If he was tired, I couldn't tell. If he was dying to be inside me, I couldn't tell. His eyes only showed red. “Put ‘em behind your back”.

I did as I was told, nodding my head and placing my hands behind me. Dean walked to the closet and searched for a moment. I waited patiently for him to get back. I saw a black tie in his hand. He walked behind me. Pinning my wrist together, he tied the tie so tight around them I couldn't move my hands if I wanted to. Dean walked back in my view, slowly stripping all his clothes. I admired his body, taking note of every scar, every tattoo. 

Once he was stripped completely, he stood tall directly in front of me. He pumped his cock a few times. “Open”. He demanded.

I opened my mouth slightly.

“Wider. Don’t play with me y/n or this will get a lot worse.” He grabbed the back of my neck. His grip was loose but stern. His cock was half hard, glistening with precum. Dean tapped it against my lips, moving it around the entrance of my mouth. After some teasing, he finally put the tip in my mouth. I closed my lips around him, sucking the tip with slight pressure. I felt him getting harder as the seconds passed. His grip on my neck stayed but became firmer. He used it to bob my head back and forth across his cock. Soon my eyes were watering and my face was slick with salvia. Dean went harder, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged and struggled to breathe but his grip was relentless. I felt like I might throw up at any second and I tried my hardest to push him off. Finally Dean, let me free. I choked and fought for air as he let me go. 

“Good little slut, takin’ me so good.”Dean only gave me a few seconds before he was wrapping my lips back around him. He tasted like sweat from the earlier fight. It wasn’t gross, just enough for me to taste under my spit. My jaw was starting to hurt. I knew Dean could go on like this forever. In our months of dating, I could never get him to cum just from sucking him off. Believe me, I have tried. After at least twenty more minutes of this, tears were streaming down my face. The back of my throat was for sure bruised. Dean looked like I had hardly done anything and I looked like I just ran a mile. 

Dean grabbed my waist and hoisted me up on my feet. He turned me around to face the wall and threw me on the bed. He laid me chest down, bending my knees and positioning my ass in the air. He massaged it lightly and ripped my panties down. His hands went up to my hips, putting me at the best possible angle. I felt him line himself up at my center, his dick entering me swiftly. I knew Dean didn't have time to put on a condom, which was our only form of birth control. 

“Dean, you didn't put on anything”

“Yeah, I think I'm just gonna make you a real slut. Cum in this pussy like I deserve to.” He gave me no time to prepare before he started thrusting into me at the fastest pace I had ever experienced. A slight burn went through my body as he hit my cervix over and over. I felt like I was being hit in the stomach.

“D-Dean, please. Slow down, please”. I cried out.

“It’s okay. I know you can take it. Be a good little slut and take daddy’s dick. I know you can. Know you've been cravin’ it for days. That's why I was in such a bad mood, needin’ this pussy to come make me happy again.” 

Dean never faltered his thrust. I was practically begging him to stop, but it felt so good I was glad he didn't. He grabbed my hip with one hand as he and began using the other to untie the tie around my wrist. I thought he was taking it off to give me more movement, let me touch him. But, instead of disregarding it, he placed it around my neck. He pulled it tight, making me raise my head off the mattress. He choked me hard and the room started to darken.

“D-daddy t-too much”. My words came out a slurred mess. He let go of the tie, finally throwing it over his shoulder. I swear I was high from him, creating a creamy white mess at the base of his cock. 

“Shit, you’re fucking creaming my cock baby. You came already?” Dean sounded proud, cocky. I nodded my head yes and Dean let out a groan. 

“Can’t wait to cum in this pussy. Been wanting to for a longtime. Thinking about puttin’ a baby in you, let everyone know this pussy belongs to me.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear. I swear I felt my cunt dripping now.

“It does Dean. I swear. It’s all yours. Take it.” I tried not to scream as he hit my g-spot over and over, just on the edge of cumming again.

He pulled out of me quickly causing a sad moan to escape from my lips. He flipped me on my back, brushing my hair out of my face. He planted soft kisses all over my body before climbing on top of me, placing my legs over his shoulder. I loved him like this. His skin hot, out of breath, wanting to destroy me. It is something I never saw in him before, a primal instinct awakened inside him. 

“I heard you call that demon daddy.” He slapped my face, not hard enough to leave any marks. Just enough for me to feel it. “Want to show you who your real daddy is, never let you forget”

A rush hit me again. My legs were shaking and I felt myself clenched down hard around him. Dean pulled his dick out, a thin splash of my cum squirting out. “Fuck, yes. Such a good little bitch. Squirt on daddy's cock. Make a fuckin’ mess on me.” His voice somehow sounded darker. I let out a high-pitched moan as I came, wetness pulling around my pussy. 

Dean thrusted back in, showered in my slick. He entered slower this time, giving me a bit of a break. Subtly, he quickened his pace again, matching his earlier rhythm. I knew Sammy was just down the hall and I tried to stay as quiet as possible. Dean rubbed small circles around my clit, snaking his arm through my legs. the extra motion added more, pushing me over the edge again.

“Daddy, Please. I can't take much more.” I knew my lips would be red and swollen when we were done. I would be feeling this for days. 

Dean let out a long groan and threw his head down on my neck. “Fuck, y/n. Never gonna get over how tight this pussy is. God, fuckin’ love it.”

Dean's thrusts started to get sloppy, his body getting heavier on top of me.

“Fuckin’ close baby. Gonna paint this pussy.” Dean sucked in extra air through his teeth. I felt him hit the back of me a few times, slowing before pulling out. He admired his cum spilling out of me, a thick white paste sitting between my folds. Dean used his index finger, scooping it up and placing it back inside me. He fingered me a while longer, till I was pushing his hand away and begging him to stop. 

Dean used his shirt from earlier to clean my core, whipping away any wetness left behind. He kissed up and down my neck, leaving a few light purple spots. “You okay, y/n? I’m sorry if that was too much, just needed you so bad.” 

I kissed him, gently sucking his bottom lip. “No, It was amazing. Gonna flirt with demons more often”.

He laughed “Please, don’t”.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 1

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

themes: yandere, dead dove, non con/dub con, angst, naive reader, second person pov, thriller, toxic relationships, canon divergent

masterlist • read on ao3

Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Goodbye

Ever since the days of your childhood, you could see things that weren’t otherwise visible to anyone else lurk in the dark or simply just linger around people like parasites.

At often times, these beings would parrot the person they were shadowing, somehow perfectly resembling their true selves in the form of a grotesque caricature.

You quickly learned that this ability for being able to perceive such creatures wasn’t the norm and as such, your parents quickly caught on. Your mother told you fairly early on into life that you had a gift and it skipped every other generation on her side, so if you truly desire a normal life… then to just simply ignore it.

It was surely difficult, though.

For a while, you tried to live your life as normally as you could. You went to a normal school, tried to have normal friends and did your best to bury the ability to see things that you perhaps had no business seeing as time went on.

However, your gift was scouted out relatively quickly in a nearby school for special people just like yourself. It called itself a jujutsu school and the one in your area was one of the smaller ones in the country, meaning that you were the only student in your entire year and the only remaining two third years were gone by your second year with no fresh enrolments.

And when the time came to graduate, you did so alone as the only student sorcerer in the school.

The campus to your school wasn’t as greatly funded as the other schools so it didn’t quite have accommodation so you couldn’t really live there. This was apparently common in less populated areas.

Despite this, it felt like a blessing to leave your small town everyday and to simply just explore on field trips with your teacher. She was relatively young, she could have been your older sister as far as ages went and she did her best to make you feel included as a person, sympathising with you that this is indeed a lonely route in life at times but it’s all for something so much bigger.

But that wasn’t the reason you felt so alone.

There was another problem that resided in your town and it wasn’t loneliness, nor was it the fact that the town itself was polluted with generational problems — there was the problem of your lifelong childhood bully who simply did not like you and as such, made your life a living hell from the moment you could understand words.

If she hadn’t been human, she could have made a good cursed spirit. There was something incredibly off about her, something so twisted and perfectly vile, reflected and validated by the cursed spirits that hovered around her.

The town itself was crawling with them too; the town hall, the local hospital, the two schools and even certain houses harboured at least the simple ones. They weren’t dangerous, but they were there and keeping them around wasn’t doing anyone any good either.

Had you cared just a little bit more, you would have done something about it, but this town wasn’t kind to you and you weren’t going to be nice to it either.

Was that petty?

It sounded perfectly fair to you, even if you didn’t admit it to anyone. Your teacher told you that you were studying and learning how to be a sorcerer to protect people, to create a balance in this world, so technically you should have been exorcising those things in your free time.

As sad as it sounded also, she was also your only friend by the time you had reached graduation, too. You graduated from that place with the intention of becoming something similar, hoping to be someone’s support in what was an unforgiving and isolating life.

She helped you with everything beyond that point too, wanting to help you leave this place and explore your potential. She handled the references and getting your name to the right people, but still, it was starkly silent and you remained dormant for just a couple years more than you should have been after finishing school.

You hoped to land something in the bigger cities though, so you never backed down from the beginning. You knew that the cursed spirits that resided those were often worse and more intelligent, that the people there were simply just more complex, but that was besides the point—you wanted to get away from home as fast as you could, as far as you could.

Living at home in the sticks with your parents that were distant to you ever since you convinced them to let you go to that alternative school in a town under the spiteful eye of someone who understood perfectly well that there was something about you… wasn’t that great of a deal.

Especially after what she did back then.

The night that she went too far.

So, one could only imagine your relief and maybe some shock, when out of all of the places that could have taken you in for a teaching position, it was for Tokyo.

Your eyes stared at the letter for the longest time when it happened. You thought it was a prank at first, but it all seemed perfectly legitimate. Apparently your former teacher was hard at work to help you out and as it turned out, teachers with support-centric techniques were surprisingly in demand.

The letter recommended to move after the summer term had ended to get yourself set up and established, especially if moving from a place so far away. The school budget paid the teachers a minimum monthly salary due to some type of sorcerers’ union, so even if you were out of work for the summer, getting by shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

All you had to do was make it past the first month on your savings.

You were determined to make it work.

The moment that it was all set up and confirmed, you didn’t even look back. You thanked your parents for letting you stay and for not being too against your life, ready to head out and begin anew.

It would be different this time after all, you didn’t have to be the person you were before.

You could begin anew.

***

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was admittedly a struggle with finding your bearings in such a crowded and bustling place. Your old school was nearby a city and you’d often go there for field trips, but it was nowhere near to this magnitude.

You were met at the train station by a jujutsu assistant. To your understanding, these were people who couldn’t quite make the cut as sorcerers but they were just as valuable with getting everything set up and done. Your old school had one too, but their job was simply to get you from your house and to the campus as well as the other way around.

This one on the other hand was absurdly helpful, their stature and tone laced with a certain type of professionalism that you didn’t think was possible; they not only drove you to the campus, but they also took their time to explain the layout, the facilities and even told you that you have a right to use the on-site accommodation over the summer if you didn’t quite having a living situation figured out just yet.

You didn’t, to their credit. You were about to live your first month out in a cheap hotel and hope for the best… so this was absolutely a step up in a better direction, at least as a temporary fix.

As such, you took that offer right away, not really thinking about it. It would make do for now, at least. You would be alone for the duration of it, but you didn’t quite care about that because you were already used to that to a degree.

Moving in as a result was easy enough; you chose the bedroom closest to the kitchen and bathroom, not bothering to explore the rest of the rooms because that’s all you needed.

You moved in a little earlier than the letter encouraged you to do so, but it was apparently fine to do so. As such, you were there right as the summer break had actually started so the existing teachers would be available to meet before they’d be excused for the holidays.

In a way, this thought mildly terrified you even if you were encouraged by the assistant to do so, to just get an idea of the types of people you’d be working with. You harboured some mild social anxiety from your isolated way of life and your main fear was coming across as strange in a way that was off-putting.

This was a high school so you fretted about it more than you should. What if your technique was lame? What if you came across as uninteresting? Did the teachers have cliques here or did they not care about such trivial matters?

Sorcerers were often weird themselves, so they were probably used to the latter.

Hopefully.

***

It took you a couple of days to get settled in and you took those moments to get used to the campus, mapping it out in your mind so that you could avoid getting lost wherever you had to be on your first day. The last thing you wanted to do was to mess up in front of your students, of course.

You also got used to using the nearby bus line that was close to the campus. The travel card itself was heavily discounted, just one of the many perks supposedly and you got used to small frequent trips to go and get groceries just as some strange form of exposure therapy.

Come Friday, or rather the final Friday, it was time to get to know who you would be working with. You being nervous was the understatement of the century. You always knew that you would end up at least somewhere to be a jujutsu teacher, but all of the big shots were in Tokyo and that’s who you would be working with.

The gathering point was in a standard staff lounge. The room itself was beige both in flooring and the surrounding walls had a few sofas stacked against them. There was otherwise a kitchenette further into the room with a coffee machine that apparently was labelled as defunct, despite the lingering smell of it going strong in the room.

The head of the school, Yaga as you had come to know him as, was the first person you met beyond that room. He didn’t let you say too much before he would lead you off to a group of people and throw you right in the middle of the conversation they were otherwise having.

As such, the anxiety began to fester.

You tried to keep your cool, though.

“These two,” he began to speak up as he pointed to a tall white-haired man and another with longer pulled back black hair, “will be your two official colleagues, you’ll be taking on the same students as a whole but you will be assigned individual cases based on your abilities.”

Both seemed to be around your age, which both comforted and unsettled you all at the same time

The white haired man was the first to interact with you as he drew out his hand to shake as you awkwardly scrambled to meet him halfway. His vibrant blue eyes were certainly unique, you thought.

“Pleased to meet you,” he spoke, his tone was playful and yet professional, “I’m Satoru Gojo, you can call me as you’d like.”

You have heard of that name before, at least the clan name. There were certain details that reached even your small school and you were aware of the major sorcerer clans at the very least.

“Suguru, Geto,” the black haired man added on, his handshake more curt and to the point.

A woman between the two of them cleared her throat, throwing a narrowly pointed stare at the principal and extended her hand to you as well. Yaga muttered something under his breath to her as he walked off, leaving you behind with three completely new people.

She had shoulder length brown hair and slight eye bags that occupied her face. She rolled up the sleeve to her white coat to comfortably shake your hand as well.

“I’m Shoko Ieri. Just call me Shoko, feel free to call these two by their first names too. They won’t mind, nor care,” she said as she introduced herself to you.

“I’m [name],” you nodded along as you introduced yourself, unsure what to really say beyond that point, “the new supportive techniques teacher, I suppose.”

“Ah, I heard we were getting someone new in that department,” Satoru said, his eyes scrolling up and down your body, leaving you feeling a little exposed.

“I’m the campus doctor so not really a teacher,” Shoko added along, “Satoru handles most of the students, Suguru helps train others with things like hand to hand combat and sword fighting.”

“Looks like we’ve finally got a solid facility,” Satoru smiled, throwing his arms around his two colleagues. You assumed that they were all good friends, something that you envied.

“So where are you from?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, I’m from a town further north in the country,” you replied, feeling just a little nervous for admitting it. You wondered if you should have just said you were from a city up north instead.

“How are you finding the big city?” Satoru almost teased, his teeth flashing through his playful grin.

“Exhausting,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes trailing onto the ground as you mulled over your answer, “but I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he smiled before going off to pay attention to his other friend, seemingly concluding that brief interaction with you.

Shoko stared at him for a moment as she did so before turning her sights back to you.

“Hey, so we’re going out for drinks, nothing too serious, maybe you should come along?” she asked, her tone was friendly but it didn’t seem fake.

You considered it as you looked at her for a moment. You weren’t really the drinking type as you simply never had the opportunity to do so; your parents never kept alcohol at home and you didn’t have the friends to go sneak off and get it elsewhere growing up.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour,” she spoke up again in a more lighthearted manner, noticing your hesitation, “it would be just me and these two otherwise.”

“I could,” you nodded along to it, after all. If you were going to be leaving your comfort zone, then you had to actually take a step out of it if the opportunity arose, which it did here.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling your hand along with her as she caught up to the other two, “if you’re going to be working with these two, you might as well get to know them.”

The two men didn’t say anything but they did make room to include you as they walked along beside you. You felt some discomfort as a result, as if you were a fourth wheel somehow intruding on a perfectly established dynamic.

You walked along in relative silence as you tried to keep up with some desperation as the streets quickly became more and more crowded. To your comfort, Shoko never once let go of your wrist and pushed through the masses with you in tow, telling you to just stare straight ahead because making eye contact with people only slows them down, to focus on that building right at the end of the road because that’s where you’re all going.

You listened to her words and took everything she said seriously as the bustle quickly got too overwhelming, finding that it surprisingly worked and as such, quickly found comfort in her company because she was the first person aside from your teacher to give you a chance.

You even sat next to her when you got to the bar as the two others went elsewhere, to get drinks from what it looked like.

“Shoko’s hogging the newbies again,” Satoru pouted as he came back with a few bottles of booze as his friend brought over even more, “always getting to know them before we do.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to get to know,” she replied as she poured herself a drink, pouring one for you right after, “besides you left immediately, what were you expecting?”

“For my grand charm to kick in and let the law of attraction do its work?” he laughed as he settled into his seat, seeming a little tired from what you could gather.

“So hopeless,” she replied as she took a swig from her glass, “you talk too much about yourself, and you don’t talk talk enough—someone has to be the middleman, right?”

“I do talk, though?” Suguru replied as he quietly poured himself a drink.

“You’ve said the least so far, to be fair,” Satoru piled on.

“The newbie isn’t talking much either,” he shrugged as he took a sip.

“That’s what the drinks are for,” Satoru smiled, “everyone’s talkative after a few.”

You suddenly felt as though it was now your queue to drink, but you didn’t really know what to expect from it but you tried your best and still managed to sour your face as you got into it, getting a couple of stifled laughs from the seats opposite.

“Take a big sip and then force it down,” Shoko said, “it gets easier as time goes by.”

You nodded as your cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment.

“So, you said you were from the north right? Just how far up north?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, a little too suddenly interested in you after seeing you couldn’t hold your drink.

“Just… far enough… I guess…” you replied, your eyes slowly drifting off to the table as you felt less and less enthusiastic about sharing where you were from.

“You don’t sound too happy about that place,” Suguru observed as he replied to you directly, “that bad?”

You nodded a little as you made brief eye contact with him, talking yourself into drinking more for the sake of getting out of your bubble.

“[name]?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, completely ignoring the conversation that was otherwise happening.

“Yes?” you asked, suddenly caught just a little off guard from the tone he used. It was somehow accusatory and you weren’t looking forward to whatever happened next.

“I mean this politely, but is this your first time drinking?” he continued to ask.

You gulped down your embarrassment and decided to just go along with it, after all. You knew that it would only look worse for you in the long run if you made a big deal out of such things.

“I-I didn’t really get the chance to do that back home,” you tried to reply, laughing a little at yourself and hoping for the best.

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine that there’s much else to do in a small town, especially one that you’re not too fond of,” he replied, talking a little louder as the alcohol settled in his body.

“I mostly just existed there, I guess,” you said in a tone that was a little too sombre, quickly surrendering to another sip of the liquid comfort. To your peripheral vision, Suguru seemed to paying just a little more attention to you now but you weren’t sure if you were simply just imagining things.

You watched with both comfort and unease as Shoko topped off the glass that you barely finished as the others were by now onto their third glasses and then imitated a gesture of how you’re supposed to drink with her hand, expecting you to follow.

You sighed as you did so, perhaps it was some right of passage that you simply had to follow along. The drink felt sharp in your throat somehow, more so than before. It did wake you up though and to your embarrassment, you felt just a little buzz after it had finally settled.

“Attagirl,” she cheered you on as she patted your back with some pride, “see, you need to pick your poison in a place like this, otherwise it’s gonna burn you out.”

“That why you drink so much and smoke a pack a day?” Satoru teased her, leaning over the table and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

“Hey,” she replied as she smacked his hand away, “you’re saying that like you’re not the cause for it.”

“I can’t possibly be that bad enough to give you both a drinking and smoking problem,” he said as he resigned back into his seat.

“Nah, she’s right,” Suguru agreed with Shoko.

“Really?” he asked in a fake exasperated tone, not seeming too surprised about the teasing.

“Are you actually surprised?” Shoko laughed as she topped you up once again.

They continued to laugh and joke with each other, finally relaxing within your company and you finally didn’t feel like such a fourth wheel even if you weren’t contributing much.

You finally also then took hold of your third drink and stared it down with such determination that Satoru even drummed his hands on the table as you were about to drink it. Shoko did the same and Suguru was the last to join.

When you finally downed it without making a face that time, you finally felt relaxed enough to smile and laugh with the rest of them as your milestone was finally met.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was finally getting better.

(But if only you knew.)

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Eddie Munson as tracks on The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift

Fortnight

Exhusband!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Tortured Poets Department

Friends to Lovers to Strangers with Eddie

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Toxic!Mean!Eddie x Reader

Down Bad

Protective!Mafia!Eddie x Reader

So Long, London

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader have spent lots of time in London during their relationship. Now that it’s ended she never wants to return.)

But Daddy I Love Him

Dad’s Best Friend!Eddie / Older!Eddie x Reader

Fresh Out The Slammer

Ex-Con!Eddie x Reader

Florida!!!

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader’s [now ex]boyfriend cheated on her, she went to Florida on vacation to forget about him. At a local bar she meets a certain rockstar touring the country with his band.)

Guilty As Sin?

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie broke up with you, yet you can’t stop thinking about him. Not even with another man in your bed.)

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader just made their relationship official and his fans can’t seem to keep their mouths shut. Haters online compare you to other women he’s been seen with, they make comments about your body and they don’t think you deserve Eddie.) (This description also fits for Delicate from Reputation.)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Mafia!Eddie x Catholic / Virgin / Good Girl / Shy! Reader

loml

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Situationship!Mean!Toxic!Eddie x Reader

The Alchemy

Hockey player!Eddie x Reader

Clara Bow

Rockstar!Eddie x Actress!Reader

(Reader always getting compared to other actresses, everyone wants her to be bigger and better than anyone before her. Eddie being the only one able to comfort her.)

The Black Dog

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

imgonnagetyouback

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Albatross

Virgin!Eddie x “Slut”!Reader

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie becoming addicted to drugs, reader trying to help him but giving up when he cheats on her.)

How Did It End?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(No one caring about how you’re doing, only asking about Eddie and asking what happened.)

So High School - my first fic ever!!

Best Friends to Lovers, Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader playing Kiss, Marry, Kill while high, Reader naming people when it’s Eddie’s turn, one of them being herself, leading her to ask “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?”)

I Hate It Here

Eddie x You

(Yes you. We all know you read to escape reality.)

thanK you aIMee

Eddie x Reader

(Based on the title, not the lyrics)

(Think All Of The Girls You Loved Before, Reader thanking one of Eddie’s exes for contributing to the amazing man he is now.)

I Look In People’s Windows

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Prophecy

Eddie x Reader

(Post Vecna…)

Cassandra

Toxic!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader watching Eddie’s show in the pit and getting sexually harassed / groped by some creep. Not wanting to interrupt the show or cause a scene, she keeps quiet. Anxiety and stress leading up to a breakdown, Eddie being high out of his mind asking if everything’s okay. You snap at him and tell him about the incident at his concert but he doesn’t believe you. The day after your breakdown, Eddie asks you what happened last night, after a quick recap of the events your petty boyfriend chooses not to believe you.)

Peter

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Similar to Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me. Eddie being ignorant and giving half assed advice like “Just ignore it”. He doesn’t show how much he cares due to his newfound love for drugs.)

The Bolter

Eddie x Reader

(Reader being afraid of relationships and attachment. Her trying to bolt from Eddie’s love but he doesn’t let her. Steve and Robin being supportive of Reader and Eddie’s relationship, they felt the need to tell him about her attachment style before it was too late.)

Robin

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

The Manuscript

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so please be nice !!!!

[justanofficeworker]

Man's best friend

TW: This Fic contains kidnapping, dub con, NSFW scenes, Stockholm syndrome among other things. Please do not read if these themes upset or disturb you. That being said welcome and enjoy the ride.

Chapter 1- The meeting

The harsh fluorescent lights of my local grocery store shone into my eyes as I struggled to reach the top shelf for the last item on my list. I groan as I fall back from the tips of my toes. ‘God whoever put the brown sugar on the top shelf is a fucking whore’ I think to myself rolling my eyes. ‘Ok, round two’ I reach up to the shelf again, my hand just barely grazing the bag before a large scared hand plucks the bag down and offers it to me. My eyes follow the hand, up a thick arm to an attractive scared face, it's bottom half covered by a black surgical mask with a white skull decal on the front. 

“Need a’lil help love?” the man's voice was warm like hot chocolate and just as smooth. “ holy, blond babe” involuntarily slips through my lips, I need to start thinking before I speak. “ well that's a new one” he chuckles, a sound I would pay a premium just to have in a bottle. "Geez, I'm sorry, that was creepy. Thanks for grabbing that for me" I rush out, taking the bag of brown sweetness in my hand. " Don't worry about it, I've been told my appearance is a bit shocking to most civilians, I'm Simon" he holds his hand out for a handshake. 'civilians, maybe he's ex-military?' I think as I shake his hand. It's as warm as his voice sounds and he grasps my hand gently, not like how most men squeeze your hand to intimidate you when you're a woman. "I'm Y/n, but most people just call me Beanie" The sentence all but falls out of my mouth, god I'm awkward.

Simon steps closer to me as another shopper passes through the aisle. "Beanie? A cute name fitted for a cute girl" his eyebrows quirk like he was smiling or maybe laughing at his own joke. 'holy shit this guy is huge' runs through my mind as he gets closer. Simon has a least a foot on me and is nearly twice as wide, hes like a brick house covered in a fluffy green cardigan. "hello? Earth to ms. Beanie. You still in there? or do you just like staring?" He waves a hand in front of my face and i let out a startled squeak.

"I'm so sorry, I just um ,have a lot on my mind" a good enough excuse if I've ever made one. Simon looks pensive " well, I've got to get home before my , dog, gets antsy. But how bout we talk more over coffee. maybe you can tell me a little of whats on your mind" he pulls out a pen and receipt from his pocket and jots his number on it. "text me some time" he winks as he turns to walk out the aisle. " Oh um yeah ok" i call out to him , dumb founded, a hot english guy just gave me his number after calling me cute. The world must be ending. I finish my shopping quickly and begin my walk home, unable to shake the sudden feeling of being watched.

SIMON POV

“Toothpaste,sorbet, lemons….” Simon’s thoughts trailed off as he looked catching a glimpse of what had to be the most pathetic looking woman he had ever seen. She was small and curvy and struggling. Muttering under her breath , probably about the sugar she couldn’t reach. Her braids bounced with his movements as she tried to reach the top shelf again. Simon had know her, before he could stop himself he was walking over and reaching for the sugar, brown like her glossy skin, and handing it to her. He had asked if she needed help and in her surprise called him a ‘blond babe’. She was shy , like a mouse , in their short interaction she seemed to just loose focus and float off. A girl like her shouldn’t be by herself, she should be at home being coddled and cozy. At least according to Simon.

He had to know more, so he gave her his number, he knew she eventually reach out and then they’d have their girl. He excused himself and then waited. Soon enough she was exiting the store and walking , presumably, to her home. As he watched he called Johnny. “Soap, i’ve found a bird for us” he said into his earbud as he took a picture to sent to his partner. As the photo was received johnny groaned. “She’s a pretty one, looks sweet” came johnny’s voice.

“When?” Johnny barked impatiently

“Soon” Simon scolded as he got into his car and drove off

————————————————————————------------------------

The sound of the car door alerted Johnny to Simon’s return. Soon enough heavy footsteps sounded up the porch. Johnny opened the door for his partner, eager to know more about their new girl. Crowding Simon in the entryway and throwing questions left and right. Whats her name, when will she be ours , what does she smell like? The inquires dying in his throat as Simon curls a warm hand around it. “ patience johnny shes a skittish one. Quiet and easily distracted too. We don’t want to scare her , do we?” Johnny gave a whine and nodded “I’m going to take her out , wine and dine her and when the time comes bring her home. You will not interfere. Copy?” Simon pulled Johnny in close by the throat, towering over him. “ yes sir” johnny whined, his hips twitching against Simon’s leg. Johnny had always been impatient and impulsive, but now with the prospect of you all training went right out the window.

"Good lad, now kneel for me love" Johnny easily slides to the floor, his head bowed and lent against Simon thigh. Johnny was docile when he wanted something and in this case it was information. Slowly, johnny unzips Simon's fly, " tell me a bout our bird Simon, whats she like?" Johnny, voice sultry and sweet, is allowed to pull Simon from his pants.

" Eager are we puppy?" Simon hisses as Johnny kisses his leaking tip. "shes a golden goddess of a women, small and demure, she was shy when i approached her but" he pauses as Johnny's warm mouth engulfs his member. "i can see it , shes got a mean streak, was cursin' up a storm before she noticed me." Simon sighs as johnny takes him to the base. "Easy pet, wouldn't want to" Simon is interrupted by a high pitched *ping*.

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

" I'm home" you yelled into your empty apartment. You lived alone but had read somewhere that announcing your arrival and departures could help stave off the effects of depression. And god did you need a break from those effects. You'd been alone since you had kicked out your then boyfriend of 3 years after finding him in bed with your now ex best friend. "it's not what it looks like' he had said as you started grabbing all traces of him and throwing them out the nearest window, you friend's clothes included. You'd kicked them both out with nothing but the sheet off your bed and said good riddance. 'maybe i should get a cat" You mused as you unloaded your groceries. Your thoughts suddenly swerving to the huge blond you'd met, the number he had slipped you now burning a hole in your pocket.

Maybe you'd text him , be real suave and ask him out or something.

Beanie: Hey it's Beanie from the grocery store you helped me wit the sugar :)

Typing....

typing...

' He must be typing a letter or something, you think as you lean against your cabinet. Setting your phone down you leave the kitchen take a well deserved bath. As you turn the tap you hear a distant *ping*. You may or may not have run out of the bathroom and tripped trying to get to your phone faster.

Simon: Yeah Beanie

Simon: I remember you , the pretty bird buying sugar

You can feel your face heating at the compliment, already imagining his smooth as warm butter voice. You were having some inappropriate feelings about a stranger and you needed to *ping*. Another text.

Simon: so about that coffee love?

[ahhhwomen]

Not A Toy?

Trigger Happy AU

Part 3

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Ik ik, everything has been written in very excruciating detail so far, this one being no exception, but I promise I'm going to up the speed and intensity very soon. Also, I am sorry if this one is a bit rushed, I just wanted to get it out there. Def not my favorite chapter...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language; all mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, Mommy kink, smut, pet play, death (not main characters), framed murder, violence, drugging, angst, obsession, dub-con/rape-con | Minors DNI 18+

Warnings Part 3: Mommy kink, stalker Wanda, kidnapping (?), slightly stupid reader

Summary: Maybe you are more to Wanda than just a Toy.

Word Count: 1157

Your apartment had never been the best. When you moved in, months prior, that much became apparent. It was filthy, small, and there were large gaps between some of the floorboards. However, money was tight after you were cut off from your family, and the neighborhood wasn’t the worst. So, you took what you could.

You had lived there for all of 2 weeks before you got a roommate. In those 2 weeks, you tried to make it more pleasant and feel more like home. You got a carpet to hide the large gaps, you moved the furniture to make it feel like more space, and you deep cleaned.

As you came to learn, Jessica didn’t care much for that sort of stuff. Between college, working a part-time job, having a boyfriend, and loving parties, Jessica was barely even there. She had never bothered to do much around the apartment, she never cleaned, and never took any interest in changing things around.

It's therefore safe to say you are a bit confused as you take in the scene in front of you.

Why is your coach upside down?

You have no clue how you didn’t see it until now. It wasn’t like you, you had always praised yourself on your observation skills.

That damn policewoman was doing a number on you.

You are just about to pull your phone out when you hear a creak, another issue with the floorboards. The sound came from Jessica's room.

Your apartment has felt off ever since you came home, but now it feels like you are somewhere else entirely. Suddenly everything was colder, and your skin prickles with chills.

Your feet slowly inch closer to Jessica's door, trying to stay silent, and your hands push gently on the handle. Sweat runs down your back and you hold your breath, the tension is heavy in the air. With the handle down, you being to put a slight weight into the door. The door creaks open to reveal….

Nothing.

Your eyes scan the room, everything the same as when you left this morning. You let out a shaky breath, relieved, you close the door again.  

You remind yourself to send a quick text to your roommate about the furniture rearrangement before you walk back to the bathroom.

///////

Wanda bites back a groan as the door presses lightly against her. She can hear your hands shaking against the handle.

She had meant to get out before you came home, but you turn out to be a fast walker.

After her work was done for the day Wanda had spent a substantial amount of time tracking this roommate of yours. She was a busy girl. She worked at a local diner most of the week but had Mondays and Wednesdays off. She hung out with her boyfriend, that lived 2 blocks away, almost every day. She took a liking to people, always having to be around someone. She seemed to be your complete opposite.

By what intel Wanda gathered, you were a quiet girl, who liked to keep to yourself. You were sweet and always willing to help, but large groups of people made you uncomfortable.

You were perfect. Well-mannered, sweet, lonely. A good girl.

Hers.

Wanda is good at hiding her less savory side. Obsessive behavior never looked good on paper. She had only ever allowed herself to indulge in smaller doses. However, Wanda couldn’t just fuck this urge out with a random pretty girl she picked up like she was used to.

No.

Wanda needed you.

She needs to have you, nurse you, fuck you. She needs to hold you, have you wrapped around her like the little kitten you are. Hers, and only hers.

She just needed to push you a little.

So, she did what anyone would do, and began staging her crime scene.

Your apartment wasn’t exactly big, so how would a big fight play out in such a small space? Wanda was testing your living room when she heard your keys jingle in the hallway.

“I’m home!”

Wanda smiled a little.

You must have been so sleepy. There was a little crack in the door Wanda could look at you through, and you walked right passed the flipped coach and started getting your dinner ready. Wanda had to hold back a disapproving sigh as you picked up a microwavable dinner.

You were a growing girl who requires proper sustenance. Not, whatever was in those plastic tubs.

As the timer on the microwave counted down, you looked lost in thought. Wanda wondered what you were thinking about as your teeth sank into your lip, your scrunched-up nose indicating you were worried. Wanda's hands griped the door, if something was bothering her girl, it bothered Wanda.

Luckily you snapped out of it rather fast and got to eating.

You occur to be quite the messy eater. It was adorable the way you would huff in annoyance as the table became smothered in your mess.

Wanda made a mental note to always feed you on a mat. She didn’t want her floors to be stained like your table was.

You stood up.

Wanda couldn’t get a proper view of the bathroom from where she stood. She had intended on moving just a little bit to the left when her foot hit a loose tile.

Shit!

Wanda could hear you try to sneak over to the door, and she saw the handle slowly move downwards. If she made even the tiniest of noises Wanda knew the gig would be over. She pressed herself into the wall and held her breath.

You paused for a second when the door was almost all the way open. Wanda could hear you sigh. Then close the door again.

You make your way back to the bathroom.

Wanda stands there baffled for a second before sneaking out when she picks up the water running.

Who doesn’t open the door all the way when they think an intruder is in the house?

You just have to be happy it was only Wanda.

///////

“SOMEONE PLEASE!” The filth sobs as her voice echoes back to her.

Wanda smirks.

Don’t worry, it will all be over very soon.

[shhh-secret-time]

hello ^^, i saw your secret soulmate au about craig, i don't have the words to explain how much i giggled, twirled my hair and everything XD! well, when you have the time, could you do a craig x clyde x reader smut? of course, if you feel comfortable with it! reader can be female or gn. it's practically normal smut but just craig fucking the reader from behind and clyde from the front, so that's it! tysm for reading, i love your writing too! <33 -✨️ Anon (I'm still new to tumblr so i might get confused on some things sometimes!)

Completely understandable, I too am confused with how tumblr works and I've been on this godless site since fucking Dash Con. I'm glad you liked the way I wrote those dorks! And thank you for fueling my Clyde agenda!

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Sub/Dom dynamics, blow jobs, orgasm denial, threesome

Pairing: Clyde x Fem!Reader x Craig

The sweet air of the votives swirls around the empty church. Empty except for the dim orange and red light that illuminates the book in the man's hand.

A woman at his feet, clothed in fine silks. A mix of reds and whites that twine together. Beautiful patterns of stars flow across the dress.

She dips her head in prayer alongside the man. The father of the church glides his fingers across her cheek as her mouth closes. Reciting scriptures of one's devotion for an unseen God. Everything in that moment was peaceful.

The warmth in the Father's eyes doesn't go unnoticed, the greens darken with a desire that he knows better than to have. It's difficult to hide the growing ache in his pants. More so when the woman's lips curl into a mischief smile, the warm glow of the candles makes them shine with an otherworldly glow. She looks up at him and her eyes fall deep into those pools of lust. Her hands break apart from that folded prayer and onto his black dress pants. They card up further against his thighs where they settle and clutch the material.

"Father, bless me...", a whisper that makes the Father groan.

Temptation never looked so sweet. This woman made his chest pound. Unholy thoughts flood his mind and go straight to his-

You let out a loud groan. Your forehead drops and hits the table beside your keyboard. The forgotten mug with now cold tea rattles.

Writer’s block, the very bane of any author’s existence. It's been haunting you for weeks now, making it impossible to get anything done. You've been stuck on this part of your romance novel the entire time. A part you were so excited to get to!

The buildup was perfect! You had calculated, plotted, and carefully crafted a budding romance between a witch and a holy man. A forbidden romance that took place within the walls of the church, the furthest outside the walls it went were the gardens that surrounded the area. The two fell in love after he saved her from the townsfolk claiming sanctuary.

Inspiration struck you like lightning after you fell in love with your partners. After publishing a sci-fi series, that honestly changed the name of how science fiction would be written forever, you met two fans at a book signing event. You had made a surprise appearance at a local library in some little town called South Park. Coming from the big city yourself, it was a huge surprise that anyone in the little town would actually be a fan of yours.

Apparently, you had quite a few. A man with bright red hair who had a black-haired man following alongside him. Both gushed about how the story inspired some kind of board game they played with their friends. A sweet blond woman who had the cutest southern accent you've ever heard. She gave you a piece of fan mail that had the most adorable sticker on it. Another black-haired man who dressed as Spock for some reason. He went on for a solid thirty minutes about a fanfic he wrote regarding the main character of your book and Star Trek's very own Captain Kirk.

Finally came the oddest duo you had ever met. The two were like day and night, a cat and a dog, fire and ice; the whole nine yards. A bright smile with baby brown eyes on one, and an ice-cold deadpan look with amber eyes to match on the other. At first you thought the brown-haired one was your fan and the man with the blue hat was just along for the ride.

"Haha! No way! I'm not into that..." He paused as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, "...kinda stuff."

"That kind of stuff?" You repeat back at him, raising a brow.

"He means reading. He doesn't know how." The other spoke putting a hand on top of his head. With a little push he forced the brown-haired man's head down.

You giggled at that. The protests coming from the poor man was comical. You almost felt sorry for him, watching him struggle to move the taller man's hand off.

"Then I take it I'm signing this book out to you?" With a click of your pen, you look up at him.

The NASA jacket on the bright blue sleeves of his jacket should have given it away honestly. There's was a small tinge of a blush on his tan cheeks, almost hidden under the skin tone but you were able to make it out under the light. He looked away for a moment before nodding at you.

"Yeah."

"Name?"

"His name is Craig! He's a huge fan of yours by the way! So, if you could write something sweet for him that'd be awesome!" His friend chirped at you as he broke free from Craig's grip.

Craig's face twisted, those piercing eyes of his narrowed down. Before he could reach and grab him, the brown-haired man slid behind your chair. Putting his hand on your chair, he bent down to your level and tapped the blank white page.

"As you can see my big guy has a baaaaaad case of resting bitch face."

"Clyde..." the warning that slipped out of Craig's mouth made a shiver roll down your spine. It was even directed at you, and you felt threatened.

"So, you gotta imagine my surprise when he came home smiling! I was shocked! He didn't even smile when we started going out!" Clyde ignored him, an attest to his bravery. Or foolishness. Either way he continued, leaning down next to your ear. "Your book made him so happy, so it makes me happy. Think you could do that for me? Because he'll never ask you to do it for him."

You look up at him for a while, not even bothered that he had gotten closer to your face as he spoke. The browns in his eyes flickered with mischief but there were layers of love behind them. Chocolate that seemed to melt into tiny hearts when he spoke about Craig. It was honestly sweet, even if he was trying to tease his partner.

"How can I say no to that? I'd love to." You smiled at him and began writing on the empty page.

Yeah, who would have thought that fate would tie you to those two like that. Falling in love with Craig and Clyde was nothing like what they wrote in books or movies. It was a tornado of events that landed you in the eye of it all.

Despite their polar opposite personalities and looks, the two worked off each other well. Then when you got thrown in the middle, you filled in a little spot they desperately needed.

Clyde was social enough for the three of you. He was the one who reminded you and Craig that you needed to get out of the house. When you lock yourself away in your office, he would drag you out with a fun date idea. Movie nights, football games, arcade dates, and his favorite late-night walks. Doing the same to Craig who always seemed buried in work.

Craig gave off such scary dog privilege that you and Clyde never felt threatened. You could take those late-night walks with Clyde because you knew nothing would touch you with Craig following close behind.

That was nice sure, but under that scary looking shell was a soft teddy bear of a man. While he wasn't vocal with affection like Clyde, he was observant. Craig remembered everything, everything about you and Clyde's interests. If he saw something you mentioned in passing it was yours. Clyde needed new shoelaces because the ones on his favorite pair of red shoes were tearing? There was a new pack waiting for him on the table. You complained about the shift key on your keyboard sticking too much? An adorable keyboard that looked like a typewriter was found on your desk the next morning.

Then there was you. You have no idea how these two survived this long without you. Truth be told they don't either. Craig and Clyde couldn't cook to save their lives. Their diet consisted of diner food and Chinese takeout. While their house was clean enough, laundry was never put away or folded. Clyde was horrible at putting his dirty laundry in the bin and Craig was too tired most nights to even make it to bed. The final straw was when you took a shower, and their only soap was 3 in 1.

Absolutely not.

So, when you moved in things changed. When Craig was at work, you would take Clyde grocery shopping. Slowly you started him on simple dishes, working with him until he was comfortable in the kitchen. What was surprising was that he took to it quickly. He was a natural and before you knew it, he was cooking things you had never heard of. He had gone as far as looking up Peruvian dishes, practicing with spices and techniques that had your mouth watering. When you asked how he learned to do all of this, he gave you the biggest grin and told you it was YouTube.

When Craig came home that night to Chupe de Camarones it was the closest to crying you've ever seen from him.

Clyde really stepped up after that, feeling a sense of pride in taking care of you two. Seeing as you worked just as hard as Craig did. Clyde proclaimed something about being more than happy to be a malewife.

In return Craig started taking better care of himself, actually starting to care about his health. He stopped staying up so late and made use of the giant bed. Clean sheets and blankets that felt good on his skin. Even better that you and Clyde would be in it waiting for him. Clyde long passed out on your chest, a bit of drool sliding down the side of his face and onto your shirt. Not that you seemed to care as you just continued to read next to the little bedside lamp. Only pausing when you felt Craig's presence in the doorway.

Craig's smiles were rare, little treats from the universe to you. Ones like these where he smiles with love in his eyes. Where he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers, crawling into bed next to you. Arms wrapping around Clyde and with a hand settling on your hips. A silent squeeze lets you know it's time to put the book down and join him.

How can you say no to a smile like that?

Of course, not every day was perfect. Your relationship took time to hash out. It was different being with two individuals at the same time, but you made it work. The three of you were committed to one another.

Now if only you could commit to this fucking scene.

Your head’s little meet and greet with the table must have been louder than you thought because whatever Clyde was yelling about in the living room stopped. It was one of the rare weekends where Craig was home and off work. Choosing to spend it watching some show with Clyde, listening to the man ramble on about something.

So wrapped up in your thoughts, you let out a scream when you finally lift your head and Clyde is right there beside you. His body bent over just like the day you met him. With his hand on the back of your chair and his face next to yours. Except instead of using, you as a shield from Craig, he's reading your computer screen.

While he doesn't understand what it takes to be an author, he sees the effect it has on you. Days like this where you take on the posture of a shrimp, forgetting to come out to eat.

His lips start pursed, but as he continues to scan over the screen they break out into a smirk. He covers his mouth in a fake surprise, a gasp with widened eyes.

"Babe! This is...scandalous! Spicy, naughty even! What are you doing writing something like this?" His dramatic act continues, forming some feign surprise.

"What are you doing using words with more than one syllable?" You shoot back with a little smirk.

It takes everything in your power not to laugh at the actual pout on his face. Try as you might, the giggles escape your lips, and it makes him smirk. He leans down and nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Maybe you're starting to rub off on me babe! I'm getting smarterer with you around!" You know he said that word wrong on purpose, just to get under your skin.

But he kisses you quiet before you can say anything. Holds your face in his hands so you can't pull away. You can taste the cherry chapstick on his lips, and the growing smile along with it.

"So, what's got you bashing your head into your desk baby? Craig and I heard a thump and got worried." He moves the kisses towards your forehead.

"Was it that loud?"

"Heard it over the tv." Craig's voice almost makes you leap out of your skin.

You bite your lip, looking down at the keyboard with a distant stare. The faded green and blue, spots where your fingers had smudged away the paint from typing so much.

"I'm just having trouble with this scene. I've been stuck on it for weeks now." You exhale softly.

Craig raises a brow and leans down on the other side of you. Both Clyde and Craig bent over to take a look at your screen. You're not sure why the fact both men reading your unfinished work makes you feel nervous, but it does. Or maybe it's the fact this is your first time writing a spicy scene like this.

"It's good. Never would have thought you'd go the Priest kink route." Craig says it so matter of fact, there's never hesitation in his voice. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him flustered, and even then, his tone is flat.

"I-I’m not into it! I just- you guys are only reading a snippet of my book! There's been a romance blossoming between the two the whole time!" You try to defend yourself, but it only makes Clyde's lips tug into a smirk.

The temptation to tease you was too great, it was being handed to him on a silver platter. Clyde leans up and walks next to Craig, leaning into his chest. The man wraps his arms around himself and lets out a dramatic sigh.

"A forbidden love! A tale as old as time! But what I wanna know babe-" Clyde stops and lets the tension build. It makes you glare at him as you turn in your office chair. "-is why the witch's descriptions are reaaaally close to mine."

"That's a woman Clyde! She's got short brown hair because it was cut off when she was running from the townsfolk! Brown eyes are common and beautiful! There's not enough representation for them!"

"Aaaaaand her dimples?" He points to his, the little spots in his cheeks that sink in when he smiles. "Plus, my eyes are totally beautiful."

"It's not you!"

"Oh, and the Father isn't Craig. Tan skin, black hair? You gave the Father green eyes but other than that, it fits Craig to a T." Craig actually nods along with what Clyde is saying. He's got his eyes closed as if this is some kind of philosophical debate.

"Are you serious right now Clyde?! This is why you two aren't allowed in my study!" Your face was burning now, hot and flushed from his teasing.

"What did I do?" Craig breaks the little fight with a simple question.

"Nodding your head along! You know what he's doing and you're encouraging it!"

"So, you took inspiration from your partners in your romance story. It's cute." He responds with a shrug. He looks down at Clyde who's still smugly leaning against his chest.

Your mouth falls open, you go to respond but nothing makes its way out. Your brows furrow. Arms crossed under your chest in a pout.

Had you unintentionally based your characters off your partners? Is that why the romance novel was easy to write up until this point?

Whatever the case may be here, you didn't like being called out. So, you do what you always do when they get like this, you turn in your chair and ignore them.

Usually this works, let's them know that you're not in the mood for their games. That you'd rather be left alone than entertain another minute of their shenanigans. But this time Clyde wasn't going to let you go. He grabs the back of your seat and wheels you back towards him and Craig.

"Baaaaabe don't pout. Look I'm sorry~." No, he's not. "But hey I've got an idea."

You let out a little huff, enough to where he knows you're not actually mad at him. If you were you would have picked your chair up and walked it back to your desk. Instead, you sit there and wait for him to continue.

"You're stuck on that scene, but I think you need a break. Sitting here and bashing your head against the table isn't going to fix that. Soooo..." He trails off, moving to stand in front of you.

His fingers glide across the side of your face, cupping your cheek so gently. Clyde guides your face up to look at him, behind that cocky smile of his he's got such love for you in his eyes. The way his thumb brushes across your cheek, making your heart flutter so slightly.

"What do you say Craig and I help you out a little babe?" Clyde guides your face up towards him. He presses his thumb against your lips just as his voice dips into that playful whisper.

You raise a brow at him in response. It's not until Craig puts his hand on your shoulders, that you piece together this wasn't just his idea. Thumbs pressed into your muscles working out the knots and tension. For such a hard worker, somehow Craig's hands always stay so soft. The worn-out oversized t-shirt you stole does little against his hands. The material is thin from how often it's been washed and worn.

His hands pull a soft moan from you, it feels too good to keep yourself silent. Clyde pushes his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, the digit presses down on your soft pink tongue. He all but purrs when watches you wrap your lips around it.

"See...let's work out some of that tension. We'll make you feel real good and give you a little inspiration." Clyde hums as he pulls his thumb out, smearing the saliva across your lips.

When he doesn't continue, you realize he's waiting for your confirmation. Waiting for you to agree to their little plan. But that doesn't stop Craig from bending down and placing a kiss on your cheek. He trails the kisses down to your jawline, using his nose to nudge your head to the side. Lulling your head to the side, you gave into the feeling. Craig's lips move to capture the exposed skin. You can feel just how eager he is from the way the kisses turn to nips then to full on bites. His teeth sinking into the soft parts of your flesh pulling another sharp gasp from you.

"Come on honey. Let us take care of you." After he's done leaving small love bites on your neck, Craig moves to your ear nipping the shell.

"Y-yeah that sounds...that sounds good." You move your hands up towards Craig, running your fingers through his hair. One of the rare moments he's not sporting his blue hat. "I could use a little break..."

"That's our girl." Clyde's praise goes straight to your core. He lifts you up from your office chair, hands cupping the back of your thighs for support. They give your thighs a little squeeze, digging his fingertips into your flesh.

Craig moves out of his way and goes to push your office chair back towards your desk. Clyde chuckles softly seeing the confused look on your face. Instead of protesting you wrap your arms around the brunette lazily throwing your arms around his neck.

"We're supposed to be relaxing, we're gonna get nice and comfy on the couch." He drops you down on the couch, making you bounce a bit. He laughs when you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You ass." Your grumbles fall on deaf ears. Clyde just runs his fingers through your hair and gives it a harsh tug. It makes you cry out, craning your neck up towards him.

"Sweetheart, that's not very nice. You're being a brat right now." He tuts, feigning disappointment.

"You dropped me on the-" You suck in another cry when he tugs your head to the side, that firm grip on your roots sending a shiver down your spine.

"Hm? You were saying something? I did what?"

Clyde's smug little smirk made your blood boil. But his fingers in your hair felt too good to protest further. Especially when he switched between tugging and massaging his fingertips into your scalp. You watched his eyes flicker from yours to behind you. Before you could turn around to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, Craig's hands slid down your back.

Gently, much more than Clyde, he pushes you down towards Clyde. His other hand comes down to grab your ankle, pulling your leg back towards him. Once your knee is tucked against the couch, he does the same to the other leg.

If your face wasn't burning up before it certainly is now. Just as you go to hold yourself up with your hands, Clyde removes his hand from your hair and takes you by the wrist. Guiding you up towards him, he places them on the hems of his sweatpants. The grey university sweatpants do little to hide his hardening cock, you watch it twitch against the fabric.

"This is about where you left off right? She was about to take the Father's cock out of his pants?" Clyde says watching as you slowly pull his sweatpants down. He lets out a low chuckle that turns into a moan when you slip your fingers around his cock. "That's it, now keep your eyes on me baby."

There's a moment of hesitation as you bring the tip closer to your mouth. The bright red tip glides across your plump lips begging for you to open. His hand returns to your hair, smoothing down your locks from his earlier manhandling.

The gentle touch makes you look up towards him, just like he requested. There really was something so intimate about those chocolate brown eyes of his. Past that smirk and layers of darkened lust, there was devotion. The feeling of your hands on him alone made him weak in the knees. You put that to the test, pressing just a little kiss on the tip. Dabbing your tongue against his leaking member. Just from that alone he's letting out the prettiest moans.

"Sh-shit, c’mon don't tease me." That cocky attitude of his melts. You almost laugh at how easy it is to break him down. He was puddy in your hands.

With a little hum you move your hand up and down his shaft, creating enough friction to make him buck his hips towards you. He nudges his cock further into your mouth, pushing past your lips. The underside of his cock glides down against your tongue, smearing the pre-cum along with it.

So caught up in your little game, you almost forgot about Craig behind you. Almost. It's hard to forget him when he's got his hands all over you. Large palms cupping any exposed skin. Craig takes his time exploring every curve he can get ahold of. His nose nuzzled into the back of your head. His breath tickling the shell of your ear. Just the sight of your mouth around Clyde's member alone is enough to make him growl.

Neither men are patient when it comes to you. Craig shoves whatever is left of your pajamas down and off you, he doesn't bother with your shirt as it'll pull you away from your lover. Instead, he decides it'll make the perfect handle. He bunches it up until it collects at the collar. His hands grip the shirt and tug it backwards, making your hips rock back into him.

Somewhere along the way he stripped away his pants. The barrier between the both of you was the thin material of your underwear and his dark blue boxers. While Craig wasn't as vocal as Clyde was, with his teasing and little whimpers, he could be just as unfair if not more.

Grinding against your cunt slowly, grabbing and groping at your ass the entire time. He digs his nails into your skin, leaving little crescent moons. Craig rewards good behavior not with sweet words, but by giving you what you so desperately want.

He waits until you've got all of Clyde's cock in your mouth before he finally shoves your underwear down. It makes it to your knees before he just decides to leave them there. Too many times he got impatient and just ripped them off, and too many times you scolded him for it.

The hand in your hair pulls you back from his cock. Clyde moves your head back just enough to where only the tip remains, then slowly he brings you back down. Pushing you all the way down his length until your nose hits his stomach. You watch as his muscles flex under his skin like he's trying to resist letting his head lull back. He needs so badly to keep his eyes on yours, loving the attention you're giving him.

"Your mouth feels so good." He whines when he reaches the back of your throat. You gag around him, and it pulls another whimper from him.

Your hand slides down his thighs, using it to hold you up. The other hand is still being held by Clyde's grip. His hand wrapped around your wrist, holding it up near his shoulder. Craig waits until Clyde rocks you back again, using the momentum to slip inside your wet folds. A pleased hum rumbles from his chest. You can feel it from how he's pressing his entire body against yours.

Just as slowly as Clyde moves your head, Craig pushes further into your cunt. The two find a slow and steady rhythm with one another. When Craig snaps his hips against you, it pushes Clyde's cock further down your throat. Your moans vibrating around him causing him to moan loudly in return. Clyde's whimpers and whines get louder when you dig your nails into his thighs. In return the grip on your hair is tightened. Creating this delicious cycle of pleasure.

"Baby, please. I wanna fuck your throat. You gonna let me? I need it so bad, please." Clyde's begging spurs something in you. Gives you the feeling of control even if you’re physically stuck between the two. From the beads of sweat that trail down his body and the way his body is shaking, you know he's at his limit.

You're able to pull back just enough, his cock springs up with a little bounce. Craig slows down just enough to let you talk, but you can tell he's not happy about it. The way his grip on your shirt tightens, you're sure he'll rip it soon.

"If I snap my fingers, you stop, okay?" You say giving him the okay. He caresses your face and presses a kiss onto your face, letting you know he understands the boundaries you've set.

At first, he's careful when he pushes his cock back into your mouth. You reward him with a swirl of your tongue, rubbing against the veins that are popping out.

"He's so needy." Craig huffs as he leans back up. The assault on your neck stops, but he's left it covered in bright red and purple marks. No amount of makeup will cover up what he's done.

You don't need to see him to know that he's smirking at it. Taking pride in the fact that he's marked you up. Or the pride making Clyde blush from his comment.  Craig's hips snap back into you, the force much sharper than his previous lazy thrusts. They're calculated, each time he pushes deep inside you he hits that spot that has you seeing stars. Clyde's hips take up the same pace, shoving his cock into the back of your throat.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. Moans turn to muffled cries, yet everything feels too good to stop. They're rough paced fucking brings your mind to a haze. All you can focus on is feeling good and making them feel good.

Craig's close, you can tell from the way he starts to lose rhythm. He's having a harder time controlling those grunts and growls. A hard time not leaving bruises on your skin from how rough he's holding onto you. He's long since let your shirt go, instead grabbing onto the back of the couch. But he waits until he feels that familiar clench around his cock. The way your walls clamp down around him as you cum. The only warning being the high-pitched muffled moan that gets swallowed by Clyde.

His hips slam into you one more time before he pulls out. Grabbing the base of his cock, he shoots that hot thick load onto your back. Heavy amounts of cum drip down your spine making you whine and shiver. Clyde can't take his eyes off the way his partner paints your backside. It makes a trail of drool slip down his chin.

The poor man can't do it anymore, he can't stop his eyes from rolling up to the back of his head. Not when your moans vibrate up him and your throat tightens from choking on him. He needs this release.

"I'm gonna cum baby. Please, let me cum. Let me cum in your mouth." Clyde all but cries in between panting. His begging dissolves into your name and the word please over and over again.

His flickering eyes catch yours again. It's when you give him a little wink and a hum, his cock violently twitches and cum spills from his tip. His cum is sweeter than normal, it makes it easier to swallow.

Slowly he pulls out of your mouth with one final whimper. It isn't until Craig swipes his thumb over his cheek that you realize he had tears streaming down them. Clyde presses his cheek into Craig's hand and lets out a pleased sigh. Once he knows Clyde is okay, Craig stands up and goes to get a towel to help clean your back. He does the same to your face, swiping away the left-over tears.

"Feeling better?" Clyde asks as he helps pull your underwear up. "Nice and relaxed?"

You nod and rest your head against his chest. "You've got good ideas sometimes."

"I've got wrinkles on my brain." He smirks to himself, taking your little praise miles.

Craig comes back after tossing the towel in the dirty laundry with a large blanket. He throws it over both of you before climbing in next to you. He lays his head down on Clyde's and grabs the tv remote.

"Kitchen Nightmare or Hell’s Kitchen?"

"Kitchen Nightmares! I need some petty British accents after my orgasm denial!"

You scrunch up your nose at Clyde’s comment. Almost wanting to pull back. "Smooth brain behavior."

"Smooth brain behavior." Craig chimes in.

The three of you relax into the couch, almost ready for the group nap that comes with the afterglow of love making. That is until inspiration strikes you again. Your eyes light up and you go to wiggle out of their hold. But Craig's arms are faster, they keep you firm against his chest. Clyde's hands come down a moment later, cupping your hips.

"Nope. You're staying right here."

"Guys! No! I just figured out how I'm gonna get that chapter finished! You gotta let me go! I gotta do it!" Your pleads are wasted, like they're not even heard.

"No. You're warm and I'm tired."

"That's not my fault or my problem."

"I'm making it your problem. Sit still."

"You know Tucker bear isn't going to let go. You're fighting a losing battle babe." Craig at least has the decency to let Clyde finish before pinching him. You know Clyde's nickname for him makes him grumpy. His little yelp makes you giggle.

"Fine....at least until you fall asleep."

"Look if you think you can get out of his hold, then be my guest. You earned it at that point." Clyde's smirk returns. He throws his leg over yours and tucks it in between Craig's knees.

"Fuck you." Your eyes narrow up at him. He's not as slick as he thinks he is, trying to cage you in with a sleepy Craig.

"Again? So soon. You're insatiable babe. Let us recover first." Clyde presses a kiss into the top of your head, pulling back before you can headbutt him.

His hand guides your head back down onto his chest and he just chuckles. It doesn't take long before Craig is passed out with his head nuzzled into the curve of your waist. Holding you like a teddy bear against his chest. Clyde's smile grows when he sees you trying to fight off sleep. But it eventually takes you and you lose the battle. He turns the tv down just a bit, deciding to join the both of you.

That chapter can wait another day.

[nee-biter]

Miguel x Peter x Reader x Jess? 😍

Thanks for the ask, anon! 🫶 So uh.. prepare yourselves 😭?

Internship Things | Miguel x Peter B x Reader x Jess

You are Jess's mentee, Miguel's sugar baby, and Peter B's mistress all the while trying to complete your internship hours 😮‍💨

Warnings: transactional relationships, sharing is caring, cunnilingus, consensual non-con, degradation, age gap, cheating, honestly it's just dirty

Your university was one of the most prestigious in Nueva York and had ties with both the local government and the local superhuman establishments.

Being one of the top students in your course, political science, you were tasked to survey and work in an institution of your choice; for whatever reason, you chose to intern at Spider Society.

How did you know Miguel O'Hara? He told you they don't accept interns. "There's no room for a regular girl like you." When you insisted, arguing that all institutions can benefit from having their systems looked into, he offered to sign your documents and pay for your tuition if you just shut that pretty mouth of yours and become a decoration in his office.

Maybe he was joking, so you spat back. He didn't like that.

How did you know Jessica Drew? That same day in that same office, she caught Miguel inside you, your panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. His cum on your stomach, but he was still pumping it deep in you; your hands were wrapped around his neck and your eyes rolled back—couldn't escape him but also couldn't resist him. Jessica watched, turned on by her secrecy behind the door before she eventually came in and yanked you off from him. "Stop breeding girls like cattle, Miguel. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll treat you better."

She was such a caring yet stern mentor that you could forgive her if she sometimes had the need to lick your clit over and over again until you squirt on her mouth. After a long day of her missions and your paperwork, she would knock at your work space.

How did you know Peter B Parker? You caught him making out with Miguel on your way to inspect the weapons archive, so now you had to be in on their secret. And having only one secret to keep isn't enough, you had to be their little play thing now.

Miguel tempted Peter B to take you. For some reason Peter B can cheat on his wife with a man, but gets faint at the idea of fucking another pussy. Peter B gently assured you could trust him and so, when he finally touched you—a soft hand on your hip—you leaned into his touch and became pliable to his kisses. From your neck, to your collarbones, until your clothes have come off and his lips were on your breasts then your wet cunt.

"I'm sorry, baby, what's your name again?" Of course he only asked that once his cock was already inside you.

You were only three weeks into your internship, but the amount of times your pussy has been used between the three of them could not be counted on your ten fingers.

Sometimes, Peter B would make small talk with you and tell you all about his wonderful daughter that you'd been wanting to meet. But then the next minute, he would sit you down a couch and start fingering you, one of your tits being suckled by him. He asked you once, "Am I the oldest man you've ever had? I swear I won't be shocked."

On some days, Miguel would call you into his lab with a pathetic excuse like 'needing outsider perspective.' It's code for needing you on your knees, sucking him good but never once pleasing you back. As he buries his cock in your throat, Miguel would pinch your nose, further tormenting you. He likes to use you and he's making that clear. "You're my personal slut, I own you. I pay you."

Honestly, you have Jess to thank for taking care of you at the end of any day. She invited you to her universe once and rented a hotel room—"call it a work-related field trip." She would run a bath for both of you, ask about your day, before your two bodies would intertwine. She'd have you lean on the wall, leg up, as she lapped your juices. She'd have you on the bed, exploring positions until you're eventually spent and gasping for air. "Thank god you chose this place to work in. Can't live without mommy's princess."

When your school asks you what you had been doing in Spider Society, maybe just lie?

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first Australian Girl doll

She spent more than a month in a box, making her way halfway across the world to her new home, and now here she is! I'm so relieved that she arrived safely. It was the longest I've ever had to wait for a doll, and through much of her journey I didn't know where she was or when she would be here.

I don't want to drop too big of a spoiler, but listen to this........ she was so worth the wait, and the money. This doll instantly won my heart with how exquisite she is in every way.

Australian Girl dolls were specially made for Australian children, by Helen Schofield, a grandmother who loved dolls. She created the brand when she couldn't find an age appropriate doll that was locally available or good quality. So she created these dolls to help children feel pride in Australian culture, while teaching them about friendship and empathy. There are five girls to befriend--Amy, Jasmine, Emily, Bronte, and Matilda, each representing a different region of the country, ethnicity, and lifestyle.

The company itself has quite high standards. They strive to reduce waste in their product packaging, and they use a factory in China that treats its workers humanely and does not use child labor.

If you've been around my blog for a while, you know how much I love collecting diverse brands and types of play dolls, especially international dolls. Also, this one will be extra special because I actually have an Australian grandmother--she's also a doll collector, and I'm looking forward to showing her my new doll the next time I see her.

After the cut, I'll show you who she is, and talk about why I chose her. I'll compare her with similar-sized dolls as well, and have her do some dressing up.

Before we get to the unboxing, let's check out the little goodies included with my doll.

First is a little pamphlet explaining why the dolls are special, but also represent real girls growing up in Australia.

There's another pamphlet about how to care for your doll.

All of the dolls come with a fun freebie: this cute pair of thongs.

Another freebie (a $30 AUD value) is this very sturdy doll carrier with pockets for accessories.

I also bought a pair of sneakers for my new girl. I figured her feet would be a bit larger than my other dolls, and these are cute, so she now has three pairs of shoes to wear.

Anyway. Enough of the small stuff. Let's let her out of the box.

It's Amy from Adelaide!

I chose Amy after three entire years of being indecisive and going back and forth on exactly which Australian Girl I wanted. They're all equally adorable, so I picked Amy because her personality seems very sweet, and I love that she has mixed heritage. According to the Austrlaian Girl dolls website, Amy's family tree is a mix of Aboriginal and Dutch on her mother's side, and English and Indian/Fijian on her father's side. Very representative of modern Australia!

I have no regrets. She is perfect!!! Just the most charming little angel. I am officially WOWED.

I'm seriously impressed at the superior quality of her construction. I understand why she was priced a bit higher than similar dolls. She is, from head to toe, beautifully made, with so many sweet details. Her dress and shoes are also impeccably made and feel very durable.

Her hair is flawless. It's a Kanekalon wig with loose curls, in a gorgeous shade of brown. Her eyes open and close. She has both painted and attached eyelashes.

She has a gap between her big toe and the next toe, so she can wear her sandals and thongs.

Her elbows are dimpled and she has subtle blush color on parts of her skin, including elbows and hands.

She has a crease across her palm.

She has articulation at her shoulders, hips, and neck. Her limbs, head, and shoulders are vinyl, and she has a huggable soft tummy. I don't really have a strong preference for either cloth torsos, vinyl torsos, or half and half like Amy. They all have pros and cons. This specific construction is nice in that she can wear low-neckline clothes without showing a cloth body, but it does make her harder to repair in case she has to be fixed.

I have a pretty good idea of what she'll be wearing when she's ready to change out of her pink party dress.

The first photo shows her in a dress I made. The second is a Maplelea dress and hat. The rest are all American Girl brand clothing, except for the shoes. Amy can comfortably wear most stretchy clothes by AG and similar brands like Our Generation, but her feet absolutely will not fit AG, OG, or Maplelea shoes.

The exception to the clothes is some of the tighter pieces. This AG shirt did not fit well. Amy's shoulders are a bit more broad than smaller dolls, and so without some extra give this is too tight.

Amy is 20 inches/51 centimeters tall. Here she is next to my Our Generation doll Jordana. I'm using an OG doll because they're actually available locally in Australia. Whereas American Girl dolls, which I usually use when I compare brands, have to make an overseas journey. So it's only fair that I consider any Australians reading this now who are wondering how Amy compares.

Amy is tall, but not the tallest doll in the family! Here she is next to Fernanda, my Karito Kids doll, who is about an inch taller although slimmer. Karito Kids dolls are in fact just slightly skinnier than American Girl dolls, so they have a much easier time sharing clothes.

In conclusion, I highly highly recommend this doll. She's absolutely sublime! I'm so thrilled to have her here, and I'm looking forward to having lots of adventures with her.

Obviously I'm far from Australia, but my Amy will still live her life as if she were in a suburb outside of the city of Adelaide. I've been looking at pictures of the geography of the state of South Australia, and there are some places in the mountainous parts that look pretty similar to the desert southwest where I live. So Amy will have no idea she's actually in the USA. Don't tell her the truth!

[life-winners-liveblog]

Is or deer boy implying we make a deal?... A deal with destiny mayhaps???? (sorry I had too)

How about this

Once apon a time in a land known only to the sages of the past there was a kind man. The man had fled from his home from a tirant king that wished death on him and his family.

The man had been blessed with a new start and used it to create a vast safe space, a Sanctuary for all those without a home.

His love and kindness attracted the attention of 3 local gods.

A god of the stories passed around by large and small, from the tiniest of bugs to the most powerful of rulers

A god of the sun, his radiance spanning from one corner of the earth to the other

And the goddess of harvest, her love spanning through every kernel of corn or pop of wheat, feeding everyone she has placed under her protection.

The gods appeared before the kind man one by one, each showering the man with gifts and promises, hoping that the man would pledge his loyalty them.

The God of stories creating a son in his image, if the man raised him with love and compassion the child would go on to do great things the God promised

The God of the sun promised him the power to destroy all those who would ever threaten the beautiful lands of the Sanctuary

And the last goddess of harvest promised to protect the land with bountiful harvest each year for the lost souls who stumble apon the land seeking a new start.

The man, without skipping a beat, pledged his loyalty to the goddess, promising to never stray from his goal of giving homes to those who are like he once was.

....

Then there was something with a bunny man who happens to be his dad and a bard and stuff but that's a story for another time.... Now tell us another story

-Neth

Scott: Oh? A sun god?

Scar: The only sun god I know is BdoubleO!

Scott: WHAT?!?

Scar: Oh yeah we had this meetup with Empires and Bdubs came back a sun god.

Grian: I... uh...

Scott:... So then I shall recount a story as well! Since yours was so god heavy I am going to choose a story from: A collection of tales of Gods and Monster by Soliana Scarlet Terzed, first court writer of the fourth reign.

Grian: Do you remember all of that...by memory? Why?

Scott: When I was a child it was the book I used to learn how to read and write, I know every bit of it.

Scar: Cool!

Scott: So this is the story of the birth of Aeor himself so you might have heard of it?

Scar: Nope!

Grian: Yeah, no.

Scott: Ok, so, Aeor is the son of Clara, the goddess of space, his father is uncertain but what we do know is that Destiny despised his half brother to the point he declared that Clara would not birth any more children in the future.

Grian: Already sounds like a bit of an ass...

Scott: First Clara went to one of her grandaughters: The goddess of birth but even she could not go against Destinys law. And so she had an idea, she went to Wendarr, the god of time himself, with a request to allow her to give birth at a time before Destinys order. Wendarr tought and tought of the pros and cons until he came up with an offer, Clara would play a game of cards against him and if she won she would be able to give birth... The game lasted a long long time with Wendarr seeing Claras plays in the future and Clara omnipresence making her able of seeing Wendarrs cards. After days and days of playing however, Wendarr in part tired and in part convinced by her points purposely looses putting an end to the game and letting Clara win and finally give birth to Aeor and Exor. Destiny embarassed by his loss eventually agreed to go back on his edict and Clara had many more children.

[watchtheblog]

Cutting Slack

hello to the hierarchy of my besties: irl besties, internet besties, fantasy besties; the hierarchy of my haters: just the three of you, followed by someone who goes by the alias k.s on google reviews; an ever dwindling number of exes who can read, a handful of people i’m just getting to know who are about to know me too well too fast, and anyone else who has stumbled upon this highly specific page on the internet!!

if you’ve been here before, you know the deal. i’m going to weave a web of little jokes into a somewhat coherent story and then as a reward for knowing me you get the opportunity to see 20 things i hope to receive for my birthday, which, i hope you know… is tomorrow (26 september); i’m turning 94.

The joke web:

In february 2023 after the company I co-created sold to one of the corniest companies on the planet, I quit because they wanted me to set forth eight hours a day I would be available to do work. Seven years into a job I’d put 8 hours a year into, this was a startling task.

Also, they wanted me to become a member of slack, or get on slack, or write to them in slack. Or do something, whatever one does, on slack. You can do a lot of things to me, but what you’re not gonna do is make me go on slack. Many have tried in the past and not a one has ever succeeded.

Not to sound like Mark Cuban - or myself in [redacted] years -  but an 8 hour workday was not for me. And I explained this. I told a woman alleging to be my supervisor that every morning I woke up, I did cult for 20 minutes, wrote in my journal for 45 minutes, went for a 1 hour walk, came home, showered, drank a little poison, read for one hour in my garden, did some dilly dallying on the internet, and then I went to an appointment*, and by the time I was done with all of that it was already 4pm and that’s wind down time in my culture. 

Where did she want me to find 8 hours?!

(*i realize appointment time is not a thing (everyone can understand) but I’m gonna have to save it for another post. appointment time is sacred in a directionless little bug’s life and it deserves to be explained properly.)

If you think I’m joking that I laid out this schedule to a woman who was born inside a human resources complaint folder and whose dearly departed soul resides within a ludicrously capacious bag somewhere, I beg you to get to know me better.

Fundamentally, she did not understand and spiritually I was not the messenger to enlighten her, so I decided to quit.

I am impulsive by nature but this decision was incredibly thought out. I wrote down a list of pros and cons and I titled the cons list “things I’m not aligned with” and I listed 11 things.

“I dont want to be managed!!!!!!” (this is a literal copy and paste) topped the chart.

To follow? “Corporate weirdness”, and, simply: “Slack”.

On the pros list I wrote: “Freedom”, “I will finally be free”. (LOL!) Underneath it, it says “Take a fucking risk.”

I sat with these lists for approximately three minutes, and then I wrote an email announcing my resignation. And then I quite literally never spoke to anyone there ever again.

This all leads me to one short pivot before we’ll arrive at our final destination of my birthday list. 

When I mentioned earlier that I am impulsive by nature, I mean that I quit my job because someone said there was a question posed to me in Slack and I needed to answer it came to Ohio to visit my dad’s (RIP) childhood home and my (then) girlfriend convinced me to call the number on a commercial real estate building and within 45 days I’d signed a lease and 90 days later I had packed, driven, and moved my entire life across the country. 

When I moved here, I knew no one so I did a lot of things you may think only people who are on reality dating shows do, like: go to an espresso martini making class, cook marshmallows over an open fire in a state park at night with strangers, slide down a snowy hill on a plastic saucer as an activity, or attend a local rat’s birthday party.*

*disclaimer for anyone here who doesn’t GET me bc I’m scared to be misunderstood: i loved all of these things I’m not mocking them; I’m simply holding a light to the absurdity of my *on the spectrum, agoraphobic weirdo* ass doing these things in earnest because i needed to not kms. ◡̈  kms stands for k*ll myself.*

(Of course all of these things on a reality dating show would involve two people, whereas in my case I did all of those things alone.)

As a treat for my efforts to be a member of society, the universe provided me with the unique gift of meeting the anthropomorphic version of my intrusive thoughts!! 

We’ll call her Gloria (for no reason) and in our first phone conversation she had called everyone in the state of ohio “fat, lazy and bipolar” and told me my business would fail.

One minute after we hung up, she texted asking if I wanted to sauna with her right now. Now mind you, I’ve been doing shit “for the lore” since before it was called “lore” and men were just telling me I was insane (simpler times!!) so I grabbed a bikini and drove 9 minutes ready to go in a sauna with a random lady I’d never met.

And go in a sauna with a random lady I did... fully clothed for a reason that both confused and relieved me. In that sauna, Gloria repeated the aforementioned phone topics and added a pointed “nobody wants to work out; you will fail” while staring at me in a box heated to 130 degrees.

“It’s okay. Everything is always working out for me” I told her as she persisted in her negativity, because I lacked the ability to just tell her to shut the fuck up (and also because that is true). 

I considered the possibility of her behavior coming from a good intentioned place, like when cars driving the opposite direction flash their lights to let you know they just passed a cop (as if that ever hits). I considered it was an act of humanity, one unstable woman to another; trying to save me from the hell she thought was inevitable given her own - self proclaimed - “failure”. (she had opened and closed a studio of her own.)

So I let her keep flashing her dumb lights at me, showing up to my studio uninvited in the middle of my buildout telling me I should see if my landlord would let me out of my lease, texting me little foreboding horror stories about the perils of being in the fitness industry, sending me local businesses that were closing as if to say “i told you so; i’m warning you.”

“You’ll see” she said multiple times, as if to predict my ultimate demise in a way I’d be able to reflect on in the future, remembering she’d warned me. 

In those moments and in the months of desperation and grind leading up to the opening of my business I had no other choice but to move forward blindly, confidently. Long before I met this psychopath I had prepared for the possibility of failure. Unlike this woman, however, that preparation involved the potential of having to say “I failed… now what?” rather than “I failed. I’m the rule, not the exception. The journey is impossible.”

It’s been almost two years since I left the career I thought would define me, and while I certainly haven’t failed, I’m not writing this from the other side. I’m writing this from the beginning of a long journey I’m prepared and excited to be on that began the day I decided to take a fucking risk.

Two years ago I couldn’t find 8 hours a day to work and now somehow I’ve found 14-18…

and not a single one of them has been spent on slack. 

The Gift Portion!!!  the intangible: for the dismantling of nextdoor dot com, for all my bad memories to be erased, to win the war against seed oils, for the ai to stop(!!!), that the person who sullied my google reviews finds God and healing bc going against me is a form of psychosis, for great deals on this upcoming amazon prime day, that natalia grace is ok, that i never hear a telephone ring again, for watermelon to be in season all the time, that nobody is ever mad at me, that all eggs would turn to donuts in a way that would not have negative implications for chickens or negative repercussions for farmers, that everyone bounces back from whatever inevitable side effects ozempic will have, that my frequently used emoji are all safe and sound after getting rearranged, and for everyone I know and love to read the source by dr tara swart, and that they are all happy, healthy, successful, and in love forever.

the ones you can buy: these shoes (size 38)  or these shoes (size 38) also these (and you guessed it! 38) i want to fix my brain here, a casual five day immersive neurofeedback experience this watch this large suitcase or this one i cant pick this gorgeana kind of urgently, this these shoes (great deal alert!!!!) (size 38) i think the trajectory of my life would change if i owed four of these and maybe some other things to go with it big year for shoes … huge a stunning linen spray this practical thing her this or something else from her(e) these, white, small also kind of urgently, these this definitely the max mara teddy coat in the absolute smallest size and this is the last time I’m gonna put it here!!!!!! ykto!!! (lol!!)

[thebisexualdogdad]

Dating Celina Juarez headcanons (GN!reader)

● Celina didn't feel the need to talk about her personal life at work

● which is why everyone thought she and Aaron had started seeing each other and tried to warn them about dating fellow cops

● Aaron "are you sure about this?"

● Celina to Nolan "we should come clean, Aaron and I have indeed gotten close… playing dnd with my partner whose right out there"

● she points to you standing in the station lobby waiting to drive her home after her shift

● you see her through the window and smile and wave at her

● Celina patting Aaron on the shoulder "see you Saturday for our next session"

● she leaves Nolan very confused about the whole thing "the entire time Celina was staying with me and Bailey not once did she mention she was dating someone"

● Aaron "Oh yeah I think they got into an argument that week mercury was in retrograde afterall"

● John "mercury was in what??"

● speaking of, just like Celina you have your entire astrological chart memorized

● and regularly see psychics, tarot readers, spiritual healers etc to keep everything in balance

● you and Celina going to all sorts of comic cons

● and you always cosplay together

● you even get Aaron to go with you to a convention

● but he refuses to dress up with you guys

● you "but I made you a costume that goes with ours??"

● Aaron "yeah no thanks the only time I dress up in a costume is for halloween"

● Celina "that's great we'll save it for next halloween"

● Aaron "... sure we can do that"

● Celina coming home with cuts and bruises

● "another exciting day at work?"

● "just another holding cell brawl"

● "I bet you kicked all their asses"

● "damn right"

● Nolan invites you two over for dinner to officially meet

● he ends up having to spend the entire night listening to you and Celina talk about all the crystals Bailey should get and all of the very specific purposes they have

● Celina "so did you ever look into the history of your house?"

● Nolan "no I've been meaning to get to that…"

● you "Oh if you need help I know some local historians who can tell you if anyone died on the property, there was some bad energy in our place when we moved in, turned out a guy died from a heart attack in it ten years prior, saged him right out and it's been good ever since… I didn't want to say anything but I did get a bit of a weird vibe when I first walked in"

● Nolan "you two really are made for each other aren't you"

[humbuginmybones]

Another chapter!!!

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝔀𝓸: "𝓢𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓐 𝓢𝓲𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰..."

You couldn't help but question if it was a polite or stupid move to not approach Alex Turner. You had been prone to overthinking, and ever since you got in the cab to go home, your mind had been cracked with a mental, endless pros and cons list from that one action. To think that you got so close to meeting a star, hell, even meeting your favorite band.

But on the other hand... That was also a strong and good thing of you to not approach them. You had enjoyed your night on your own, and that was all that mattered - The night had been a net positive.

The next few days went by very nicely - You had a lovely job at this cute little book shop in High Green, and had a handful of coworkers who were just the sweetest. There was Henry, who had worked there the longest, and you were convinced that he had read every book they stocked in the store. His parents were from Wales, and were the sweetest people ever, they had even invited you over for tea a few times. Then there was Sahari, a wonderful young woman of Indian descent, and she made the best tea! She even paired certain teas with classic novels, which added an extra special touch to your store in particular. And then there was Josi, a non-binary person of African descent, and they did the best makeup, you two loved sending each other pictures and videos of your individual looks. Josi was also awesome at pushing you out of your comfort zone without ever overstepping boundaries. These friendships grounded you, and we're some of the best people you knew. You were so lucky to have them. The four of you had a book club, and loved analyzing books. Meetings were usually hosted on slow days at the shop. The job was good and sustained you, and the friendships always lit up your days. These three always made you feel comfortable and secure.

Josi said they'd close down the shop for tonight, so you left thirty minutes early. You treated to yourself to the local cinema, the kind that re-ran old movies all the time. This weekend, they were showing a re-run of Mean Streets.

It was a good way to start your weekend. The film ended late, and had a small crowd. Throwing your jacket on, you exited the cinema and started walking home. Yes, it was nighttime, but your home was less than a mile away, you were a fast walker, and had pepper spray and a switchblade - This wasn't the first time you had walked this path, thankfully. There was another break in the rain, the weather had been letting up since an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night.

You turned a corner, and... You noticed a figure... The figure got closer to you, trying to talk... Maybe you recognized the voice, the outline?

A man got a lot closer to you, and through the darkness, he looked a hell of a lot like Alex Turner - Or maybe you were just imagining things, since the subject of this man has occupied so much of the space in your mind. Who the hell in the world would be walking around at this hour? This was a sleepier side of town, and... Wait, was that man wearing sunglasses... At night?

The man lit up a cigarette, and the slight light from the butt finally illuminated his face.

He's either the man you've hyper-fixated on, or... The world's greatest doppelganger.

Oh fuck me - Fate really does exist. Alex Turner thought to himself. He asked himself what to do - He would sound creepy as fuck if he said this was the third time he had laid eyes on you. But he knew that he had fumbled his chance last time, and swore to himself that he wouldn't let that happen again. He asked himself if he should open up with a cheesy pick-up line, or to act normal, or... His options flooded his hand, but you would walk by at any moment, so he simply muttered to you: "Hi."

Goddamn. You couldn't help but think. "Hello." You responded, finally stopping.

This was Alex's chance - What does he say...?

"It's nice to see a lovely lady like you tonight." All he could think was how grateful he was that he didn't slip up or mess up his words.

You heard that deep Sheffield accent - And some blood rushed to your cheeks, finally adding warmth to that area after the wind nipping at your cheeks your whole walk home. Would you offer a name? All three of your closest friends had your location... And you were polite.

"Thank you, how are you?" You responded curtly. You swallowed and finally admitted what was stuck on your mind.

"Oh my God, you look like Alex Turner! Sorry for being so blunt."

Holy shit, she talked back - This is really happening. Alex kept his cool demeanor, and responded quite quickly. "Hey there. You caught me, yes I'm Alex Turner."

Almost all your brain cells shut off. You started talking without thinking of the consequences, you were that starstruck.

"Holy shit, Alex Turner - I'm... Quite the fan. I really hope this doesn't bother you, but may I have an autograph, or a picture? It's alright if you decline."

He's surprised by how chill you seem to be taking this whole situation. He feels relieved, he hates it when he gets people freaking out and acting weird. He takes a quick drag of his cigarette, and smiles softly.

"Always nice to meet a fan, what is your name if I may ask?"

"Y/N." You two shake hands.

He shakes your hand, and nods, his eyes wandering to your body a bit, before he realizes what he is doing and smiles warmly at you.

"So uh, what are you doing here out this late? Just walking home?"

"Ah, you've got me. Can we take a pic and get an autograph, if it's not too much?"

He smiles warmly, thinking it was kind of cute that you wanted these things from him.

"Sure, sure. I always like to interact with my fans as much as possible."

"Thank you!" You two get the pic and autograph done.

He's surprised that you're not asking more of him, he's gotten too used to weird fans. He laughs a bit.

"That was surprisingly quick and easy! You seem very laid back."

"Thank you!" You smile so brightly.

He notices that beautiful smile of yours, your beautiful eyes, and he couldn't help but keep staring. There was something about you that kept him drawn in.

"Well, you're welcome. I guess I could ask you a question in return?"

You nod eagerly.

He laughs a bit, finding it cute how star struck you seemed.

"What's your opinion on my solo project The Submarine EP, if you've heard of it?"

Why the fuck did I ask that? Alex thought yo himself. Does your brain short-circuit the second you see a pretty girl?

He cleared his throat and tried to play it cool.

"Yes, it was beautiful, and Submarine is one of my favorite films." You responded quickly.

His eyes widen, and he looks extremely pleased. He breathed an extreme sigh of relief, so happy that he didn't come off as awkward.

"So you've not only heard it, but you've seen the movie it was for too. That's quite a surprise. Not many people know it's... There, you have excellent taste, if I may say."

"Wow, thank you sir." You responded.

He laughs again, you seem quite respectful.

"No need to call me sir, just call me Alex. Everyone does."

"Well, thank you, Alex. It was very nice to meet you."

He smiles warmly at you, he's enjoying your presence more than you'd know.

"Well, it was just as nice to meet you. I'm glad to see that I have a fan who isn't going to stalk me or be crazy over me."

"Damn, that must be intense and scary..." You said quietly.

He laughs quietly at that, you're not wrong.

"It's why I'm happy to be here now, though I'll be leaving in a few weeks to record." He smiled then continued.

"Yes, the US is quite intense, a lot more fans there than here, and they're so... extreme. I've had people come to my house in America and demand things from me that I am not willing to give. I'm really just happy you're not like that."

"Oh, of course! So sorry to hear that!"

He shrugs, it's just the nature of being famous.

"I signed up for this, it's no worries. But, I am really glad that you're not as extreme as some of my other fans. I think we can be friends if you'd like? You seem quite friendly and genuine."

"You mean it?!" You smile in glee.

He laughs a bit, quite surprised by this reaction, but also amused by it.

"Of course, you seem like a friend-worthy individual!"

"Thank you! Would you like my number?"

His eyes light up briefly, yes please!

"I would, would you like mine in return?"

"Please. What an honor."

He smiles widely, and pulls out a silver sharpie he keeps in his back pocket, he writes his number down and hands you the sticky note.

"You can contact me anytime, and I'm happy to reply as long as I am not busy with things."

"Thank you... Well... I have a celebrity's number... Thanks!" You chuckle cutely.

Alex has to resist the urge to put his hands on his cheeks at how cute she is, she truly is adorable.

"Just remember what I said, you can call me anytime. Maybe we could meet again, hang out as friends maybe?"

"Sure. I won't keep you too long, but text me the details when you get a chance!" You smile cutely and courteously.

He smiles back warmly, you're one of the least crazy fans he's met. It's quite refreshing.

"I most certainly will, I've really enjoyed this small interaction, I want you to keep in touch."

"Thanks, thanks, great to hear!"

"Talk to you soon!"

You smile and the two of you part.

Alex nods and smiles again, his eyes drifting over to your hips, he can't help it, and he blushes a bit. He's very interested in your body. As you separate he's left blushing, and he decides to text you.

"Have a good night, we will definitely keep in touch."

You smiled as you went back to your home, and the rain started up again. You snuggled up in your blankets and flicked on the heater as the warm lights in your room gave you this angelic glow - A supernatural beauty, which was exactly what Alex thought you were, even if you didn't know that yet. You texted Alex again, and then texted your group chat the picture of you and Alex, and tons of caps and exclamation marks were exchanged between the four of you. Alex texted you 'Goodnight', and you finally put your phone away to charge, and drifted off to a land of dreams... And it seemed the future would give you opportunities to pursue new dreams - That could become reality.

[askthestans]

To Stan, have you and Ford been to a little Conneticut town named Gravesfield before? I hear a certain old flame of Stan's frequents that place by crossing through a literal door to another dimension. Plus, she has a human friend who's like a mix of Dipper and Mabel too.

Stanford: You're talking about Marilyn, aren't you? Yes, my brother did-

Stanley: No, no... let me tell the story, Sixer. One of my happiest memories.

Stanford: But she-

Stanley: Oh Marilyn... that gal was the hottest, smartest woman this world has ever seen. I'm talkin' smokin', and not just on the outside. Hated authority, loved mischief, and didn't let anything get in her way.

One day, I was near Gravesfield between heists, and heard about this local woman who was a bit of a chaos-maker. I'd been asked to deliver her some really weird crap by one of my, uh... "associates". I'm talkin' random objects like a broken TV, fishing poles, yadda yadda. Honestly, I thought it was a setup, but I was desperate and knew how to defend myself, so... off I went.

Well, I get there near this park I was supposed to meet her by, and lo and behold, I see this lady with gorgeous long hair and a rather sharp tooth. However, I guess she had a knack for upsetting local law enforcement like I do, 'cause I'm about to approach and a cop pulls up and tells her to stay put. Somethin' about swiping muffins or whatever.

I helped her get away. When we got a moment to breathe, she gave me this weirded out look, then saw my gold chain necklace and said somethin' about "shinies". I was already fallin'. Asked her her name. She smiled, told me Marilyn, and that was the beginning of a very short, very sweet little romance.

One day, she asks me what's the shiniest place in the world. Told her the best I'd seen was Vegas. So we go on a road trip there, havin' the time of our lives, though she continually kept collecting these weird objects. I didn’t mind. Not like I had many possessions to fill my car up with, anyway.

Well, one thing led to another, and... we got married in Vegas and... oh, I couldn't have been more proud of her...

*Stan starts tearing up, then sobs a bit.*

Stanford: Need me to finish the story for you, Stan?

Stanley: No, I got it. No, she... she, uh... Marilyn robbed me the day after the ceremony. She robbed me blind. She took my gold chain, my clothes, my wallet, and my car. I hear her leave the hotel room, and next thing I know, I’m runnin’ after her in my underwear and she’s gettin’ away with my keys.

Long story short, I stole a motorcycle, chased after her on the highway in my underwear while being broadcast on public TV and chased by cops for ‘public indecency’, and caught up with her, mostly due to the fact that she didn’t know how to drive. I thanked her for her poor aim with the gun I’d stashed in the glovebox, told her I respected her long con game, and said I’d take her back to Connecticut if she let me have my stuff back.

Marilyn agreed. And then... after spendin’ my last days with her, I had to let that gem go. I let her keep my gold chain, though. She told me she’d pawn it as soon as she got home, and you know what? I couldn’t have respected her more. Wherever she is now, I hope she’s happy. She deserves it.

Stanford: You have very strange tastes in women.

Stanley: *Sighs dreamily.* That Marilyn... what a fox!

[sasslett]

((I would love to hear more about your horses and cosplay as another fan of both of those things.))

!!

I've mentioned before I've got two horses - Arwen, my 20 year old quarter horse who I bought to continue doing dressage but college and life got in the way, and unknown to me she came with a ton of baggage and a funky hip that we're still working on to this day, but she's never going to be not aggressive and she's always going to be distrustful of people and that's just that

and then I've got... Ahem... Lord Alphinaud Leveilleur (look no one told me I couldn't name him that). He's just turned five, he was an accident baby I bought last year from his original owners who were training him to be a Spanish parade horse, and he his the cutest sweetest most people friendly curious little big guy I've ever known, I love him so much and while having a young horse has been a challenge (he was a little shithead who didn't know boundaries when I first got him) it's also so fun and rewarding because I know he doesn't have issues, he doesn't have anything I need to fix and he'll be with me for a good 20+ years at his age. He's a mystery baby, mom was a thoroughbred and I met dad, he looked like a Percheron mixed with maybe a quarter horse? Absolutely massive lad but short.

(dont worry the noodle went away after he began to destroy it)

I haven't been able to ride due to health issues lately but I do dressage, but not like modern dressage but the real classical stuff. My trainer learned from a man from the Spanish riding school and it's just phenomenal, it's so different from most approaches but the results are amazing and soft and kind and as crazy as her methods sound they actually work.

As for cosplay, we've got... um, a week to finish Lucia and Aymeric and they are... not done. Not even close. My mom was going to go as Matoya as well but we just ran out of time. But we (mother, husband and I) have all been cosplaying together for 12 years! At the risk of sharing my face around here (I hate my face), I'll post some of my favorites...

Featuring my dork husband (he's the Hyth, the cat and the prince, and we've made adjustments to Hyth's wig in the meantime but that's the only photo I have)

And some bonus shots of my mother, who is way cooler than I am

i wish we had better photos but obviously with all of us being in costume we don't get to carry a camera around, so random photographer shots and shitty cell phone cam is the best I can offer!

I love taking a costume and bringing it to life as realistically as possible - fabrics are the most important thing to me, researching what's period accurate and finding the right weight and drape and so on. We used to compete and do all the big cons (SDCC, NYCC, dragoncon etc) but with the flying and the stress it just wasn't fun anymore so now we just do local PNW cons - Sakura con in Seattle is next! Depending on how kind people are I might share a photo of Lucia and Aymeric when they're finished.

Thank you for asking! If you've got any horse or cosplay stories to share I'd love to hear them too!

[senorablack]

I'm a Fool to Want You

Words: 7755 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington's Parents, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham Additional Tags: Film Noir, Murder Mystery, Possessive Sex, Nonbinary Character, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Infidelity, Jealousy, Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Minor Eddie Munson/Original Character(s), Reunion Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Cock Slapping, Minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Drama & Romance, possible anachronisms tbh, Bottom Eddie Munson, Sex Work Summary: Steve Harrington is a regular at Valentine’s, a word-of-mouth, traveling party for queers. As a hard-knocked detective in a town meant to kill you slowly, he’s not meaning to be anything but drunk at tonight’s shindig. Somehow, with the help of a gorgeous pianist, he finds himself in love.

No city did violence like Hawkins, and there was no better reprieve than Valentine’s.

They called the traveling party a mine. Said that you could find gold if you knew where to dig. So he dug. Over and again, he dug. True to tale, tonight’s locale was dressed down in the color. From the shimmering table runners, to the stem of every champagne glass, and to all the glittering jewelry that hung from the neck and wrists of this town’s tipsy, queer underground. 

Valentine’s was an unofficial title and never did once fall on its namesake. It fell whenever and wherever they could find a spot discrete enough to host it. Valentine’s because you were meant to find a sweetheart. Or so it goes. He wouldn’t know. And wasn’t ever expecting anything sweeter than a cube of sugar dropped in his highball. Sweetheart? Sure. Nothing’s been sweet on his heart for years. No, sweet was hard to find in a town hellbent on turning you sour.

Detective Harrington grimaced. He sat back and loosened his tie. Rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Looked onto the lively crowd with a smile that felt real enough, watching his best gal con another into a dance. It’d been their third time attending and Robin always begged him to try. Try to have a little fun, she’d say, let loose. Try to find what they all came here for, she didn’t. Which was fair enough, he supposes. He never said so either—hadn’t it in him to tell her that he’d gone off trying a long time ago.

As if sensing his mood, the music shifted. Where once was the jaunty trumpet and drums that had spelled the room to twirl and shimmy, was now replaced with something softer. Somber. Subdued. The room mellowed out with it. Pairs either embracing closer, or falling apart and retreating back to the bar for refreshers.

The sax—it weeped. The bass was plucked at like a nervous tick. The shy brush against the high hats came in as if it was unsure of its welcome, but nonetheless continued on persistently at its turn. All of this had instantly weighed something fierce in him. His body gave in. His fingers almost let loose of his drink. Until the piano came in. The piano came in like fishing wire—hooked in at the core of him, drawing him taut and pulling him to his feet. There was no fighting the hold, so he let himself be reeled back to its caster.

Sat there at the keys was a vision in black velvet. A delicate cut of shoulder peeking out of a mink shawl. Rouge shiny at their lips and dusted at the high points of their cheeks. The siren, god, they played like a whisper. Like a secret long coveted and longing to be shared. And Steve wanted to be so badly its keeper, that he didn’t wait for the coda. He couldn’t. He could steal a bottle of extra dry. He could pour two glasses. He could very well perch himself opposite of the pianist in quick, silent appreciation until they take notice. But patience, he could never do. Nor coy.

“They’re the fools, you know.” He said.

“Who?” Asked the pianist, without a look his way.

Their voice was sweet and potent—refreshing, like a mint julep. And Steve was reminded of last years dog days, browning his shoulders and blushing his cheeks, as he went warm all over and thirsty. Then a strand of decadent brown curls fell from its up-do and Steve had smarted up, reaching out to softly brush it from the pianist’s porcelain shoulder.

“Everyone in this room who’s not watching you play.” Steve said quickly.