#even intentionally limiting it to ones that make me laugh

[jjjjisun]

Asa and her family will help her move to her new apartment in Seoul, near her job as a member of the girl group BABYMONSTER. Since the car will be packed with her items, she will sit on her brother’s lap throughout the 2-hour trip.

With Asa In The Backseat

Asa X Male Reader | 3485 words

TW: Incest

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The vintage sedan that had seen better days was crammed like a tin of sardines. The backseat, meant for two, was now occupied by four: me, my younger sister Asa, and all her clothes and baggage. Our parents had insisted on bringing an oversized painting, leaving barely any legroom for us. Asa, perched on my lap, was the only one who seemed unbothered by the tight space.

Asa's head rested on my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck. She was small and petite, but her weight was solid on my thighs. I shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, but the car's interior was as unyielding as our situation.

"I can't feel my feet," I muttered, wiggling my toes in my boots. Asa giggled, her breath warm on my ear.

"You're such a Daddy's Girl," she teased. "Can't even sit cramped for a few hours."

I squeezed her side, making her laugh louder. "And you're a little brat," I retorted. "Now, lift your butt so I can adjust."

Asa pouted but did as she was told, lifting herself just enough for me to readjust my legs. I stretched them out as much as the space allowed, feeling relieved. But as Asa settled back down, her weight landed differently this time, the crack of her butt pressing directly onto something unexpected.

I froze, my eyes widening. Asa, oblivious, started chatting with Mom again, her voice filling the car and the engine's hum. I tried to ignore the sudden throb, the heat building in my core. This was wrong. Asa was my little sister, off-limits in every sense of the word. But my body wasn't getting the memo. I tried to think of anything else, anything cold, anything that wasn't Asa's soft curves pressed against me.

But Asa shifted again, her head tilting slightly, her breath ghosting against my neck. I could feel her pulse, rapid and steady, against my chest. Her hair smelled like strawberries, a scent I hadn't noticed before. The car was suddenly stifling, the air thick with an unseen tension.

"Back off, Asa," I whispered, harsher than intended. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, but there was a flicker of something else, something that mirrored the heat I was feeling.

"Not until we get to the cabin," she whispered back, a small smile on her lips. She knew. She knew the effect she was having on me and wasn't stopping.

I leaned back, my eyes closed, trying to shut out the world. This was going to be a long drive.

I took out my phone, the screen casting a pale blue light in the dark car, and started scanning through my social media feeds—anything to distract myself from the warmth spreading through me, from Asa's weight on my lap. Asa, however, wasn't so eager to distract herself. She sat up slightly, her hands busy with her phone, but her body remained intentionally close.

"Hey, children." Dad's voice cut through my distraction. He might be looking in our direction even though the painting was blocking his view. “We're about to hit a bumpy road," he warned. “So, hold on to your seats."

I groaned internally. Hold on, like I wasn't already clinging to my sanity with Asa's butt on my throbbing erection. I tucked my phone away, bracing myself for the upcoming bumps. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief in the dim light. She knew. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

The car hit the first bump, jostling us all. Asa's weight shifted forward, her bottom pressing harder against my lap. I sucked in a breath, my hips lifting slightly on their own accord, seeking more friction. Asa gasped, her head tilting back, her chest pressing against my hands that were gripping her hips.

"Asa," I hissed, my voice low and federated, "Stop moving."

But she didn't stop. She wiggled her hips slightly, her body soft and pliant against mine. "I-I can't help it," she stammered, but her voice was breathy and distinctly turned on. The road is so bumpy."

I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her heart pounding against mine. Mom and Dad focused on the road, not paying us any mind. I took a chance, my hands sliding up Asa's sides, my thumbs brushing against the underside of her breasts. She moaned loudly, and I froze, my eyes darting to the front of the car.

"Asa, is everything alright back there?" Mom asked, concern etched in her voice.

I could see Asa's face flush red, her eyes wide with surprise. "Y-Yeah, Mom," she stuttered, "Just, uh, the road is bumpy. It's uncomfortable."

I looked down at her, my eyes meeting hers. She was turned on. Her pupils dilated, her lips slightly parted. She was enjoying this, the friction, the heat, the risk. I could feel my shaft hardening even more, pressing painfully against my jeans. This was going to be a long, bumpy ride.

The car corrected its path, and the road was smooth beneath its tires. But my body was still alive with the memories of the bumpy ride, my belly a whirlwind of coiled tension. Asa, still perched on my lap, seemed equally affected. Her breaths were short and shallow, her body pressed flush against mine. My hands, which had stilled during the conversation with Mom, resumed their exploration, my thumbs tracing circles on her midriff.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with arousal. Asa nodded, her head tilting to give me better access to her neck. I took the invitation, my lips pressing against her soft skin, my tongue tasting the saltiness of her. Asa moaned softly, her body arching slightly, pushing her bottom further against my throbbing erection.

"You're untouched, aren't you?" I said, my voice laced with desire. Asa chuckled, a sound that was more of a pant. "What makes you think that?" she challenged. I took her jaw and tilted her head to look at me. Her eyes were pools of desire, her cheeks flushed with heat. "Because you're reacting like you've never been touched before," I said, my thumb brushing against her bottom lip.

Asa's eyes fluttered closed, her mouth opening slightly, inviting me in. But the honk of a passing car brought us back to reality. I pulled back, my chest heaving. This was dangerous, too risky. We were in the car with our parents, for goodness' sake. I wanted Asa, yes, but not like this, not here.

I took out my phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. I opened a messaging app and started typing.

*Are you a virgin, Asa?*

I felt her shift slightly, her eyes moving to the screen. She took her phone out, her fingers flying over the screen. My phone buzzed with her reply.

*Why does that matter?*

I could feel the smile tugging at my lips. This was a dance, a game of cat and mouse. And I was enjoying it. I typed again.

*If you are, what happened in the car was highly inappropriate.*

I watched her read the message, and I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. She was enjoying this, too.

*Well, then, I guess I'm not a virgin. A cucumber claimed that honor long ago.*

I stared at the message, my brain processing the image that flashed through my mind. I could feel the heat in my core intensify, my shaft hardening painfully against my jeans. This did not help the situation.

I looked at Asa, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She knew what she was doing to me and was enjoying it. I leaned in, my lips brushing against her ear. "You're playing with fire, Asa," I warned. Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with irrepressible joy.

"And you're just the man to put out the flames, aren't you?" she whispered back, her body moving slightly, her bottom rubbing against me. I groaned, my hands gripping her hips tightly, trying to keep her still. This would be a long drive, even with the smooth road. Because Asa had awoken something within me, something I wasn't sure I could put back to sleep.

I shifted beneath Asa, my body aching for release. I could feel her heat, her wetness seeping through my jeans, and it was driving me to the brink of insanity. I needed more, needed to touch her without the fabric barrier.

"Asa," I whispered, my hands moving to her thighs, "Lift your butt for a moment."

She looked at me, her eyes clouded with desire. She understood what I wanted, and she wanted it too. Slowly, she lifted her body, her hands gripping my shoulders for support. I moved quickly, unbuttoning my jeans and pushing them down, taking my underwear with them. Asa mirrored my actions, her shorts and underwear joining mine in a heap on the floor of the car.

When she lowered herself, her heat met mine, her wetness coating my shaft. She gasped, her eyes widening as she felt me, fully naked and hard, pressing against her. I slid my hand between us, gripping my shaft and aligning it with her entrance. I looked at her, seeking her consent, and she nodded, her eyes so intense I felt like drowning in them.

I pushed forward, my hips lifting as I slid my length into her tight, wet cunt. Asa's mouth opened in a silent scream as I filled her, her nails digging into my shoulders. I paused, giving her time to adjust, feeling the walls of her cunt pulsing around me.

"Is this okay?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. She nodded, her eyes closed, her body trembling. "I-I think so," she whispered back. "You're so big, it's... it's a lot."

I began to move, slowly, my hips rolling in a rhythm as old as time. Her tightness was exquisite, her body accepting mine with an almost overwhelming receptivity. I felt my shaft bump against her cervix, and she moaned softly, her head tilting back, exposing the long line of her neck.

I leaned in, my lips capturing the pulse point, my tongue tasting her skin. I wanted to mark her, so I tried to claim her as mine. She gasped, her hips moving, meeting mine thrust for thrust. Our bodies moved in a dance as old as time, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating in sync.

We stayed like that, moving slowly and quietly, our bodies speaking a language that needed no words. I could feel the tension building in my core, the heat spreading through my limbs. I was close, so close. But I didn't want it to end, didn't want this moment to be over.

I slid my hand between us, my fingers finding her clit, circling it in slow, steady movements. Asa's breath hitched, her body stiffening. I could feel her, her cunt pulsing around me, her body teetering on the edge. I wanted her to fall, wanted to give her this pleasure.

"Come for me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. And she did, her body convulsing, her cunt squeezing me so tightly I saw stars. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release.

We stayed like that, our bodies connected, our breaths slowly returning to normal. I could feel the car moving beneath us, and I could hear the engine's hum, but all I could focus on was Asa, her body pressed against mine, her soft snores filling the car.

When she stirred, her eyes slowly opening, I leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. "I love you, Asa," I whispered, my heart full. She smiled, her eyes soft, and whispered, "I love you too, Oppa."

And at that moment, everything was right in the world.

The car slowed down, Dad's voice cutting through the soft hum of the engine. "Alright, kids, we're approaching the tunnel. It's a bit of a mess due to some construction up ahead, so hold on. It might get loud and bumpy."

Asa's eyes met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The dim glow of the setting sun casting shadows on her face heightened her features, making her look like a temptress. A sly smile curved her lips, and she turned, spinning around to face me, her knees resting on the seat beside my hips.

"What are you doing, Asa?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

"Shh, Oppa," she whispered back, placing a finger on my lips. "Dad said it's going to be loud, right? No one will hear us."

Her words sent a thrill down my spine, and my body was already reacting to her proximity. The car jolted slightly, signaling our entry into the tunnel. Darkness enveloped us, the only light coming from the dim glow of the car's dashboard. Asa leaned in, her lips finding mine. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, hungry and demanding.

I groaned, my hands moving to her hips, pulling her closer as she began to move, riding me like there was no tomorrow. Her breath hitched, her nails digging into my shoulders as she consumed me, her body moving in a frantic rhythm that matched the pounding of our hearts.

The tunnel was a symphony of sounds - the engine's hum, the construction's tap-tap-tap, our ragged breaths, and the soft, wet sounds of our bodies moving against each other. Asa's hands moved to the hem of her tank top, lifting it off her body swiftly. Her breasts, round and full, spilled out, her nipples hard and ready for my mouth.

I leaned down, capturing one of them, my tongue swirling around the hardening peak. Asa moaned, her hips moving faster, her body desperate for release. I could feel her, hot and wet around me, her body clenching tighter with each thrust. I switched to the other breast, my teeth grazing her nipple, making her gasp.

The car jostled again, the tunnel's construction creating unexpected bumps. Asa's body jerked, her nipple slipping out of my mouth. In my haste to reclaim it, my hand landed on the thin fabric of her tank top, ripping it in the process. Asa laughed, a throaty, wanton sound that went straight to my groin.

"I think you like destroying my clothes, Oppa," she teased, her fingers playing with the torn fabric.

"I think you like giving me reasons to," I countered, my hands moving to her breasts, my thumbs brushing against her nipples.

Asa's breath hitched, her body moving faster, her hips gyrating against me. I could feel the heat building in my core, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. I moved my hands to her thighs, spreading them wider, pushing into her deeper. Asa moaned, her head tilting back, her hair cascading down her back.

The car hit a huge bump, and Asa's body spasmed, her orgasm ripping through her. I followed her over the edge, my body jerking as I filled her, my shaft pulsing with my release. The car emerged from the tunnel, the bright sunlight stinging our eyes, but all I could see was Asa, her body trembling with satisfaction, her eyes soft and loving.

"That was... intense," I said, my voice hoarse.

Asa smiled, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "It is, Oppa," she replied, her voice soft and sweet. And I knew, in that moment, that no matter what, our life would always be intense moving forward.

The sudden burst of daylight from the tunnel exit temporarily blinded us, but our bodies were still alight with the passion we'd ignited. As the car settled back onto the smooth road, I looked at Asa, her chest heaving, her nipples still hard and glistening from my mouth. I wanted more, needed more. I wanted to feel her lips wrapped around my shaft, wanted to hear the sounds she made as she took me in.

"Turn around," I commanded, my voice low and filled with desire. Asa's eyes widened, but she complied, quickly turning so that her head rested on my lap, her back pressed against the seat. I could feel the heat radiating from her, could feel her breath ghosting against my still-hard shaft.

"What are you going to do to me, Oppa?" she asked, her voice laced with anticipation. I smiled, my hands moving to her midriff, my thumbs tracing the curve of her belly.

"I'm going to worship you, Asa," I said, my voice filled with reverence. "I'm going to taste every inch of you."

Asa shifted slightly, her body twitching with anticipation. I started at her navel, my tongue dipping into the indentation, tracing the lines of her abs. Asa gasped, her body tensing as I moved lower, my lips kissing the soft skin just above her pelvis. I could feel her watching me, her eyes filled with desire and trust. I wanted to make this good for her, tried to make it unforgettable.

I moved my hands to her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I lifted her slightly, positioning her so that her mouth was now level with my throbbing shaft. Asa looked at me, her lips parting slightly, and I almost came undone. She looked like a goddess, a temptress offering herself to me.

"Take me, Asa," I whispered, my voice harsh with desire. She leaned in, her tongue flicking out, licking the bead of pre-cum at my tip. I groaned, my hips jerking forward, seeking more. Asa smiled, her lips wrapping around my shaft, taking me in.

I nearly lost it. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue swirling around me, tasting me. I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back and make this last. I moved my hands to her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her moan around my shaft. The vibrations sent shockwaves through me, and I had to grip her hips to steady myself.

I moved my mouth lower, my tongue diving between her folds, tasting her. She was sweet, like honey, her body hot and wet and eager for me. I slid my tongue into her, feeling her body clench around me. Asa's movements on my shaft faltered, her body tensing as I pleasured her. I felt a thrill at being able to bring her to the edge of oblivion with just my mouth.

Suddenly, Asa's body jerked, her mouth slipping off my shaft as she gasped. I looked up, following her gaze, and saw a truck approaching. The driver had his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock as he took in the scene playing out in the backseat of our car. Asa and I froze, our eyes locked with the driver's as the truck passed.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, Asa burst into laughter, her body shaking with mirth. "Did you see his face?" she giggled, her body shaking against mine. I chuckled, my hands moving to her thighs, gripping them tightly.

"Looks like we put on quite the show," I said, my voice filled with amusement. Asa looked at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Let's give him an encore," she said, her mouth wrapping around my shaft again, her hands gripping the base tightly. I groaned, my hips lifting, thrusting my shaft deeper into her mouth.

I was close, my body tensing as I felt the heat building in my core. I wanted to come on her, mark her as mine. I moved my hands to her belly, my fingers splayed out as I felt her body clench around mine. She pulled my shaft out of her mouth, my hand wrapping around it, pumping it furiously. Asa watched me, her eyes wide and eager, her tongue sticking out, ready to catch my release.

I came with a groan, my body jerking as I spilled my seed onto her belly, coating her skin with my warmth. Asa's tongue darted out, licking the cum from her lips, her eyes never leaving mine. I smiled, my hand moving to her thigh, spreading the rest of my release onto her skin.

When the truck driver passed us again, this time going the other way, I turned, catching his eye. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the smile tugging at his lips. I winked at him, then turned back to Asa, my hands moving to her face, cupping her cheeks.

"I can’t believe a KPOP idol is mine," I whispered, my lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. And I knew, as we pulled away from each other, our bodies satiated and our hearts content, that this was just the beginning.

As the car pulled into the cabin's driveway, Asa and I looked at each other, silently understanding. Our taboo relationship was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

[millers-angel]

dust and dior bodyguard!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel is your bodyguard—strict, controlled, and off-limits. But keeping you safe starts to feel personal, and the line between duty and desire blurs. Just as tension rises, your father sends you to the countryside, far from luxury… but close to Joel, to his home. warnings: 'accidental' voyeurism, masturbation (both, joel and reader), joel has dirty thoughts about reader.

this is an extract from the story posted on ao3! you can read the whole chapter—and the ones to come—in here!

The house grew quieter as the night settled in. Joel sat in the dim glow of the television in his own room, mind elsewhere, thoughts heavier than usual. He wasn't really watching—just something to pass the time, to keep his mind from drifting too far into places it didn't belong.

But then, like clockwork, his eyes flicked toward your window.

He told himself he was only checking—making sure everything was fine, making sure you were fine. It was his job, after all.

The light in your bathroom had been on for a while, steam curling faintly against the glass. Then it flicked off, and a moment later, you walked back into your room, towel wrapped loosely around you, bare legs catching the glow of your bedside lamp.

Joel clenched his jaw, already knowing he should look away.

But he didn't.

He told himself it was just a bad habit. You never closed the curtains all the way—not intentionally, not teasingly. Just a careless mistake, one you didn't even know you were making—but surely he made sure he was the only one to know about it.

And yet, when you turned, reaching for something on your dresser, the towel slipped—slowly, effortlessly, peeling away from your body like silk.

It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last.

The curve of your waist, the slope of your spine, the way droplets traced down your thighs—it was enough to make his throat go dry, enough to stir something deep, something raw. You were too damn beautiful—every inch of you, and he couldn't make something to not feel as hard as he felt when you leaned to pick up the piece of fabric that fell from the drawer.

A wonderful view of your bare pussy.

Joel's breath stalled. His fingers pressed against his thigh, jaw locking so tight it ached.

He forced himself to turn away.

Too late. Always too late.

Joel forced his attention back to the television, but the images on the screen blurred together. His mind wasn't on whatever late-night rerun was playing. It was still caught on the glimpse he'd had of you, still tangled in the shape of your body, the memory of bare skin under the dim light of your room.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like it would do anything to push the thoughts away.

Minutes bled into an hour. He checked the time—almost midnight. Without thinking, his gaze drifted back toward your window.

You were lying in bed, scrolling through your phone, but something about the way you looked—shoulders slack, eyes dim—told him exactly what was on your mind. He knew you well enough by now. You were still thinking about your father, still letting his words sink in, digging into you like thorns.

Joel sat forward, elbows on his knees. A long sigh left his lips before he pushed himself up and made his way to the kitchen.

The pasta you barely touched was still there. He reheated it, pouring a glass of water to go with it, then made his way upstairs.

He knocked, a firm but quiet sound against the wood.

There was a pause, then soft footsteps before the door cracked open.

You stood there, brows pinched in mild confusion, eyes flicking down to the plate in his hands before looking back up at him. "What's this?"

Joel shifted his weight. "Told me you'd eat later. Never did." He lifted the plate slightly. "So I brought it back."

A breathy laugh escaped you. "It's late, Joel."

He was so close to saying he could grab you a bowl of cereal instead—he knew you liked to snack on that around this time—but instead, he only said, "Better late than not eating at all."

You rolled your eyes but took the plate. "You're persistent."

"Part of the job."

You sighed. "Thanks."

"I'll wait here so I can take the plate back to the kitchen, Miss."

He expected you to take it inside and shut the door, but instead, you leaned against the frame, tilting your head slightly. "If you want to make sure I eat, you should just come in and eat with me."

There was something playful in your tone, but the look in your eyes was something else—something warm, something dangerous.

Joel stiffened. "Can't do that."

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Why not?"

"Because it's..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "It's not right. It's—outside of boundaries, Miss."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, your fingers soft against his rough palm as you pulled him gently. "Just come inside, Joel."

He held his breath.

Your touch was warm. Softer than it had any right to be.

And then there was your face—your eyes looking up at him, so big and so deep, full of pleading and vulnerability, something he didn't want to acknowledge because the second he did, it would be real.

And yet—"I can't." His voice came quieter this time, rougher.

You tilted your head. "But do you want to?"

Joel didn't answer.

You laughed, a quiet, knowing little thing. Then, instead of stepping back inside, you lowered yourself onto the floor, right there in the hall.

Joel blinked. "What are you doing?"

You patted the space in front of you. "Sit with me."

"Can't."

"Joel." You pouted. "Please?"

And just like that, he was done for.

Joel sat down with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. Still, he thought of something else. "If you want, we can go to the table. Might be more comfortable."

You shook your head, smiling as you twirled your fork into the pasta. "I'm perfectly fine right here."

And so, you ate—small bites at first, slow, thoughtful, but soon enough, you were talking between them. Telling him how you'd been feeling off, how maybe it had to do with your father, but you weren't going to let it weigh you down forever. You had a plan to prove yourself to dad. You were going to talk to him, figure things out. There was something hopeful in the way you said it, a quiet determination that made Joel hold back any words that might be too much. He only nodded, listening, letting you work through it on your own.

Eventually, the conversation drifted, the heaviness fading. You joked, he smirked, and somewhere between it all, he found himself chuckling at something you said. It was easy—being here with you like this. Easier than it should have been.

When you finally finished your meal, you set the empty plate aside and looked at him with something soft in your eyes. "Thank you for bringing me dinner. You didn't have to, but... I really appreciate it."

Joel nodded, standing up and grabbing the plate and glass. "At your service." Then, a small pause before he added, "Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better."

You smiled. "You sleep too, okay? I'm just gonna brush my teeth and turn the light off."

Joel let out a quiet chuckle. "Alright, alright. Goodnight, Miss."

He took his time in the kitchen, washing the plate and cup before heading back to his own quarters. When he glanced toward your window again, the light was out. You were already asleep.

A quiet satisfaction settled in his chest.

You'd gone to bed well-fed. In a better mood than before.

And somehow, that made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

The next morning, Joel sat at the long wooden table with the other employees, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The morning had started like any other—quiet conversation, the sound of dishes clinking, the occasional chuckle over some shared story. But then, the cleaning ladies walked in, their voices hushed but carrying enough weight to shift the atmosphere.

"Tense morning," one of them murmured. "She's arguing with her father again in the dining room."

Joel didn't react, just took another sip of his coffee, but he listened.

"She always gives him trouble," the other added with a shake of her head. "Nothing gets through to her. She doesn't care about anything but herself."

"So spoiled. She's never had to work for anything."

Joel's grip tightened around his mug. They had no idea. They didn't see what he saw. They didn't know about the girl who had sat on the floor with him the night before, hopeful and determined, talking about how she would try to prove herself to her father. They didn't hear the way her voice had softened when she said she had a plan.

And now, hearing this—knowing that she was in there, probably fighting a losing battle—it makes him feel bad for you.

He glanced at the clock. It was time to work.

Pushing back his chair, he stood and left his empty cup behind. He walked toward the main part of the house but didn't step into the dining room where you and your father were. He kept his distance, standing where he could hear but not intrude. It wasn't his place. But the weight of the conversation made it hard to ignore.

"You don't know the first thing about running this company," your father said, his voice firm and edged with impatience. "That's why you ask stupid questions all the time."

"I do know!" you shot back. "I've spent my whole life around this, and I'm telling you—I won't do what I did yesterday ever again. I swear."

Your father let out a sharp breath, frustration laced in every syllable. "This isn't a game. This isn't like picking out a new dress or deciding where to go on vacation. This is my life's work. My money. The reason there's food on the table, a roof over your head." His voice grew colder. "The reason you can lift a finger and have someone already know what you want before you even ask."

The words were brutal. Unforgiving.

And Joel? He stood there, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides, listening.

Silence settled between you. Heavy. Uncomfortable. You stared down at the table, lips pressed together, hands curled into fists on your lap. The words sat on your tongue, but you weren't sure if saying them would even make a difference.

Finally, you lifted your gaze. "Please," you said, voice quieter now. "Just trust me. I won't let you down."

Your father exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before leveling you with a look that made your stomach drop. "If you don't take this seriously, I'll send you away. Maybe then you'll learn to appreciate what you have."

Your brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, voice clipped, "that I'll take everything from you. No more help. No more protection. No more easy way out. I'll make sure you understand what it's like to actually work for something. To value the money you throw away like it's nothing."

Your heart pounded. "You wouldn't—"

"I know about your plans for the summer," he cut you off. "Running off to Saint-Tropez, drinking on yachts, wasting time and money with people just as careless as you. But if you keep this up, I'll send you somewhere else instead. Not just for the summer, for a year."

Your stomach twisted.

"The countryside."

You blinked. "The countryside?"

"Yes," he said. "Where you'll spend your days shoveling animal shit, sweating under the sun—not because you've been shopping all day, but because you're actually working for once in your life."

Your throat tightened. "You wouldn't do it, daddy."

"You think I won't?" His tone was sharp. "You think I won't send you off to break your nails digging in the dirt until you finally understand how easy you've had it?"

Panic flared in your chest. "Please," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just trust me. I don't want to go. I can prove it to you—I swear."

"One more screw-up, and you're out of everything," your father warned, his voice firm, his gaze sharp.

You nodded quickly, your expression lighting up as if he hadn't just threatened to strip you of everything you had. "Thank you! You're the best dad in the world!" You jumped up from your seat, wrapping your arms around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Joel can only hear and a smile tugs at his lips... you're too sweet. Your father sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked down at you. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to it before meeting your gaze. "Don't disappoint me."

You shook your head. "I won't!"

"Did you like the breakfast?" you asked then, your voice softer. "I had them make it just for you. I know it's your favorite."

His lips barely lifted, more a twitch than a smile. "Yes. But I'm running late." He stood, adjusting his suit jacket and tie.

"Can I go with you?"

"Joel will take you. Gives you more time to get ready. I have a lot of meetings today."

You nodded, satisfied, and as he turned to leave, you called after him. "Have a good day, daddy!"

He didn't respond. He just kept walking.

Joel waited until the man was completely out of sight before stepping into the dining room. "Good morning, Miss," he greeted, same as always.

You grinned, waving him over in a hushed, conspiratorial way. He hesitated, then walked toward you, stopping beside your chair.

"It worked!" you whispered excitedly, practically vibrating in your seat. "My plan worked!"

Your father had spoken to you like you were incapable, like you weren't worth trusting, like he was still one step away from sending you to shovel shit in the countryside—but right now, you were beaming, like none of that had happened. Joel couldn't help it. The sight was endearing.

You bounced in your seat, grabbing his hands as if to ground your excitement. "Told you! I did it!"

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm glad," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Did you eat already?" you asked, tilting your head. "I can have someone bring you breakfast if you want."

"I already ate," he assured you. "But thank you."

You hummed, stretching your arms above your head. "I have to go to the office today."

Joel gave a small nod. "I know."

When you finished your breakfast, you left to get ready, disappearing into your room. It wasn't long before you stepped out again, looking like you had spent all night thinking about what to wear just in case your father let you go back to the company.

You were breathtaking. Professional but youthful, the kind of put-together that still felt effortless, like you were born to wear expensive clothes. It was modest but undeniably alluring, everything fitting you in a way that made it impossible not to notice.

Joel clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes away as he stepped forward, guiding you outside. He opened the back door of his truck, waiting for you to step in before shutting it gently behind you. Then, without a word, he slid into the driver's seat and pulled out of the estate, heading straight for the company's offices.

Joel accompanied you inside the company building, keeping a professional distance as always. You walked with confidence, carrying yourself with the kind of grace that demanded attention, but even so, it was clear that no one truly took you seriously. They acknowledged you, not out of respect for your work, but because you were the owner's daughter. It wasn't fear, exactly, but an understanding that your presence meant they had to watch their words—at least when you were around.

Still, you stole every glance in the room, your presence magnetic, impossible to ignore. You were effortlessly captivating, a striking contrast against the stiff, corporate world around you. But despite how composed you were, the whispers never stopped.

"Pretty face, empty head."

"She's just here to play dress-up."

"Bet she'd be easy."

Joel heard it all. He had been leaning against the wall outside your office when a few of the company men had gathered nearby, their conversation low but not low enough. He kept his head down, focusing on his hands, but the way his jaw clenched gave him away. Then, when those same men left their little huddle and approached you, suddenly all smiles and politeness, he barely held back a scoff.

He didn't move at first, just watched as they stepped out of your office after making whatever weak attempt at charming you they thought would work. But once the door clicked shut behind them, he straightened, stepping into their path. His voice was calm when he spoke, but there was no mistaking the warning beneath his words.

"Gentlemen."

The men stiffened at the unexpected attention. Joel didn't need to raise his voice. The way he held himself—the way he looked at them—was enough to make his point.

"If I were you, I'd watch what I say next time."

There was no need to say more. They knew exactly what he meant.

Inside, you worked diligently throughout the day. You weren't perfect, of course. You made small mistakes, miscalculated things here and there, but you were learning, and more importantly, you were trying. By the time the day ended, you were exhausted but satisfied, feeling a rare sense of accomplishment from your efforts.

Joel drove you home, listening as you told him about your day. There was something different in your voice now—lighter, more confident. You weren't dwelling on the difficulties or the gossip; you were focusing on what you had managed to do, however small. And he was genuinely happy to hear it. You looked better than you had last night, and that was good.

That evening, you sat down to eat dinner alone. Unlike the night before, though, you actually ate, and when Joel passed by, you waved him over.

"Sit with me," you insisted.

"I can't," he said, standing by the table. "It's against the rules."

"Who cares?" you huffed. "Daddy doesn't care if you eat with me. And I want you to."

You looked up at him with those big, wide eyes, impossibly persuasive, your voice soft as you added a quiet, "Please?"

Joel was not easily swayed, but something about the way you said it made it impossible to refuse. With a reluctant sigh, he sat down across from you. You had someone to bring him dinner to the table.

As you ate, you watched him for a moment before giggling. "You eat weird."

Joel smirked, shaking his head. "That's how we eat where I'm from."

"And where's that?" you asked, tilting your head.

"A little town in Texas—" he named a place so rural it might as well have been on another planet compared to the world you knew. A place of open fields, cattle, and the kind of hard work you had never been exposed to.

Your eyes widened slightly. "Do you go back for the holidays?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you like it better there or here?"

Joel didn't hesitate. "There. It's home."

You leaned forward slightly. "Do you have somewhere to stay when you go?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I go to my brother's ranch—well, ours. We grew up there. I had to leave for a while, to make money, to put back into it. But it's still there."

You hummed, processing his words, but before you could ask anything else, he took another bite of his food, effectively ending that conversation.

And somehow, sitting there with him, eating dinner like this, you didn't mind.

You took a small sip of your lemonade, then, as if deciding to steer the conversation somewhere lighter, you smiled. "I made friends at work today."

Joel's expression shifted almost instantly. His brows furrowed slightly, and he set his fork down, his jaw tightening just a little. He knew exactly which "friends" you were talking about—the same men who had been calling you easy behind your back. He had already informed your father about everything—it's his job.

You, however, looked genuinely happy. Excited, even. It wasn't often that you talked about something with this much enthusiasm, and for a moment, he debated whether or not to tell you. But he had a job to do, and part of that job was making sure you didn't walk blindly into situations that could hurt you—physically or otherwise.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "They're not your friends, Miss."

Your smile faltered. "What?"

Joel leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice even. "I heard them talking about you today. Before they knew I was standing there." His jaw tightened. "They weren't sayin' anything good."

Confusion flickered across your face, but then you straightened in your seat, crossing your arms. "What did they say?"

Joel hesitated, debating how much to actually repeat. "Bad things."

"What things?" You asked. "Please, I want to know..."

"That you're just a pretty face. That you don't know what you're doing and that everyone in that office knows it." He watched your expression carefully, waiting for the realization to settle in.

Silence.

Your grip tightened around your glass, your shoulders tensing. You blinked a few times, processing his words, before finally looking down at your plate.

Joel sighed, lowering his voice. "I'm telling you this because you need to know who you can trust. People aren't always nice just because they mean it, Miss. Sometimes they just want somethin'."

You swallowed hard, forcing a breath through your nose. "I see."

Joel hated how small your voice sounded. He knew it wasn't fair, knew how hard you had worked today, how much you wanted to prove yourself. And for what? Just to have people dismiss you the second you turned your back?

He tapped his fingers against the table before reaching for his glass. "You did good today," he told you. "Don't let a bunch of assholes take that away from you."

You nodded, still not looking at him, and took another sip of your lemonade. The excitement from earlier had dimmed, but Joel knew you weren't defeated. If anything, he could see the quiet determination setting in.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He waited as you stood there, hesitating before your room. Then, as if remembering something, you turned back to him.

"Is my dad coming home soon?"

Joel shook his head. "Late. But if it's about what they said earlier..." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know I have to tell him everything. He already knows."

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly. "Everything?"

He nodded once.

A pause stretched between you, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, you sighed. "Alright. Good night, Joel."

He gave a small nod in return, watching as you stepped toward your room—only to stop at the door. You lingered, then turned back, your steps slower this time as you walked toward him.

Joel straightened, eyeing you with quiet confusion.

"Do you really tell him everything?" you asked, head tilting slightly.

Another nod.

Your lips curled just a little, playful now. "Even when I bring someone home? When a guy stays over?"

Joel didn't answer this time. He didn't even look at you.

You reached for him, hands soft against his jaw, gently tilting his face toward you. His fingers wrapped around your wrists—not rough, just firm enough to stop you.

But you didn't pull away. Neither did he.

For a brief second, you felt it—the warmth of his skin, the strength in his grip, the way his breath got heavier. You liked it. And so did he.

"Tell me," you whispered. "Do you tell him that too?"

His voice was low, strained. "Go to your room."

"No," you murmured, eyes locked onto his. "Not until you answer me."

Joel finally met your gaze, and that was a mistake.

Because you were looking at his lips.

And for a split second, it made him forget himself. Made him forget everything. The only thing in his head was the unbearable temptation to close the space between you.

To take. To give in.

He nearly did.

He nearly scooped you from the floor and took you to your bed like a rag doll.

"Answer me," you murmured, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

Joel's grip on your wrists tightened just slightly before he gave a single nod.

You gasped. "But sometimes I sneak them in the house!"

"I know."

You laughed, quiet and amused. "You're such a snitch."

Before he could react, you lifted yourself onto his boots, bare feet pressing against the leather. The sudden shift made him tense, muscles locking as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt for balance.

His voice was steady, low. "I'm not a snitch."

You raised a brow, teasing.

Joel's expression remained serious. "They're your father's orders, Miss."

"But that's private."

"Not if you can be in danger," he almost snapped. "We have to make sure you're safe, and some boys—they can hurt you."

You bit your lip. "Am I safe with you?"

He didn't answer, just swallowed, and you could see it in the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

Your smile widened. "You're not gonna push me off?"

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. His hands found your waist, firm but careful as he tried to ease you back down.

But you only laughed again, fingers tightening around his collar, holding onto him. "That's not gonna work."

"This isn't right," Joel said, firmer now. "Get down. For real."

"No."

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he drawled.

"Good," you teased him, biting your lip.

He huffed, shaking his head, and without another word, his fingers brushed against your sides, just barely—enough to make you jolt. A sharp inhale left your lips as you squirmed, startled by the ticklish sensation.

"Joel—!"

He did it again, this time more intentional, making you break into soft, breathless laughter as you wriggled in his grasp. Finally, with a reluctant huff, you let go, stepping off his boots.

You smoothed down your dress, catching your breath, and looked up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "Still a snitch, though. I don't think I can trust you anymore."

Joel shook his head. "I only tell him what other people do, or the people you're with... not... personal things."

You gave him a knowing look. "Sure. Whatever you say." You turned toward your room, flashing him one last playful grin. "Good night, snitch."

Joel exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. And once you were out of sight, when he was sure you couldn't see him—he laughed. Just a little.

"She's trouble,"

read the whole chapter on ao3!♡ —and the ones that will come!

[the-fandom-crossroads]

Alright I caved and I'm actually going to talk about the live action HTTYD trailer.

I'm annoyed at all the things others have already mentioned but there is one thing that makes me angry while also making me laugh at the same time. In a "how is this a struggle they are still dealing with 15 years later" sort of way.

This attempt to get Toothless to "sit".

I know most of you didn't grow up a httyd nerd watching the director commentaries of the original movie. But I did and I can tell you they called this one of the hardest bits of animation they pulled off with the models in this film.

Rigging models in animation are intentionally well rigid. Animators intentionally code in limits so limbs aren't doing unnatural movements everytime something glitches out. Watch the Shrek bloopers for nightmare fuel examples of why animators started rigging in limits to limbs and even face muscles.

So these limits exist and in httyd's time you couldn't just turn off those rules for the model when ever you wanted. So they had to fight the limits they put in place while trying to keep the movement looking natural.

You obviously can't see it from this angle. But they removed his right wing from the model. Once it drops behind his head it is gone. Because it was just another thing to keep track of that wasn't needed in the shot.

I laugh at the live action because they are clearly running into the same Rigging limitations that come with using a CGI model. But unlike the animated movie they aren't pushing the limits of the rigging to have Toothless sit upright.

No to keep it more "natural" they have it be an awkward shuffle back. They decided not letting his tail bend like that was more important than the whole point of the scene. Which is that he is mimicking Hiccup's body language.

This and the Eye pupil shot tell me all I need to know about this remake.

That they are willing to get rid of key details that helped us feel the connection between Toothless and Hiccup if it means a more "realistic" feel for the movie. Which is going to lead to us feeling more distant from these characters compared to their animated counter parts.

So yeah that "cold soulless" feeling isn't just nostalgia. It's an intentional part of their attempt to make a httyd "in the real world". And tells me I'm just going to be disappointed by this remake. So join me June 2025 as I pop in my 15 year old httyd dvd for a rewatch.

Because no matter what this remake does the original will always bring me joy.

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey guys! It's all crazy and to top it off I'm still sick, I'm getting better thanks to teas and Advil. But here I am...

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

Warning: +18, smut, anal play, impregnation fetish, degradation, jealousy Wanda

Summary: You find out what happens when you're pushed to the limit

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

SHINE

Morning arrived gently, like a whisper only the skin could hear. Light filtered through the curtains, painting shadows and shapes in golden tones across the rumpled sheets. The room smelled of warmth, a faint floral perfume, and something unmistakably Wanda.

Your body was still wrapped in the haze of sleep, but awareness began to surface in waves, carrying with it the presence of the woman beside you. A barefoot touch grazed yours, warm and subtle, as if seeking something more profound than a simple connection: a silent promise of closeness.

Wanda’s nose brushed the curve of your neck, a simple yet devastating gesture. You could feel her rhythmic, tranquil breath, spreading like a caress across your skin. The soft texture of the sheets contrasted with the comforting weight of her arm draped over your waist, holding you as if fearing the dawn might steal the privilege of having you there.

It was in these quiet moments that everything felt different. The lightness that love brought wasn’t an escape but a new weight—one you carried gladly. The fine line between what was her and what was you seemed to blur, like the light filtering through the curtains, merging day and night.

Wanda shifted slightly, pressing her lips to the space between your neck and shoulder—a kiss that felt like a signature on your skin, a reminder that you belonged to her.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the warmth of your breath against the pillow. “Are you awake?” you murmured, your voice rough from sleep.

“Maybe,” came the whispered, humor-laden response, her tone magnetic as ever.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Staring at me again?”

“As if it’s a crime,” Wanda replied, her fingers trailing lightly along your waist—delicate but firm.

“Flirting with me before eight in the morning,” you teased, turning in bed to face her. Your eyes met hers—green like a sunlit meadow.

“I’m entitled,” she said, leaning closer. The gentle touch of your noses was followed by the soft pressure of her lips against yours, a kiss that held everything: the tenderness of the night, the warmth of the day, and the promise of everything to come.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of bread toasting in the kitchen as you assembled the twins’ lunches at the counter. Tommy and Billy sat at the table, eyes still half-closed, already bickering over who could finish the orange juice first.

Wanda entered the kitchen, her hair slightly tousled, with an expression of pure morning laziness that only made her more irresistible. You felt her presence before you saw her—a warmth that seemed to fill the room.

“What’s your plan for the day, professor?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you spread butter on Billy’s toast.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes sparkling with a kind of intimacy that made the world feel closer. “The usual,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s so dull going to work and not seeing your face. Did you know I only took that job to see you?”

You laughed, stepping closer with an intentionally loaded look. “Miss intimidating me in your office?”

Her voice turned naturally seductive as she leaned just slightly toward you. “You have no idea how much.”

Her hand rose to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers moving with calculated tenderness. There was an electric charge in the exchange, a tension that seemed to absorb even the muffled laughter of the twins in the background.

“Eww! No kissing!” Tommy interrupted with exaggerated indignation, making Billy burst into laughter.

You and Wanda pulled back with knowing smiles, though the playful glint in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Ah, puberty...” Wanda sighed, feigning resignation as she turned to the boys.

“Mom, don’t tell me you never thought it was gross when your parents kissed,” Tommy shot back with a grimace.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, already prepared with a sharp retort. “Of course, I did. But look at me—I survived. Love doesn’t kill, Tommy. Neither does a little romance.”

“Maybe boredom does,” Billy added, laughing and earning a high-five from his brother.

You watched the scene with a serene smile, handing the finished lunches to the boys. “Come on, eat quickly. You’re almost late,” you said, though your voice carried the lightness of someone who was home.

As the boys dashed off to grab their backpacks, Wanda turned her gaze to you, the earlier intensity returning.

“One day, they’ll understand,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“If they don’t, oh well,” you teased, smiling as you returned the affection. “They’ll have to deal with it, because, sorry, I’m addicted to you.”

Wanda laughed, the sound light and filled with a love that made the day begin just right. “And I’m addicted to you,” she whispered as the boys’ hurried footsteps echoed through the house.

The clock read 10:37 AM when you finally found a moment to pause at work. The teacher’s lounge was quiet, except for the soft clicking of keys in the background. The air smelled of stale coffee, and you took the opportunity to pour yourself a cup. The morning had been intense but rewarding—your students were finally beginning to grasp Whitman’s poetry.

You were about to sit down when Maria Hill walked in. Her deliberate, measured steps immediately drew your attention. The last time you crossed paths had been during a board meeting, and even then, you exchanged little more than a formal nod. Today, however, she seemed determined to speak with you.

"Professor," she began, her voice carrying a casual tone that felt too practiced to be genuine. "It seems your class is one of the most talked about this semester."

You looked up, studying her face. There was something difficult to decipher there—a contrast between professional composure and something far more personal.

"I'm just trying to keep things interesting," you replied with a polite smile, doing your best to ignore the faint unease her presence stirred within you.

Maria leaned against the counter, arms crossed in a posture that appeared relaxed, though her gaze remained fixed on you, observing every detail. "Interesting is an understatement. Some teachers spend years trying to make that kind of impact."

You knew it was a compliment, but the way she said it sounded... odd. As if there were layers beneath her words that remained unspoken.

"It's part of the job," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

Maria smiled—a small, enigmatic expression that hinted at something veiled beneath the surface. "Have you always been like this? Passionate about what you do?"

The question caught you off guard. Before you could answer, her eyes narrowed slightly, as though analyzing more than just your words.

"Are you asking if I’ve always wanted to teach?" you asked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Not exactly," Maria said, her tone lowering, becoming softer. "I mean... have you always been like this? Strong? Resilient?"

You paused, feeling the weight of her question. The way she spoke stirred old memories—ones you preferred to keep buried. Times when you had no choice but to be strong, to endure, to survive.

Before you could respond, Maria pressed on, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, but carrying an emotional weight that felt more personal than professional. "Not everyone can turn the scars of their past into something... powerful."

"Do you have kids?" you asked abruptly, steering the conversation away from uncomfortable territory.

"Two," you answered, a softer expression crossing your face as you thought of Billy and Tommy. Just the thought of them brought a brief, calming reprieve.

"They’re lucky," Maria murmured, her voice gentle but with an undercurrent of something more complex. "Lucky to have someone like you looking out for them."

“Your husband must be proud,” she added, the statement sounding casual, though her eyes watched you intently, studying your reaction with what could only be described as calculated curiosity.

"I'm not… married to a man," you replied evenly, though you felt a warmth creeping up your neck at the subtle shift in the conversation.

Maria tilted her head slightly, absorbing your words with a careful consideration. A faint smile touched her lips—not one of surprise, but of quiet understanding, as if you’d just confirmed something she’d long suspected.

"Not married to a man," she repeated slowly, each word deliberate, precise. "Interesting."

The weight of her gaze was palpable, almost tangible, like an invisible pressure pressing against you. Her eyes never wavered, and the intensity of her scrutiny made it hard to breathe.

"And your wife… or partner?" Maria continued, her voice dropping to a lower register, each word laden with significance. "Does she understand who you are? Everything you’ve been through?"

You took a step back, feeling an all-too-familiar tightness in your chest. Maria had a way of asking questions that cut deeper than they should, as though she could peel back layers of your soul with little more than a glance. Whether she intended to or not, it left you feeling exposed.

"She understands what matters," you said firmly, striving to maintain your composure. "And that’s enough."

Maria took a step closer, and the air around you seemed to shift. There was nothing overtly threatening about the movement, yet her proximity felt overwhelming, as though each step carried an unspoken intent. Her presence was suffocating, each motion precise, calculated to unsettle you.

"Does she?" Maria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I remember a version of you who didn’t have anyone. Who was alone. Vulnerable. And I wonder…"

Her words trailed off, but the impact lingered, each syllable like a key turning in a lock you desperately wanted to keep shut.

"I wonder if that part of you still exists," she continued softly, her tone almost gentle, yet with an undercurrent of sharpness, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. "If there’s still something inside you that misses it—being pushed. Being tested. Being forced to the edge."

Her proximity was unbearable, her warmth pressing against you like a physical force. Her voice, low and steady, seemed to sink into your bones, coaxing out thoughts you’d buried long ago. You tried to take a steadying breath, but it felt as though the very air had been siphoned from the room.

Your nose prickled—a familiar, unwelcome sensation—and you felt the warmth of blood trickling down. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your face, recoiling slightly as you pulled back to see the crimson smear on your fingertips.

Maria’s gaze followed your movements, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of blood. For a fleeting moment, her expression shifted—something crossed her features that you couldn’t quite place. Fascination? Concern? It was gone too quickly to tell. But there was a gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something primal, like she understood more about what was happening to you than you did.

"Are you alright?" Maria asked, her voice carefully controlled, yet carrying a weight that felt almost predatory.

"I'm fine," you said quickly, though your voice trembled slightly. The pounding in your head intensified, each beat reverberating like a drum. Waves of pain radiated outward, distorting your vision and making it hard to focus.

"Are you?" Maria pressed, taking another step toward you. "You don’t look fine. In fact… you look like you’re about to break."

Her words carried a strange satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for this—for you to unravel, for your control to slip.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice returned, insidious and relentless. Your parents’ mantra echoed in your mind, weaving itself into your consciousness like a thread you couldn’t untangle.

"Y/N?" Maria’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. It snapped you back to the present, anchoring you to reality for a fleeting moment.

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision. Maria stood closer now, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on invasive. There was something predatory in her gaze—something that made you feel like prey trapped in a hunter’s sights.

"I said I’m fine," you repeated, taking another step back. But your body betrayed you, trembling under the strain. It was as if an electric current pulsed beneath your skin, wild and untamed, begging for release.

Maria tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "No, you’re not. You’re burning from the inside out. I can see it."

Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for you to reach this breaking point. Waiting for the cracks in your façade to show.

You are our sun.

Shine for the world.

The pounding in your head grew louder, the mantra intertwining with the pain, with the memories you’d fought so hard to bury. Your vision blurred again, and the room spun, but the voice remained crystal clear.

Maria tilted her head, observing you intently. “You don’t look well. In fact, you look… ready to explode.”

There was something in her voice—a touch of barely concealed satisfaction. As if she had been waiting for this, waiting to see how far you’d go before breaking.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The dizziness worsened, the ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. Then, for an instant, you saw something—a flickering image in your mind like a broken reflection. Light. A golden glow radiating from you, warm and relentless.

You stumbled, leaning against the nearest wall. “I just… need to get out of here.”

You left the room, holding your nose—blood dripping hot between your fingers, unstoppable. Your vision wavered with every step, the world around you distorting as if it were unsteady. The sound of your own shoes against the floor felt muffled, distant, while the pain in your head throbbed relentlessly, a pounding drum deep in your mind.

Every step toward the car felt monumental. The pain spread, no longer confined to your head, but racing down your spine, burning like a line of fire. Sharp stabs concentrated behind your eyes, stealing your breath. Your knees threatened to give out, and you clung to anything nearby, seeking balance.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice was incessant now, growing louder, as if merging with the pain itself. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to make sense of it. But it was impossible. Everything was too much—the blood, the pain, the suffocating echo of the words.

When you finally reached your car, your hands trembled so much that you couldn’t find the keys. The dizziness worsened, and the world began to spin. You leaned against the car door, breathing deeply, but the oxygen refused to reach your lungs.

In that moment, that second of pure desperation, you heard something. A different voice. More real.

“Y/N?”

Lifting your eyes with difficulty, you saw Wanda. She was standing at the doorway to the house, her face a mask of worry. You tried to say something, but your voice failed. The pain was unbearable now, a knife buried deep in your mind.

In an instant, Wanda was by your side. Her red magic shimmered around you, and before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly into her arms.

“Wanda, I…” You tried to speak, but the world was spinning so fast it felt like it was collapsing.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t talk. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

As Wanda carried you inside, her touch resonated within you. But there was something more. You realized she was feeling the pain too, sharing it in some way. Her face was tense, as though every step was a struggle.

“It’s burning me,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and pain. “What’s happening to you?”

You wanted to respond, to explain, but you had no answers. All that remained was the pain, the blood, and the voice that continued to whisper.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

When you reached the living room, Wanda set you down gently on the couch, her gaze drifting over the blood still dripping from your nose. Her eyes were filled with tears she was holding back through sheer willpower.

“I’ll take care of you,” she said firmly, but you saw the fear behind her words. “I promise.”

As she placed her hand on your forehead, trying to channel her magic to ease your pain, all you could feel was the unbearable weight of that voice. And for the first time, you feared it might be right. That you needed to shine—but at what cost?

The weight was crushing when you opened your eyes. The room was cloaked in shadows, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains, painting soft lines on the floor. Your entire body ached as if it had been crushed by something invisible, but you knew you had to get up.

With effort, you swung your feet onto the floor, trying to find your balance, but the world spun. The dizziness was overwhelming, and your shaky steps betrayed your weakness.

Before you could take more than two steps, the door abruptly opened. Wanda entered, carrying a tray of food, her eyes immediately locking onto you, filled with worry and irritation.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Her voice was firm, a command that cut through the air. “Lie down.”

You tried to protest, but she was already by your side, guiding you back to the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with her authoritative tone. She adjusted the pillows behind you and placed the tray on your lap, filled with hot soup, bread, and a glass of water.

“You’re going to eat this, and then rest. I don’t want to hear another word about getting up.”

Her manner was almost maternal, but the intensity in her eyes revealed something deeper: concern, love, and an almost desperate need to protect you.

When you finished eating, Wanda took the tray and pulled a chair close to your bedside. She held your hand, her fingers stroking yours. Her voice was softer when she finally asked:

“Now tell me… What happened?”

You hesitated, but her gaze didn’t allow for evasion. Sighing, you began to speak.

“It was Maria. The school principal. Today, at work. She… approached me.”

Wanda’s face immediately hardened, but she remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“She started talking about the past. About who I used to be under her authority. I… I don’t know how to explain it, Wanda. Something she said threw me off, and my head started pounding.”

You felt Wanda’s gaze intensify, but the words kept flowing, like a painful confession.

“She humiliated me back in high school, pushed me in ways I didn’t understand. I hated it, but at the same time… I liked it. Liked the way she was cruel to me. Like there was power in it, something that made me feel alive in a strange, twisted way.”

The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of your uneven breathing. Wanda remained still, but the magic around her began to pulse in soft red hues, like a racing heartbeat.

“Today, she did it again,” you continued, your voice trembling. “She got close, so close I could smell her. She asked about my life, pressed me with that tone that made me want to disappear. And I… I felt like I did back then. Small and insecure. I couldn’t react. My body just… gave in.”

Wanda’s green eyes were locked on yours now, and you saw something in them that made you shiver: anger, jealousy, and an intensity that seemed capable of setting the world ablaze.

“You’re telling me,” Wanda began, her voice low and controlled but electric with tension, “that this woman… thinks she has any claim over you?”

You tried to speak, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“Thinks she can pressure you, humiliate you, and get away with it?” The veins at her temples were visible now, her magic flickering around her fingers like flames.

“Wanda, I—”

“No.” She stood, her power surging around her, almost tangible in the air. “You are mine. And no one, absolutely no one, has the right to do this to you. Not Maria. Not anyone.”

The weight of her declaration hung between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether to feel fear, relief, or both. All you knew was that despite her intensity, Wanda’s presence was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality in that moment.

With a rough gesture, Wanda grabbed your chin to make you look at her.

The air seemed to vibrate with Wanda’s energy, charged with emotions you could barely process. Her power was there, pulsing beneath the surface, illuminating the room in crimson hues like a storm about to erupt. The question hung between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her voice was low, but there was something dangerous in it, something that made your heart race. Her grip on your chin wasn’t gentle; it was possessive. Wanda held you as if the mere act of looking away would be an unforgivable offense.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. All you could do was feel—her overwhelming presence, the heat radiating from her, the knot forming in your throat as you struggled to process everything.

“Answer me.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, her green eyes blazing like fire. “Did you like what Maria did to you?”

Did you know the answer wasn’t simple? Nothing about this was simple. Part of you wanted to deny it, to walk away from this conversation, but another part... the part Wanda seemed to see so clearly... knew there was no escape.

“I…” Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in your throat. “I hated it. And... at the same time…”

Wanda tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, focused on every nuance of your words.

“Go on. Keep talking.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to summon strength. But all you could see was red — the red of her magic, the red of her anger, the red that seemed to color every thought in your mind.

“Part of me liked it because... because it reminded me,” you finally admitted, each word an effort. “Reminded me of how I used to feel. Of who I used to be.”

Wanda’s expression hardened, and you saw the pain your words caused. But she didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she stepped even closer, until your faces were nearly touching, her breath warm against your skin.

“And do you miss that?” The question came low, almost a growl.

You shook your head quickly. “No. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“Then why did you let it happen?” Her tone was merciless, but there was a vulnerability buried in it, a fear she couldn’t quite hide.

“Because I’m broken,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Because part of me still believes I deserve it.”

Wanda exhaled slowly, as though trying to contain her fury. Her fingers slid to your neck, pressing lightly, as if she wanted to feel your racing pulse beneath your skin.

“You don’t deserve that,” she said at last, her voice softer, yet still full of intensity. “You never did. You were young, weak… Maybe you still are, aren’t you? Of course, you’d let her have some kind of control over you.”

Wanda tilted her head, her fingers still firm around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel the rapid beating of your heart. Her eyes never left yours, piercing, as if she wanted to strip away every secret you still hid.

“You see yourself as a victim,” Wanda murmured, almost with disgust. “A puppet anyone can manipulate. But do you know what I see?”

You swallowed hard, your entire body on alert, every cell vibrating under her touch. “What?”

“I see a woman who needs to be broken in a different way.”

The tension in the room became almost unbearable. The heat, the silence interrupted only by the sound of your ragged breaths, and Wanda’s overpowering presence made the air feel heavy. Every word she spoke was an electric current running down your spine, igniting every nerve, every hidden desire.

Wanda’s fingers slid along your collarbone, the touch as light as a whisper. But there was a promise in the slow, deliberate movement, one that made your skin burn. You knew she was testing your limits — but you also knew Wanda wasn’t the kind to tolerate resistance for long.

“Broken… in a way that you’ll beg never to be fixed,” Wanda continued, her voice low and husky, as her fingers trailed up your neck, closing around your throat. “I can feel your heart beating here.” She pressed lightly, her thumb against your racing pulse. “I wonder who it’s beating for.”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. All you managed was a strangled sound, a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“What’s the matter?” Wanda smirked slowly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Cat got your tongue, little doll? Still thinking about her?” She spat the words.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the firm grip on your throat turned any attempt at a response into a shaky moan. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity in Wanda’s gaze made your entire body tremble.

Wanda’s face was a mask of control on the verge of breaking. Fury and jealousy burned in her eyes like a storm threatening to consume you entirely. Her grip on your throat was firm but didn’t hurt — at least not in the way you expected. Instead, every touch of hers made something inside you melt, every word laden with a dark desire that made your whole body hum.

“You should know,” she murmured, her tone low and rough, almost a warning. “You should know that no one else can have you. No one else can make you feel what I do.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, and you felt the pressure increase, the air growing scarce but still enough to keep you conscious. Wanda controlled every breath, every sensation — and you didn’t want her to stop.

“And yet, you let someone else get close,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain and possessiveness. “You let another woman believe she had any right to you.”

“I—” you tried to speak, but Wanda increased the pressure, silencing you again.

“No,” she growled. “I don’t want excuses. I want you to understand one thing.”

She leaned in until her lips brushed yours, never easing her grip. Her breath, when it finally reached you, was hot and heavy with restrained anger.

“You’re mine,” she declared, every word a command that seared into your skin. “You’ve always been mine. And now… now you’ll pay for letting yourself believe, even for a second, that anyone else could possess you.”

Your eyes closed as a shiver ran through your body. Her tone, the firm touch on your throat, the promise of punishment — it all made the heat inside you rise to an unbearable level. You felt your body respond to her authority as if it were made to fit perfectly under Wanda’s control.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

Your eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. There was something primal there, a raw need mingled with her anger. You didn’t just see jealousy — you saw obsession. You saw love in its most dangerous, possessive form.

“Who’s your heart beating for, Y/n?” Wanda repeated, her eyes narrowing as her thumb pressed against your pulse. “For me… or for her?”

You knew what the right answer was. You knew exactly what Wanda wanted to hear. But at the same time, something pulled you toward the abyss—a desire to provoke her, to test the limits of her control, to see how far she would go to reclaim the authority she never should have lost.

So, instead of answering, you remained silent.

Wanda’s smile faded. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, ominous hum of her magic lingering in the air.

“Silence?” Wanda arched an eyebrow, her tone almost mocking, laced with dangerous amusement. “Still thinking about her, perhaps? Thinking about what she did to you?”

“No!” you cried out, the sound hoarse, choked by the invisible grip around your throat. “I only think of you. Only you, Mommy.”

For a fleeting moment, her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth crossing her features—but it disappeared just as quickly. Her anger returned, simmering beneath the surface, more intense than before.

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Wanda asked, tilting her head slightly, studying you as if dissecting your very soul. “After what you did? After you allowed someone else to touch what is mine?”

She lowered her head until her lips brushed your ear, her voice low, intimate, dripping with both threat and promise.

“I’ll break you, my little doll,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

The constriction around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a shuddering breath, but Wanda gave you no time to recover. In one swift, calculated move, she claimed your mouth in a fierce, almost brutal kiss, her teeth scraping your bottom lip, drawing blood.

You whimpered against her mouth, your body surrendering entirely to the control she demanded. Tears streamed down your face, the salty droplets mingling with the metallic taste of blood on your lips.

“That’s it,” Wanda murmured, her voice softening as she pulled back slightly, her fingers caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. “Cry for me. Show me you understand.”

Her gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. Her fingertips traced the contours of your face, the touch deceptively gentle.

“I want all of you,” Wanda said, her tone a mix of tenderness and authority. “Your body, your mind, your heart. Everything.”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers. “I’m already yours.”

“Then prove it,” she whispered, the words carrying weight, dripping with expectation. “Prove to me that you are mine. And only mine.”

The air around you both vibrated with her magic, the energy suffocating and comforting all at once. You knew she was about to push you to your limits—and deep down, you craved it more than anything.

Your tears streamed freely, thick droplets tracing down your cheeks as you whispered, “Do whatever you want with me, Mommy. Punish me. I deserve it.”

Wanda wasn’t finished punishing you. Her rage was palpable—it hung in the air like a storm ready to break, crackling in every word, every movement. She stepped back for a moment, pacing slowly across the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. The suspense only heightened your anticipation.

“What’s your safe word?” she asked, her voice steady, controlled. She wasn’t testing your limits—she was daring you to withstand more.

“Crimson,” you answered, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper.

Wanda stopped pacing, her darkened eyes locking onto yours. Slowly, with deliberate precision, she walked to a nearby wardrobe and opened it. Your heart raced as you watched her pull out a black leather belt, worn and heavy—a symbol of unyielding authority, of her dominion over you.

The sound of the belt sliding through her fingers echoed in the quiet room, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Wanda asked, taking a step toward you, folding the belt carefully in her hands.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. Your voice was steady, but inside, you trembled—with anticipation, with desire, with a desperate need to be hers.

“Then say it.” She stopped in front of you, her gaze smoldering, intense. “Tell me why you deserve this.”

“Because I… I let another woman dominate me,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to the floor in shame. “I let her believe she had power over me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. Wanda remained still for several long moments, simply watching you, analyzing every breath, every tremor.

“On your knees,” she commanded, her voice low but absolute.

You dropped to your knees without a second thought, your palms resting on your thighs, your gaze still lowered. Wanda circled you slowly, the sound of her footsteps reverberating through the room, each step increasing the tension, the fire burning beneath your skin.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze, and what you saw in her eyes made your entire body shudder. There was anger, yes—but there was something deeper, more profound. Reverence. As if you were a sacrifice offered to her, a precious possession that she would never let go.

“What are you?” Wanda asked, leaning closer, her face mere inches from yours.

“I’m yours,” you replied without hesitation, your voice steady, resolute.

“Whose?” Her grip on the belt tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of her fingers.

“Yours, Wanda. Only yours.”

A predatory smile spread across her lips, dangerous and alluring. Wanda stepped back, raising the belt, running it slowly through her fingers as if savoring the anticipation.

“Lie down,” she commanded.

You obeyed instantly, lying on the bed, your body tense yet aching for her touch. Wanda climbed onto the bed beside you, kneeling next to you, the belt gliding over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“You deserve to be punished,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline with deceptive tenderness. “And I will teach you what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

The first strike was sudden, unexpected. The sharp crack of the belt against your skin echoed in the room, and your back arched instinctively, a strangled moan escaping your lips. The sting burned, yet awakened something primal inside you—a deep, insatiable need to surrender completely.

“Count,” Wanda demanded, her voice unyielding.

“One,” you gasped, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

Another strike, this one harder. The heat radiated from the point of impact, and you whimpered, your body trembling with the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

“Two.”

Wanda maintained a steady rhythm, each strike precise, calculated. Each lash of the belt was a reminder—a mark of her ownership over you, etched not just into your skin but into your very soul.

As you counted each number, the tension between you grew, thickening the air around you. The magic surrounding Wanda crackled, her power tangible, suffocating yet intoxicating.

When you reached the tenth strike, your voice broke, tears streaming down your face. But they weren’t tears of pain—they were tears of release, of surrender. Of absolute devotion.

Wanda stopped, the belt falling to her side. She leaned over you, her fingers once again brushing your tears away with an almost reverent gentleness.

“My little doll,” she whispered, her voice soft, affectionate. “Look at you. So beautiful like this. So completely mine.”

You sobbed quietly, your body trembling under her touch, every part of you laid bare before her.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Wanda’s smile softened, though the possessiveness in her gaze remained. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. The taste of her was everything you needed—a reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be

“This,” she murmured against your lips. “Now you understand.”

And you did. Every mark on your skin, every tear shed, every whispered word—it was all an oath. A silent promise that you belonged to Wanda. That you always had.

“My good girl,” Wanda whispered, her lips now brushing against your ear. “And no one… no one… will take you from me.”

The intensity of her words made your heart race even faster. Wanda’s hand ran down your neck to your chest, pressing you into the mattress, as if she were holding you both physically and emotionally.

Her eyes burned with something that went beyond anger. It was adoration, obsession, a love so deep and fierce that it seemed capable of consuming the entire world if it had to.

Wanda’s hands caressed the red skin of your ass. The contrast of the cold of her hands against your hot, abused skin. Her long fingers caressed your outer lips, feeling how wet you were. She uses your lubrication and takes it to your asshole, making your eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh… Look at that,” Wanda murmured with a cruel smile, her fingers still caressing your wet folds, slipping easily between the heat and desire that dripped from you. “So wet just from being spanked? From being put in your place?”

You moaned, trying to hide in the bed, but there was no escaping her. Wanda knew every part of you — body and mind. She knew exactly how to press until you had no choice but to surrender.

She laughed softly, and her laugh was both a comfort and a torture. “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you? How does it feel to have my finger in your asshole?”

The humiliation burned your skin, but it was a fire that only increased your desire. You tried to open your mouth to protest, but Wanda was already lowering her hand again. Not to hit you this time, but to slide her wet finger into your other hole, circling it slowly, threatening to enter.

“Surprise?” Her voice was a whisper of pure sin. “Do you think I’ll spare you after what you did? Do you think I won’t claim what’s mine?”

You felt her finger press into your ass, teasing the entrance to your anus, a slight push that made you arch your back and let out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled, torn between discomfort and the overwhelming pleasure that was about to explode.

“Oh. Look at that… A little slut who loves having all her holes used, isn’t she?” She pressed even harder, making your eyes roll back with the mind-blowing pleasure. The massage her fingers did in the spot was skillful, making you want more and push your ass against Wanda.

“Beg.” She said through her teeth, making circular movements in your ass. “Beg mommy to fuck your virgin ass.”

Saliva slowly dripped from the corners of your mouth, forming a shiny thread that fell onto the sheets beneath you. Your mind was in a dense fog, as if reality itself had dissolved around the intensity of the moment.

“Mommy, please…” Your tongue curled as you spoke due to the amount of saliva accumulated in your mouth.

“Try again.” Her rigid voice left no room for questioning.

“Mommy, please— Fuck, fuck me. Use all my holes however you want. Use me.” You cried out, whimpering. You begged for her. You had been a bad girl, but here you were seeking redemption.

“It’s something like this…” Wanda murmured, her voice hoarse as if each word was impregnated with repressed desire and pure fury.

The air around you seemed to vibrate with her intensity—not just her magic, but the emotional storm that Wanda carried within her. Jealousy. Anger. And an obsession that burned so hot it could incinerate anything it touched.

“P- Please touch my pussy, please, please, please,” you cried out, but Wanda only hummed.

“No, you don’t deserve to be touched there.” Wanda said, pushing the tip of her third finger into you.

Removing her fingers from you, she grabbed the bottle of lube and lubed up your strap-on. She pulled the toy out, needing to spread the lube around and what was the perfect way to do that? “You let me know if you need me to add lube, got it?”

“Yes- Yes, just fuck me already.” You trembled beneath the older woman.

You felt your hair being pulled at the roots, making you arch your back towards Wanda and stick your ass up against her strap-on. “You think you can give me orders now? Huh?!” She tugged hard on the strands, making you scream.

The scent of sandalwood filled the air around you, intoxicating your senses, making it impossible to even form a coherent thought. Each breath seemed to pull Wanda deeper into you, until all that was left was her overwhelming presence—burning like a secret you never wanted to confess.

Her fingers slid across your scarred skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You should be so grateful,” Wanda murmured, her tone thick with contempt and adoration mixed into one sentence. “Even with that foolish mind of yours, that dared to stop thinking about me… I’m still here.” She leaned her face down until her lips brushed your ear, her voice so low it sounded like an inverted prayer. “Mommy is here… giving you exactly what you need.”

The weight of her words made your breath hitch, your entire body shaking under Wanda’s relentless control. Your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth of her presence consume you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice weak and broken. But it wasn’t enough. “Thank you, Mommy,” you repeated, more firmly this time, as if each word was an offering.

“You should be grateful. Do you think Maria can give you that?” This sense of belonging, this love?” She growls as she pushes an inch inside you.

“Wands…” You moan needily, and receive a thrust so hard that it makes you gasp in pain.

“That name. You are not to use it now, understand? Not while you are nothing to me, nothing but a hole for me to use.” She snapped, tears welling in your eyes. You turned your head so she couldn’t see.

“Good, now that it’s all in, you will tell me when I can start fucking you. And I won’t start until you give me the green light, Dekta.” She soothed.

You nodded, shuddering as she pushed the rest of the toy inside you. As she promised, Wanda stood still, rubbing your lower back as she waited for you to adjust. You waited ten minutes, wanting to get used to the feeling. The strapon she was using was a size you weren’t used to, especially in your ass. But it wasn’t unbearable, and when you looked at Wanda and nodded, you gave her the go-ahead.

The witch began to fuck you at a slow pace, wanting to make sure she wasn’t actually hurting you. As much of a bad girl as you had been, you were still her girl. And nothing in the world would change that.

“God, the mess you’re making of me just because I have my dick in your ass. You’re so fucking pathetic.” She laughed, picking up the pace.

Wanda leaned over you, her weight crushing both your skin and your soul, making it clear who was in control. Her fingers slid around your waist, squeezing with an inhuman strength, while her eyes burned with that corrosive jealousy that hadn’t yet dissipated.

Her voice came low, slurred, each word laced with venom and possession. "Do you think Maria saw you the way I do? Do you think she felt what I feel for you? No. She only saw something to use. An easy toy to break. And you let her."

You tried to shake your head, but Wanda wouldn't let you. The tightness in your throat tightened a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to silence you.

"You're mine. But do you want to know the truth?" She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching yours. "Without me, you're nothing."

The words cut deep, a direct blow to your pride, but strangely, you felt heat spread throughout your body. Each insult was a testament to how much Wanda cared—her love was fierce, sickening, but it was also undeniable.

"Repeat it," she demanded, her fingers now slowly sliding to your jaw, keeping your face up so you couldn't look away. "Tell me who you are without me."

Your bottom lip trembled, shame and desire fighting inside you.

"I… I am nothing."

"Louder."

"I am nothing!" You screamed, your voice shaky and desperate, feeling the tears burn your eyes. "I am only something because you made me be!"

Wanda's fury was a weight in the air. Every beat of her heart seemed to set the environment around her on fire, her magic pulsing like a living creature, thirsting for more. Her fingers trembled as they slid through the leather belt she still held, but not from insecurity — it was the anger that bubbled inside her, a storm of emotions she could barely contain.

Maria's name echoed in Wanda's mind like a curse.

Maria.

This woman who dared to touch what didn't belong to her. Who dared to think, for a single second, that she could have you. Who could break you as if Wanda hadn't molded every piece of your soul with her presence, her touch, her burning love.

The jealousy burning inside Wanda was a wildfire, and her magic danced around her in response—deep red, dark crimson, like freshly spilled blood. The energy crackled at her fingertips, leaving a trail of sparks across the room as she paced in slow circles, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Did she have you?” The question reverberated in her mind, and the answer hurt like a raw blade. It didn’t matter that you were here, at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It didn’t matter that your every word was a promise of submission. All Wanda could see was another woman daring to believe she had any control over you.

Wanda knew what it was like to be marked by the past. She knew what it was like to carry the scars of pain, of abandonment, of loss. But to see you—the one thing in the world that made your darkness seem bearable—touched by another? That was unforgivable.

“Did she make you moan?”

“Did she see that look in your eyes?”

“Did she know how to make you beg?”

Each question fueled Wanda’s anger, and the magic around her responded with a perfect reflection of her emotions. The crimson sparks turned into strands of energy that snaked through the air, dancing like serpents around Wanda. The intensity of the magic increased with each dark thought that passed through her mind.

But what really made Wanda burn with jealousy—what made her want to rip out her own heart so she wouldn’t feel so much—was the fact that you let this happen.

You, who were hers.

You, who belonged to her from the moment your eyes met.

You, who were now marked not only by Wanda, but by another woman.

“No, Mommy. She never took me for her own. I’m only yours.” You murmured with difficulty, but firmly.

Wanda’s smile was cruel and satisfied. And it surprised you when you felt your clit being massaged by her fingers. “Mommy was very happy now.” She says and plants a kiss behind your ear, and now, the thrusts become hard and rough.

“Mommy’s little girl’s ass is so tight…” She murmurs without eloquence, just feeling, just corrupting your untouched body.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around your waist, her knuckles turning white. She knew she needed to release this energy before she lost control. But first, she needed something more—she needed to hear it from you. She needed to be sure that every inch of you still belonged to her.

She stepped closer slowly, her green eyes shining like emeralds beneath the crimson glow of the magic that still floated through the room. Jealousy brimmed in her voice as she whispered,

“Say it again. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you murmured, your eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s not enough.” Her voice grew lower, more menacing. “Say her name.”

You hesitated for a moment, fear and shame mingling in your gaze.

“Maria…” The name fell from her lips in an embarrassed whisper.

Wanda shivered. The magic around her flared brighter, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to fill with that dark red.

“She thought she could have you.” Wanda smiled, but it was a cruel smile, sharp as a blade. “She thought it could be me.”

Her eyes flared, and the anger that had once seemed ready to explode was replaced by something even more dangerous: a calculated calm.

“She won’t think that anymore.” Wanda’s voice was low, a warning. “I’ll make sure Maria understands exactly who you belong to.”

Wanda’s magic fed on jealousy, on the desire to possess. And the more she thought about Maria—this intruder, this threat—the more powerful it became. The crimson sparks began to solidify, forming currents of energy that fluttered around Wanda, as if waiting for an order.

But for now, Wanda turned her attention to you. Because before she could deal with Maria, she needed to make sure you understood.

That you would never make the mistake of giving yourself to anyone other than her again. She gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“You’ll thank me for this,” Wanda whispered. “You’ll thank me for reminding you of who you are. Who you belong to.” Her touch burned, but it was a fire you craved. Because despite everything, despite the anger, the jealousy, the pain—you knew this was where you wanted to be.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you whispered, your entire body shaking under her intense gaze.

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled slowly, satisfied. But deep in her eyes there was still an unspoken promise—a promise that Maria would pay. Because Wanda was not someone who forgave easily.

Your orgasm was building with each thrust, you didn’t even know it could feel this good. But she found you begging for her: “Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please! I need to be forgiven so much.” You cried, tears streaming from your eyes as you slobbered all over her mattress with your saliva and juices.

The sound of your sobs, the way you begged, made Wanda tremble all over. She tried to hold her breath, but her body betrayed any attempt at control. Her hands were steady, but her fingers trembled slightly as they caressed your tear-stained face. The weight of your words—“Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please!”—echoed in her head like a song that fed her ego and her obsession.

You were so small, so surrendered, so broken. All that was left was a fragile, submissive creature, molded by Wanda’s hands, desperate for approval. She knew Maria could never have seen you like this. She would never have understood the absolute power that came from reducing you to this—to something pure, vulnerable, wanting to be molded, guided, belonging entirely to her.

The sight of you lying there, sweating, crying, your lips wet and your face pressed into the mattress as your saliva dripped like a glistening stream, was intoxicating. The absolute control Wanda had over you made her own pulse race. The corrosive jealousy of before gave way to something even darker and more pleasurable: the knowledge that you were hers alone.

“Look at you,” Wanda whispered, her voice shaking slightly. She couldn’t help it—a low, incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “So beautiful, so… pathetic. Begging as if your life depended on it.”

She gripped your chin, lifting your face. Your eyes were glassy, ​​lost in submission, and Wanda almost groaned at how broken you were—and how perfect it was.

She began to ease her thrusts into your ass and leaned down to place hot kisses on your back, an affectionate and reverent act. You were so precious, the most beautiful thing Wanda had ever had the pleasure of holding in her hands.

Wanda pulls out of you, missing the feeling of having you squeezing her. You huff, whimper, growl at not getting what you want and Wanda finds it adorable.

“What do you want?” She teased, already massaging the needy entrance to your pussy.

At that moment, there was nothing more urgent than this. You needed this, like you needed air to breathe.

“Mommy! Please touch my pussy. I can’t take it anymore.” You say in a shaky breath, your whole body trembling. “I need to be filled.” You begged, and heard a needy moan coming from her. It was clear, now this was torture for both of you.

“Fuck, turn around. I need to fuck you now.” She growled, pulling you into a claiming kiss.

The world seemed to stop the instant Wanda pulled you in, her strength and urgency drawing a gasp of surprise from your lips. There was nothing soft about the way she kissed you—it was a growl turned into action, raw and hungry, as if she were trying to engrave her possession into every cell of your being.

Her fingers sank into your hair, tugging at it with a firmness that made your scalp tingle, while her other hand anchored itself around your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. The kiss was a fierce collision of lips, teeth, and desire, as if she wanted to devour you whole.

You could barely breathe, lost in her overwhelming heat, in the magic that seemed to vibrate in every inch of your skin. Her taste was a mix of anger and something deeper—something primal and possessive, that made your heart hammer and your legs threaten to give way.

And when she entered you, her eyes turned completely red and frightening. The pleasure she felt was not one of those safe types, it was corrosive, it made you burn inside.

“Fuck, that feels so much better now…” Wanda’s tone seemed lost in you, in your surrender and confidence. “Mommy wants her little girl to cum like this.” She murmurs in a slow rhythm, while biting the curve of your neck and inhaling the scent there.

“Oh, fuck, mommy—” You moaned loudly when you felt her cock hit the spongy spot inside you. “Tell me that you love me. That even after I messed up, you’re still obsessed with me.” You said in a dangerous impulse inside you.

Wanda’s body tensed at your words, her eyes shining with a mix of desire and something deeper—an abyss that she herself seemed unable to control. She didn’t respond immediately, and the silence between you was heavy, heavy, like the pause before a storm.

“Tell me,” you repeated, your voice a little lower, but no less provocative. It was a dangerous impulse, yes, but also a raw need to hear the words come out of her lips.

“I…” Wanda’s breathing was ragged, lust burning like liquid fire in her veins. Her hand came up to cup your face, her fingers trembling with an emotion she couldn’t name as she thrust inside you. “I love you. More than I should. More than is safe.”

The words came out almost like a forced confession, and yet there was an undeniable firmness to them. Wanda seemed lost, as if the intensity of her own feelings were drowning her, but she couldn’t stop.

“Do you think it’s obsession?” She continued, her voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “Maybe it is. Because when I look at you, I can’t think of anything else. I can’t breathe without wanting you closer. Without wanting you all to myself.”

You felt her body tremble against yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability that seemed to swallow the air between you. It was as if Wanda was completely intoxicated by what she felt, unable to contain herself. With you squeezing around her, sucking her cock—extracting all of her milk, making her spill inside you.

“I love you so much…!” Your back arched on the king-size bed, making Wanda bury herself deeper inside you. “So much, mommy…” You curl your fingers between her red strands, feeling the softness.

“Fuck. I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard.” She growled, increasing her movements—frantic and desperate. Wanda was going to cum, and she would cum hard.

Your breasts rubbed together, your nipples hard as rocks with excitement. And it was when she fingered your clit that you lost it. Your hips and legs trembled around her.

“Cum. Cum for mommy, little slut.” Wanda moaned in a slurred, needy tone, thrusting so deep that her hips were uncontrollably slamming into yours. “Shit. You’re so beautiful…”

“Mommy!”

You came, repeating her title like a sacred mantra, your legs shaking and swaying around the woman who kept thrusting—also already giving in to her own orgasm.

Wanda’s orgasm came like a volcanic eruption, a release so overwhelming that it seemed to tear the very fabric of reality around her. It was more than physical pleasure—it was power, pure, intoxicating magic, poured directly into you, as if each thrust was an offering, each moan an ancient chant that awakened something dormant deep within the sorceress.

She had never felt anything like it.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, dripping onto her hot skin, mixing with the tears and saliva you had already shed. But the trembling in your legs and the fire burning in your belly were clear signs that this wasn’t just a climax—it was a fusion. A part of her, an essence, a fragment of her very being, was being deposited within you like a mystical seed that would soon blossom.

“Fuck, this is…” Wanda gasped, unable to find words, her knees sinking into the mattress as her body convulsed with pleasure. The intensity left her staggering, barely able to maintain her balance, as if the weight of the moment were too great to bear. With each tremor, with each contraction of your inner muscles around her, Wanda felt her magic react—sparking, pulsing, flowing into you like a river that overflowed beyond any control.

She gasped, her fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “You… fuck, you’re mine.” Her voice came out hoarse, almost like an animalistic growl. “All of this… everything you feel… belongs to me now.”

You repeated her title like a sacred mantra, your voice shaky and punctuated by moans. “Mommy… Mommy…” With each time you said it, Wanda felt her pleasure amplify, reverberating within her own body, until the peak was so overwhelming that she thought she might shatter completely.

When she finally collapsed on top of you, her face pressed against your neck, Wanda could still feel her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. But what truly left her breathless was the absolute certainty that coursed through her body like an electric current: you were marked by her. Indelible. Irrevocable.

“Do you feel it?” Wanda whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. Her voice was low but carried a weight of power. “This is a part of me now, inside you. Growing. Taking root. You’ll never get rid of it.”

The thought made Wanda shiver again. Maria would never have this. She could never touch your soul the way Wanda did. You weren’t just her lover or her submissive anymore — you were an extension of her, the reflection of her magic and her obsession.

It was as if something vibrated beneath your skin, an invisible seed that Wanda had planted within you — something deeper than any physical touch, more penetrating than any word. Her presence was there, latent, like a magical current pulsing inside you, radiating through every cell, every nerve.

It was power.

And at the same time, it was devastation.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as if it might burst at any moment, your legs still trembling around her thighs. Your breathing was ragged, but the air seemed insufficient, as though the world around you had changed — as though you had changed.

Wanda had left something inside you.

Something that was growing. Blooming.

Every mark on your skin burned like a silent vow. You belonged to her, and now her magic itself was woven into you — alive, pulsing, demanding to be acknowledged. Your fingers clenched into fists beside the mattress as a tremor ran through your entire body, residual pleasure mixed with a fear you couldn’t trace back to its origin.

Then everything shifted.

The lights in the room flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And then… darkness.

Your head began to spin. You felt a mounting pressure in your ears, a buzzing that seemed to come from within you, as if something were trying to emerge, to break through the surface. Your vision blurred, and the familiar scent of iron filled your nostrils.

Your nose was bleeding.

You brought a trembling hand to your face, touching the blood that slowly dripped down toward your mouth. The metallic taste mixed with the saliva still glistening at the corners of your lips, and you tried to speak, but no sound came out. Everything around you felt distorted, as if the world were spinning on an axis you couldn’t follow.

And then, the voice came.

Shine.

It was like a whisper, but it also echoed like thunder inside your mind.

Shine for the world.

Your body stiffened. The words reverberated within you, pulsing in time with the magic Wanda had left behind. The pain in your temples intensified, as though something was about to explode inside your skull. Each heartbeat sent a wave of agony through your body.

“No… no…” you tried to say, but the voice ignored your resistance.

You are mine.

It was no longer Wanda’s voice.

It was something older. Deeper.

Something that had always been inside you — waiting to awaken.

You rolled onto the floor, pressing your palms against the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to something real, something solid. But everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Your body shook, as if it might shatter under the weight of the magic coursing through your veins.

“I can’t…” you murmured, your voice broken. “I can’t—”

You will shine.

The voice laughed.

Because that’s what you were born for. That’s what you were made to do.

And you knew there was no escape. Wanda’s seed had been planted within you — and now it was beginning to bloom.

But it wasn’t just power growing inside you.

It was destruction.

And, at the same time, a promise that you would never be the same again.

“Please…” you whimpered, not knowing if you were speaking to the voice or to Wanda. “Please, mommy… don’t leave me alone.”

The lights continued to flicker, and the metallic scent of blood in the air made Wanda frown, her gaze darkening with confusion and concern.

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was low, husky, still carrying the remnants of the possessive authority from before, but now there was something more. Something deeply maternal. Protective.

She saw you on your knees, trembling, and the sight hit her like a blow to the chest. The blood dripping from your nose made her heart stop for a moment. This wasn’t the kind of submission she wanted. This was pain. Real. Cruel. And, worse still, it was something she didn’t understand.

“Hey…” Wanda knelt beside you, her fingers trembling as she cupped your face. “Please, look at me. I’m here.”

You couldn’t. Your head was still spinning, the sound of that voice echoing like distant bells inside your mind. Shine. Shine for the world. The words kept hammering at you, as though they were being etched into your skin with fire.

“I can’t…” you whispered, sobbing. “It’s here. Inside me. Something… something is wrong…”

Wanda’s eyes widened, and her concern turned to panic. “Who? Who’s inside you? Maria?” Her voice was a low growl.

You shook your head frantically, your fingers clutching at the fabric of Wanda’s shirt like an anchor. “No… it’s not her. It’s something… A voice. Something that’s trying to use me.”

“No.” Wanda’s voice hardened, and the magic around her began to crackle in the air, sparks escaping from her fingertips. “No one will use you. No one!”

She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her strong arms around your trembling body. Her touch was firm, but there was no anger left. There was a fierce tenderness now, a possessive care that seemed to say: If the world dares to touch you, it will have to go through me first.

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” Wanda promised, her voice a fierce whisper against your ear. “Do you hear me? No matter what it is, no matter who it is. I’m your mother. I will protect you.”

You sobbed against her chest, feeling the security that only Wanda could offer. Even when everything inside you was falling apart, she was there—solid, unchanging.

"I'm so confused," you murmured against her skin. "My head... my head hurts so much..."

Wanda stroked your hair, her fingers gently gliding through the damp strands. "Shh... I know. I know, my love. Mommy's here. You don't have to do anything alone."

Her magic began to envelop you both, a comforting warmth that pushed the darkness away for a moment. Yet, even so, Wanda felt something strange—something coming from within you. A magic that wasn’t hers.

Shine. Shine for the world.

Wanda frowned. Those words weren’t hers, but they lingered in the air like a curse.

"You won't shine for anyone but me," Wanda growled softly, almost as if talking to herself. "You are my light. And no one will extinguish you."

She pulled your face to look into your eyes—her fingers firm yet gentle as she wiped the blood from your nose with her thumb. Your face was streaked with tears and saliva, lips slightly parted in a state of absolute vulnerability. It was the most devastating thing Wanda had ever seen.

"I will take care of you."

Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "Whatever it is... we'll face it together."

You tried to smile, but the fear still lingered in your eyes. Wanda saw it, and something inside her roared like an enraged bear.

"Whoever did this to you..." Wanda held your face more firmly, her eyes burning with restrained fury. "I will destroy them. I’ll tear apart every single piece of whoever dared to hurt my girl."

You shook your head frantically, panic rising. "No, Wanda... this is inside me."

"Then I'll go inside you too," she said with fierce conviction. "I'll rip it out. I'll cleanse you. I'll keep you safe. And you'll never feel this again."

But as Wanda spoke, you heard that voice in your mind again.

Shine.

It laughed.

Shine… until there's nothing left.

And then, everything went dark.

[...]

While you lay unconscious on the couch, Wanda was restless. She paced the room like a caged animal, her fingers trembling with the magic she was desperately trying to contain. After what had happened—your collapse, the blood, the pain—she felt it. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer. There was something greater, something darker, tied to your necklace, tied to you, and she needed to figure out what it was.

But she didn’t know how.

In a desperate move, she did what she had avoided for months: she reached out to Carol, suspended on the brink between life and death. Wanda had placed Captain Marvel in that state, confining her to a space where her consciousness was held in suspension. But now, the weight of guilt and the need for answers outweighed her hesitations.

Wanda took a deep breath, and with a flick of her fingers, her red magic enveloped Carol. Slowly, she brought her back. Carol's body convulsed, a scream caught in her throat as she opened her eyes.

"You..." Carol whispered, her voice hoarse from so much time in silence, her eyes wide in shock and disbelief that she had allowed herself to be overtaken by Wanda, that she had underestimated her.

"I need you conscious," Wanda said, her tone firm but with an underlying fragility. "This isn’t about you. Not now."

Carol coughed, trying to catch her breath as her senses slowly returned. Her body felt heavy, almost broken, but her mind, always sharp, quickly pieced together what had happened.

"You... kept me like this," she said through gritted teeth, her voice filled with rage. Her eyes glowed, the cosmic energy within her trying to manifest but failing under Wanda's restraints. "How long, Maximoff?"

"It doesn’t matter," Wanda replied firmly. But there was something in her posture—a mix of guilt and desperation—that betrayed more than her words.

"It doesn’t matter?" Carol stood, though unsteady, facing Wanda. "You imprisoned me. You erased me. And now you decide you need me? What gives you the right?"

Wanda stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her magic still pulsing in her fingers. "I did what was necessary. You wouldn’t understand."

"Wouldn’t understand?" Carol let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "You’re so arrogant, Wanda. You think that just because you have power, you can manipulate people as you please? How wouldn’t I understand? Do you forget who I am?"

"You’re someone who tried to stop me," Wanda retorted, her anger beginning to seep into her voice. "You tried to take her from me. And I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t lose anyone else!"

The two faced each other like two forces of nature on the verge of collision, the tension growing with every second. Carol clenched her fists, the energy within her struggling against Wanda's constraints.

Wanda took a deep breath, her shoulders falling slightly as the intensity in her eyes remained unwavering. The glow of magic in her hands flickered but didn’t fade entirely. She looked fragile, like a branch about to snap, but at the same time terrifyingly formidable, like a storm ready to consume everything around her.

Carol crossed her arms, her expression stern, but there was something different in her stance now. She wasn’t just angry; she was trying to understand, trying to make sense of Wanda’s fierce obsession.

"And what are we going to do then?" Carol asked, her voice a little lower but still filled with skepticism.

Wanda raised her gaze, the red glow reflecting in the dim room. "Take me to Strange."

"Strange?" Carol arched an eyebrow, almost laughing at the idea. "You know he sent me to capture you, don’t you? He gave me clear orders to stop you, Wanda. What makes you think he’ll help?"

There was a heavy silence. Wanda looked at you for a long moment, still unconscious on the couch, your expression soft in contrast to the relentless strength she had shown moments earlier. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost reverent.

"Because she’s different," Wanda murmured, as if the words were a secret she didn’t fully understand herself. "So different that even forces like us can’t comprehend her. There’s something in her, something that doesn’t belong to this world… or any other we know."

Carol followed Wanda's gaze to you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "This is about her, isn’t it?" Carol repeated, pointing in your direction. "You think you’re protecting her, but you don’t see that you’re putting everyone in danger! Wanda, what if you’re wrong?"

The question hung in the air, heavy, as if the entire universe was waiting for the answer.

Wanda straightened her shoulders, the brief softness in her expression disappearing, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination. She walked slowly toward Carol, stopping so close that Captain Marvel could feel the heat of the magic pulsing around her.

"If I’m wrong," Wanda said, her voice as sharp as a blade, "then I’ll make it right. Because I won’t lose her. Not now, not ever."

For a moment, Carol remained silent, assessing Wanda as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or simply accept the inevitable. Finally, she sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of resignation.

"Fine," Carol said, defeated but still irritated. "I'll take you to Strange. But know this: if he decides you're a bigger threat than anything else, I won't intervene. You're on your own, Maximoff."

Wanda didn’t respond immediately, but a small smile curved the corners of her lips—not one of satisfaction, but of somber relief.

"I'm not alone," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to you.

Carol shook her head, exasperated. "You're insane. Literally insane."

Wanda lifted her chin, an aura of power mixed with her trademark stubborn arrogance. She faced Carol with the confidence of someone who had confronted the impossible and emerged victorious.

"I'm not crazy, Carol," Wanda said, her voice sharp as a blade and as steady as the magic still pulsating in her hands. "I’m just a simple woman... who loves. And when you truly love someone, there’s no sacrifice too great."

Carol narrowed her eyes, still trying to decide whether that response was genuine or just another of Wanda's manipulations. But the Scarlet Witch offered no further explanation. She turned away, walking toward you with determined steps, her crimson cape billowing like fire as she knelt by your side, her fingers gently brushing your forehead.

"She’s ready," Wanda said, her voice softening as she spoke to you, even with Carol standing just behind her.

The last portal closed behind you, swallowing the dazzling glow of stars and worlds dancing on the edge of the possible and the unknown. In the silence of the new space, Wanda held you firmly in her arms, as if carrying not just your fragile body but all the hope that still lived within her.

She wasn’t foolish. She knew the paths she had chosen would lead to dangers that challenged even the strength of the Scarlet Witch. But she also knew that the light she had found in you—the only one bold enough to pierce the darkness that once threatened to consume her—was something she wasn’t willing to lose.

You were her sun, even now, unconscious and vulnerable. You were the center around which she orbited, the warmth she sought even in moments when the shadows of her mistakes seemed endless. No matter how many worlds they had to cross, how many battles they had to fight. Nothing would be big enough, nothing frightening enough to extinguish the radiance you had brought to her existence.

There was something sacred in the silence between you, something no spell could explain. Every step Wanda took, every surge of cosmic energy you crossed, seemed to strengthen her resolve. No matter the cost, no matter the enemy. She would do anything to protect you—and whatever it was you were about to discover.

In that moment, as the Sanctum loomed ahead like a monolith of mystery, Wanda knew she stood on the brink of something monumental. Something that would change not just her story but the course of the multiverse itself. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, as if responding to the presence of the place.

She took a deep breath.

Her destiny lay in the shadows of a mystery she couldn’t unravel, but the light? That was with her, in her arms, ready to be defended against all odds.

As she took the next step, there was no doubt in her mind. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with the ferocity of someone who had seen the brilliance of something real—and would not allow it to be extinguished.

"Shine." That word echoed in her mind, a silent command and a promise. Because even in the deepest darkness, a sun never surrenders.

~*~

So?

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[mylittleredgirl]

i know some of you have been pressing your faces to the glass waiting for me to see this one in particular SO i saw "the nurses" the other night and am still thinking about it!!

i love love love it when characters get pushed to a point where you can almost see their childhood selves pop out, like are they even talking about what's happening right now? or are their 12-year-old hearts just screaming?? i love that margaret's outburst is both irrational (the hostile work environment is coming from inside the house; i was yelling at my tv "baby it's your fault!!!") and so so honest.

[this turned into a bit of a character thesis, so not only is there a readmore, there will also be a reblog soon with the rest of the post because i maxed out the image limit] [edit: part ii now in the reblogs!]

this whole time, margaret has treated her subordinates with a heavy hand because she thinks it's the right and fair thing to do. the rules say this is how it works!

she maintains a high standard of excellence in brutal circumstances, but she's also reactive, moody, and unforgiving. she's often shown on the edge of losing control and authority, she inflames situations by overreacting, and the thing she punishes most egregiously is disrespect (toward frank, toward the army, toward herself). she intentionally underlines the distance between herself and the other nurses at every turn.

from season 3 "there's nothing like a nurse": [all IDs in alt]

really, everything she thinks and does comes from a place of "they're not supposed to like me," but the childish part of her that is completely unable to see her own behavior is confused and hurt because "i'm just doing my job so why don’t they like me???"

it's her job to maintain discipline, but especially here in 4077-land, she doesn't have to lead with the whip. henry was beloved because he was an overly permissive clown, which will never be her speed, but colonel potter has all the same training as she does. he's loved and respected as the Good Regular Army Guy because he leads with discernment and mutual respect.

it's easier for him. he's more experienced, he's respected and supported from above and below, and he has a calm temperament — which isn't nothing.

from season 4 "the interview":

whether she's aware of this as a problem or not, we at home can see how margaret's inability to control her emotional reactivity causes her as much grief as her inability to control other people.

if she were capable of laughing off small slights, hawkeye and trapper wouldn't have used her as a chew toy so much, and henry might have taken her real concerns more seriously if they weren't lost in the noise of daily fits, you know? she rarely started it, so i'm not blaming her for the hostile chaos circus of seasons 1-3, but i am saying she would have had a better time if she knew how to take a few deep breaths.

this description from the script, after the near-brawl in the nurses' tent in act one, is basically her character thesis statement:

and here, when she's reacting fully emotionally, the truth comes out! the reason that she won't be flexible and show compassion to the nurses isn't because of the rules, but because they're mean to her!!

that's obviously a very bad place to lead from. she has enormous institutional power over them, including controlling their freedom of movement, but she feels like all the other girls in school are hanging out together and they hate her. because they are! and they do! the fight in act one boils over when they make fun of her hair, and that sent all of them back to middle school.

and in many ways, that's where margaret's emotional maturity is stuck (which is, i think, why i find her so endearing). she can't see herself. she knows they don't like her, trust her, or want her around, but she doesn't understand how she dug this hole herself, or how to get out of it.

to add insult to jealous injury, one of the nurses (mary jo, who gets between margaret and baker to stop the fight and takes care of the others in different ways) is margaret's age, and the others look to her as their chosen leader and personal support.

and i'm sure margaret had NO IDEA this was the messy truth until she heard it come out of her mouth.

and her emotionally breaking on the "one lousy cup of coffee" in particular…

i wonder, how often does some version of that first tent scene happen? does she deliver their assignments every night? she walks in already defensive, they immediately stop laughing, and then... she either finds a reason to scold them or they ice her out until she leaves. (and they probably start laughing again as soon as she does!)

from her perspective, when she arrived for the dreaded sleepover and they turned out the lights the minute she walked in, it's like they cancelled the nightly coffee klatch just to avoid spending one social minute with her.

i also think the nurses are right when they assumed that she wouldn't have accepted an invitation to hang out with them (and might even have snapped at them for being inappropriate for asking). she doesn't cross that emotional line, even when she should — she didn't know gaynor was spiraling after losing so many patients in a row, and didn't respond compassionately when she learned.

has she ever invited them for coffee or a friendly chat? no.

...... but her circumstances have recently changed.

[reblog with the rest of it is here!]

[cerisahh]

can i request tdlosk jealous headcanons ?

FOCUS ON ME !

summary ꒱ how would tdlosk characters react if they were jealous

characters included ꒱ saiki, saiko, teruhashi

notes ꒱ hi anon! you didn’t specify which characters you wanted so i just did three for now. i did scenarios in which the characters are jealous and how they would react in each situation rather than a headcanon format - i hope you enjoy it! i may do a part two to this if anyone has any other characters they would like to see ^_^

KUSUO SAIKI

saiki, despite being the powerful psychic he is, has limited experience in basic human emotions.

not that he can’t feel them of course, it’s just hard for him to recognise it sometimes. often he’ll believe a new, unfamiliar feeling is just another drawback of his psychic abilities.

he’s sitting in class during break, tuning out the droning of his self proclaimed friends that are insistent on surrounding him at every possible turn, when the familiar lilt of your laugh filters across his mind.

you two don’t share the same class, but the sound of your laugh isn’t uncommon when around him - even though he never intentionally makes any jokes - so he just brushes it off.

until he hears toritsuka’s voice intertwined with yours. you’re actually conversing with that degenerate? what on earth would possess you to do that?

he decides to focus in on you two. toritsuka seems to be trying to invite you to a cafe after school. it’s of little consequence to saiki, he knows you won’t entertain or indulge in any of toritsuka’s perverted fantasies.

imagine how he visibly tenses when he hears you agree. kaidou sees his face and asks him if he's alright, teruhashi asks him if he's feeling ill, and nendou asks him if he needs to go do a number two.

saiki doesn't offer anyone with a response or clarification as he exits the classroom, every step wondering why he did. maybe, no, it was definitely toritsuka's voice grating on his last nerve.

he decides against paying the classroom you two are in a visit, he'll just... take a trip to this cafe after school too. to ensure toritsuka stays respectful and doesn't go getting any bright ideas about you.

he’s certain the school day has gone by faster than usual as he makes his way outside of the gates. you and toritsuka are walking together a little ahead of him.

saiki doesn't bother with his invisibility since toritsuka would be able to see him regardless, he just keeps a reasonable distance from you two.

you on the other hand, blissfully unaware there's a presence following you and toritsuka, are having a blast. you were the first person to welcome toritsuka to PK academy, and since then you've become quite friendly with each other. although, this is the first time you've hung out together after school.

the cafe he suggested going to was actually one of your favourites. saiki knew that too, he was the one that introduced you to it.

your meet-up is going well. too well for saiki's taste. surely you must know toritsuka's true nature? saiki can hear his thoughts. currently he’s wondering how your lip gloss tastes. he’s truly despicable.

any idiot would know your favourite flavour of lip gloss is cherry.

what saiki does next, he would not call sabotage, but simply an effort to save you from toritsuka. using his telekinesis, he sends a wave of vertigo to the waitress coming over with your drinks so that it’ll spill on toritsuka.

in a turn of events too quick to see with his precognition, the waitress trips over her left foot instead of her right, spilling the drinks all over you instead.

while saiki looks on, horrified, toritsuka takes the opportunity to help you try and remove the stains using a napkin. to no avail, mind you. but it gave toritsuka a perfect opportunity to, well, admire you, let’s say.

saiki is lucky the coffee jelly he ordered hasn’t come yet, as he would’ve unconsciously blown up the glass.

you excuse yourself to try and fix yourself up in the washroom. saiki sits and glowers at an unsuspecting toritsuka for a moment before deciding he's finally had enough of him.

using telepathy, he transmits a message directly to toritsuka's mind; 'someone's messing with your porno mags'.

it's almost too easy. toritsuka's eyes practically boggle out of his head and he races out of the cafe, scribbling a hasty message out for you on a napkin with the broken tip of a crayon. good riddance.

it isn't hard to pick out your voice in the cafe, given it's only mildly crowded. you've failed to remove the stain from your shirt. and it landed all over your lap too! what a shame. you'd have to wash your uniform again tonight.

you exit the bathroom with an apology on the tip of your tongue for taking so long, but the only apology that materialises is the hastily written one toritsuka has left for you on the table.

oh, you think, what was really so important that he had to ditch not even halfway through? did he get embarrassed because i looked so messy? it wasn't my fault the waitress tripped!

correct. it was saiki's. speaking of saiki, was that pink hair in the corner of your eye him? oh! it is! you guys are pretty close, so saiki shouldn't mind if you crash his solo coffee jelly date, right?

saiki finds that he wouldn't mind one bit.

METORI SAIKO

you could count on one finger that amount of times saiko has been jealous of someone.

having as much money as he does, there’s no point in being jealous when he could just, literally buy whatever, or whoever he wanted.

i imagine the first time he feels jealousy when regarding you would be on your birthday. stay with me here.

from the moment you wake up to the evening, he's treated you to a multitude of very expensive activities. perhaps you two take a private helicopter tour over japan, or he surprises you with a meet and greet with your idol, i definitely see him spending hours in an exclusive boutique to get you an array of new outfits.

the point is, there's no limit to what he can get you. his wealth is unfathomable, and you're treated like a princess for the entire day.

he, of course, throws you a lavish party in the evening. friends, family, and famous people attend in equal proportions. soon enough, it's time for the gift opening.

a large majority of the party goers have departed as the hours have rolled on, only your close family and your closest friends remain now.

you open saiko's gifts first, a smorgasbord of one of a kind jewellery pieces, practically a new closet's worth of designer outfits, bags, shoes and accessories, and even an exotic pet you had mentioned briefly in passing.

your appreciation and affection for him is evident as you plant a kiss on his cheek, thanking him for your gifts and for the adventure filled day he planned out for you.

saiko waves it off, exclaiming 'only the best' would ever be enough for you.

you go through everyone else's gifts then, saiko has no doubt that his were the best gifts you had received all night. these plebians couldn't even dream of topping it. not that they even could, considering the price of everything he had bought was more than they would ever see in their lifetime.

you're opening up kuboyasu's gift eventually, who is rubbing his neck with an air of nervousness as he explains your gift - a colourful and funky pair of butterfly earrings.

saiko thinks they're the ugliest things on the planet. they're nothing compared to the jewellery he gifted you earlier. much too gaudy and cheap looking. they can't have cost much at all.

so why on earth are you squealing at them like they're the finest things you've ever seen? you instantly put them on and marvel at them in the mirror, thanking kuboyasu profusely for such a thoughtful gift.

kuboyasu explains that he saw them at a market stall and thought of you and your affinity for butterflies so he had to get them for your birthday.

oh please, saiko thinks, any fool would know she likes butterflies. i got her a pair of sapphire encrusted butterfly earrings too. so what's the big deal with four eyes' gift?

as to not ruin your birthday, saiko wisely keeps his mouth shut for the remainder of the gathering. it's only when everybody goes home later in the night does he say anything.

you're both sat in the centre of the grandeur when he asks you if he liked your birthday. you, of course, give him a resounding yes and chatter about your favourite parts of the day. but all saiko can think about is those damn butterflies that are still in your ears.

you notice him staring at them and touch them with your finger, "it was so thoughtful for kuboyasu to gift these to me, don't you think?"

saiko bristles at his name and harrumphs, "they're certainly an... acquired taste". he softens a little when he notices your expression. "i don't understand. you seemed to like his gift a lot more than you liked mine. were they not up to your standards?"

it takes a moment for you to understand what he's saying but when you do you almost sigh at him, "oh, metori. you silly silly man."

you assure him that you adored the gifts he gave you more than anything, who wouldn't? your outward reaction at kuboyasu's gift was due to the fact it was so unique and unexpected - with it being the first gift you'd received from one of your new friends, and the fact that you didn't even know that he knew you like butterflies, so it was a surprise getting that from him.

ah, he thinks, your reaction was more surprise than anything! his jealousy burns little brighter than a flame now, content with the revelation and the confirmation that you didn't like four eyes more than him. it was a ridiculous notion in the first place. nobody could compare to him.

although he does take it into consideration for your next birthday, he still goes all out with expensive gifts, but he takes more care into choosing some authentic, personal presents for you as well.

KOKOMI TERUHASHI

you're a childhood friend of hers, only recently having moved back to japan. to your luck, your parents secured a job relatively close to PK academy, so you get enrolled there.

teruhashi is so excited to see you again, it’s been a few years since your last meet-up, so she has lots of gossip to catch you up with.

you two walk to school together, filling each other in on various things that have happened in your lives since you saw each other last.

you notice pretty quickly that kokomi is still as popular as ever. even just on the way to school people have been gawking at the two of you - and at least three in the last two minutes have offered you a ride to school. one guy even offered to give you his car.

skilfully avoiding the adoring masses, you two end up at school early as you’d both planned, giving teruhashi ample time to show you around a little before classes start. you’re in her class of course, after a few strings had been pulled on her end.

it doesn’t take long before you get swarmed again, having barely seen any of your new school at all. boys, and even some girls of every year crowd the two of you, asking teruhashi how she is, what she thinks of the weather, if she needs anything - one boy even asks her if she wishes to be carried to class.

ah, nothing much has changed then.

until their attention switches to you after teruhashi introduces you to them. you bow politely to the crowd. best to make a good first impression with the people that are infatuated with your best friend. you’ll probably spend most of your time in this school seeing them anyway.

“woah, it makes sense that teruhashi would surround herself with someone just as attractive as her!”

“our goddess and her disciple!”

‘what a pain. another teruhashi to deal with.’

you feel a little overwhelmed with all the crowding but try and make the most of it by introducing yourself politely.

despite your outward peaceful expression, you’re internally freaking out with all the attention on you. sure, you were aware you were attractive to a point. but these kids can’t all be that obsessed with physical appearance can they?!

the answer is; yes they are. you’re suffocated by questions and compressed by a wall of bodies. where did you come from? why did you decide to come back to japan? how long have you been friends with teruhashi? do you want an escort to class?

it’s actually dizzying. you’ve a newfound respect for kokomi’s willpower - not only having the patience to deal with these people, but also having the willpower to not verbally assault them.

teruhashi has been trying to quell the excitement since it started to small avail. her perfect facade showing cracks as her practiced smiles twitch with every ounce of attention on you.

not that she hates other people having attention on them! well, maybe a little - but not you! you’re probably one of the only people she could stand to receive attention over her. but all she can think about is how they’re taking you away from her.

how dare they! she thinks, outwardly maintaining a perfectly polite demeanour. how dare these nobodies get in our way. sure, we’re gorgeous but that doesn’t give you the right to crowd us! and to top it off you’re making it so i can’t even finish catching up with them! what do you people know about them, huh? at this rate we won’t even get to class on time - i’m putting an end to this!

all teruhashi has to do is clear her throat and the entire corridor is silent, aside from a couple students who don’t care at all moving around the congregation that’s formed around the both of you.

“i’m sorry everyone, but we have to get going to class,” a chorus of sighs and aww’s fills the air, “thank you so much for giving my friend a PK welcome, everyone has been so accommodating! have a good day, everybody!”

her dismissal, soft but firm, causes the crowd to disperse. holy shit, it’s like she had these people under mind control. you were glad for it though, that wasn’t a great experience for you.

kokomi’s cheerful presence after the fact makes up for it though, and you barely notice that she’s walking closer with you than before.

your first day goes by with no more hiccups, you almost get a repeat of the crowd at the school gates but with a flowery goodbye from kokomi to the masses, you’re off without a hitch.

you stifle a grin as you leave the love drunk boys at the gates, “kokomi, you have that school wrapped around your little finger! i don’t know whether to be jealous or impressed!”

she pretends to be flustered and waves you off with a blush. you’ve barely brushed the surface of her influence and power.

[screampied]

{nsfw warning}

okay but like…. could you would you write teacher x student nanami where you would keep teasing him and obviously, because he has a lot of self control he wouldn’t break, he’d gently push off your teasing and wandering hand when he’s trying to explain to you a question………… but then he burns for you secretly he wants you so bad and he can’t have you and then one day you come to class with a slutty and revealing outfit and that’s just the last straw for him…………… he def gives you want you want then 🌚

okay but real talk if you’re not comfortable with writing that like for example just professor x student that would also be completely fine i just want you to know i love love love ur writing sm <3 one of my favorite writers fr i check your blog everyday 🫶 thank you for feeding us with content mama

❤︎ ໋𓈒 having professor nanami teach you another method

warnings. fem! reader, reader's in university, dumbification, spanks, sir kink, brat reader, dirty talk, creampie. mdni.

an. thank u thank u eee !! 💟

“you can’t keep coming in here like this and expect me not to say anything,” your professor murmurs, and he’s leaning over you. you’re doing a failing attempt to copy some notes he had displayed for you on the board. he smelled so good, such a loud rousing scent that never failed to make you dizzy. he always does that thing where when he points towards a certain spot towards your paper, his arm would brush up against you. or—you’d accidentally do the same, except you always made it more obvious.

“like … what?” you’d raise your eyebrows, glancing up at nanami and he had the more stern yet relaxed look. it took everything in him to not let his eyes roam, your outfit.

he clicks his tongue in sheer annoyance, as always you were testing his patience. he told you to stay after because you weren’t exactly getting good marks. “nevermind,” he grumbles, and your eyes linger towards his neat matching black tie. “as i was saying before, for this particular method you have to—”

nanami desists with his words the moment you sit up, and you intentionally press against him. against there. “oops,” you giggle, and his jaw tightens.

staring down to see the thin fabric of your skirt raise up just a bit. you prod against the buckle of his belt. then you gasp once nanami brings a hand towards your waist. “oh. what—are you gonna spank me, professor?”

“you’d probably enjoy that,” he murmurs, and you’re just dumbly bent over his desk—you smother your glossed lips together before feeling him softly brush a thumb against your hip. “do you just choose not to listen? this course isn’t even that relatively hard.”

“i just don’t understand,” you hum, wittingly playing coy. as you sat against the wooden desk, he’s right behind you and the way he has you bent over for him — it was so lewd. nanami was a few inches taller than you, so he just stared over you as you faced front. “besides, your method is kind of.. old school.”

“…old school.” he repeats in a scoff.

a snicker slips past your lips before you gasp, feeling a tug at your skin. and that’s when you feel the soft linen of his tie wrap around your wrists softly, creating a soft neat knot. “fine, you wanna understand easier, bend over and keep your eyes on the paper then.”

“yes sirrr.” you’d sing, not taking him seriously at all. nanami was nice, which was rare out of your other professors. yet you pushed his limits everytime, and little did you know. his entire cordial persona was gonna change.

just a little bit…

nanami traced his fingers against your skin, your skimpy fishnets — as you pressed right into him, your ass prods against his bulge. you let off a soft moan as he gently caresses your ass, lifting up your skirt that was just barely shielding your rear.

“you know this kind of attire isn’t allowed but you wear it anyway,” he breathes, and he’s so gentle. you felt the soft grip of his tie going around your wrist before he shuffles in his pants a bit. “i hear you laughing. what’s so funny? enlighten me.”

“nothing, kent—.”

an abrupt slap to your ass cuts you off and you let off a soft whine.

“s-sir.” you corrected yourself, and you throbbed at how sudden his mood changed. you wanted more of him, being bent over his desk did something to you.

nanami lets off a grunt the moment he starts to gradually work his way inside of you—your panties stuck against your thighs, just barely pulled down, and you moan once he starts to sink his thick cock into you.

“f-fuck, already soaked for me,” and then he lightly pushes you further against the desk. your chest bumps against the edge with the many scattered papers. “do you touch yourself during my lectures? be honest.”

you swallow, feeling him reach deep and you find it hard to formulate words due to your whining. his dick was so fat, stretching you, wearing you thin. “…yeah,” you utter. “that’s why i asked for you to c-change my seat to sit up front so you could get a better view.”

nanami’s breath hitch before he sibilates. “such a nasty girl. knew you’d say something like that.”

he felt your slick wetness cling against him, you’re so wet it makes him kiss his teeth—you moan, feeling his hips continue to rub against you. being fucked against the desk, the creaking of the wood was so loud, it was screeching. amongst that, the only noises that could be heard in the office was you, the constant skin slapping, and the vents whistling in the air.

“do you—do you think about me while you’re lecturing?” you hide back a moan, back perfectly arched. you were genuinely curious, and a soft smile goes against his lips as he keeps your hips steady. “i see you staring at me sometimes.”

“just one time,” he replies, and his voice was so husky. nanami’s balls thwack against you, and you’re so dizzy.

you didn’t think he’d be so packed. you started to mentally drool, just envisioning the loads of cum he had stored up. the rough fabric of his black slacks — that were pulled down towards his thighs….went against you each time he pivots his hips, in and out, in and out. “i don’t know why you push me so much, sweetheart. is it attention? is that what you want?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, and his pace was balanced yet frantic. vigorous hits against your cunt, the tip just marginally kissing against your most sensitive spot and you whimpered from the stimulation. “you barely give me attention.”

he chuckles, skimming a thumb down your back before muttering. “well, yeah. i have other people to teach, not just you,” and then his voice grows soft, leaning in to kiss down your skin — he’s pressed right against your bare ass and you moan. “are you jealous? you have some nerve being jealous when you can barely even understand the curriculum.”

you’d spit something sarcastic back at him, but you were too fucked out already to comprehend. nanami hums against your neck, his buttoned up shirt tickling your back before you moan. you’re being pounded against the desk with your hands behind your back. “k-kentoo.”

“what’d i tell you about calling me that, baby?” he whispers, making you move your ass up just a bit. you arch upward and at this particular angle, hes so deep you’re about to lose it. nanami knew how you loved whenever he called you that.

‘…baby.’

running a tongue against your lips, you were panting…

loving each mean thrust he’s giving you, pumping you full of inches, and you have to remind yourself to be quiet. it’s not like the two of you are entirely secluded. there were probably people still around, then again…you kind of didn’t care.

his fingers went against your skin, softly piercing into your hips, stroking with his thumb while his hits against your cunt were the entire opposite. sloppy, sensual yet somewhat amorous.

“all this time went by and you never picked up your pen,” he grunts, continuously working himself inside. he was a perfect fit — a perfect match, nanami had you gripping against him tight. so good, he felt you pulse and clench. “dumb sloppy girl. jus’ listen how vocal you’re being down here, princess.”

you whine, biting your tongue whilst he’s buried to the hilt, breaching inside of you. his hips buck against you before your voice starts to pitch a bit higher and your legs starts to jolt in anticipation. “think.. think ‘m gonna cum sir.”

“m-me too,” he huffs, slow deep strokes to make your knees weak and buckle. nanami was so precise with his movements, he wanted to make sure you felt everything—you’re being bounced against the desk. his hips pick up just a tad bit before he presses all the way against you, balls deep. “you didn’t want my help, did you? you wanted me to help you like this?”

“yes sir,” you nod, your vision being blurred by the papers all up against you. your eyes roamed amongst the many incorrect marks nanami made, pointing your stupidity right in your face. “f-finish inside, please.. please.”

nanami’s jaw tightens at your words, you’re preparing to milk him dry — he groans, shoving your hips into him time after time. you pick up your pen, only to chew on the tip. he was so big, hefty with such a fat base. it hammers against you to where you can almost taste your incoming release on your tongue.

“fuck…you’re gonna make me dump such a big load. ‘s that what you want, dirty girl? arched all over my desk like this, so inappropriate..” he murmurs, his voice was silky, laced with a sweet tone that made you pulse.

“please, please…kento. i want to feel you. please.”

your folds were soaked, you could just imagine what it looked like. you whined out a whine from the feeling of his girth expanding throughout your clenched walls. nanami grabs onto your wrists with his tie perfectly holding against it. as you writhe in pleasure, you feel it. it’s approaching, and you feel ecstasy work its way up.

the moment you cum — nanami matches your speed, and indeed, he spills the bulkiest load into your pussy, it’s so much that your lips part. your mouth forms into a gasping expression and your ears grow hot, legs weak.

“s-so…much,” you’d whine, feeling it trickle out, many ropes of cum just emptying into you. it stuck against your thighs once he pulled out, and your professor brings a thumb towards your clit to smear it against your folds before pulling it back up for you. “thank y-you.”

“mhm,” he lowly grunts, untying your wrists with his tie while giving it a swift timing, watching it unravel. this position — it was definitely a favorite. leaned over his desk like this, you didn’t want it to end.

you let off a soft mewl, feeling yourself be coated with now cum filled panties, it’s sticky and you feel it while he readjusts your skirt. “so,” you panted, turning around to face him, a sheepish smile going against your lips. “did…did i pass?”

nanami gives you a soft three second glance before going against your ear, planting a kiss against your neck before muttering, “no, baby. you failed. but there’s always next year.”

[bandsandwristbands]

Gaara/Gaalee headcannons? 👉👈 (only if you want to)

*cracking my knuckles* DO I WANT TO?? BOY DO I! I am so glad you asked!! I have way too many I think lol

I won't put them in any particular order but I'll separate sfw and nsfw lol

Sfw hcs

Gaara is uncannily good at impressions- like so accurate it's off putting to see on his face. (I imagine this comes from him analysing the fuck out of Human Behavior™ in order to mask his crazy lol) His party trick is his Naruto impression. All of konoha 12 have seen it and cried laughing and it becomes an inside joke for ppl to whisper "dattebayo" in the most dead pan voice possible to make each other laugh at inappropriate times.

Gaara has a bunch of stuffed animals. Mostly gifts from his siblings and Lee as they're the only ones who've seen his bed just- fuckin buried in plushies- "I don't use it to sleep anyways." <-Gaara justifying the plush pile.

I've covered this pretty extensively (here) and lots of others have this one too but Gaara w/ piercings (I tend to include belly ring and tongue piercing a long with his ears)

Also sharp nails and canines BUT I also think Gaara's teeth are a little crooked, probably tearing stuff open with his teeth growing up and when transforming into his tailed beast form his teeth grow a bit too big for his mouth and so push around to make room. Also I think it'd be very cute ~

Especially when Lee and Gaara first get together- Gaara being starved for touch and affection will not realize he's getting overwhelmed by it until he's like "Actually I need to leave right now" and has to decompress by himself for awhile.

Alternatively, after nightmares or panic attacks- he likes Lee to lay on him like a heavy weighted blanket. He feels safe that way.

They both experience cute aggression for each other. When pining, Lee would just burst into random exercises looking *pissed* -"What's wrong with Lee?" -"He saw Gaara sneeze." -Gaara on the other hand will intentionally shoulder check Lee (not very affective, Lee doesn't clock it as aggressive) or use his sand to subtly tickle, trip, poke at and generally bother him (this does get a bit of a rise out of Lee which Gaara also thinks is cute)

Once together they will add new ways to express the cute aggression including but not limited to: Random biting, dipping the other dramatically, sneak attack bear hugs, not so gentle punches/slaps.

Gaara really likes that Lee isn't afraid to get angry at him or push back against the things he says. He does get genuinely pissed about it sometimes- they're both stubborn- but it's really comforting for him to be able to raise his voice or get visibly upset and not be met with fear.

Lee has crazyyyyy rejection sensitivity (adhd hc) He is bracing for it at all times. He masks it really well by kicking up the enthusiasm but at night he is Ruminating™ and it Sucks™

This will be really obvious in fic from me but I think Gaara's sand acts in reflection of his subconscious feelings and motives when he's not actively meaning to manipulate it. (I think the intent to protect from his mom is still there but I just think it's too weird for it to literally be her consciousness lol) I like treating it like a Disney princess companion- expressive, a little whimsical, and an extension of Gaara himself.

Falling asleep is extremely unsettling for Gaara- he's fine once he's asleep but the act of getting there activates his fight or flight often. Easier with Lee cuddles.

They're toxically obsessed with each other. So enamoured that if they were anyone else they would be creeped tf out~ but for them it's romantic ~

On that note- Gaara expresses his love by saying really gorey shit like "I want to wear your skin" or "I want you to rip my chest open and feel how my heart beats just for you" type shit- serial killer stuff that Lee cries and swoons over! Lee: "He's so romantic!!😭" Neji: "He just said he wants to gnaw on your bones????" Lee: "I know 🥹💕💕 he even loves my bones!!"

They are also always in each others lap or tangling their feet together, they are the infinite honey moon couple.

Oh, licking. Gaara gives little 'mlem' licks instead of kisses often. On Lee's cheek or lips or the back of his hand. He kisses too, the mlem is just instinctual.

Gaara licks the blood off of small cuts that Lee gets. Lee thinks it's extremely cute and eventually picks up the habit if Gaare ever gets a little knick as well. (Sakura rips into them about it but that won't stop them.)

Gaara spent an entire week of overnights studying massage therapy and ways to help relieve Lee's muscle aches and cramps, makes it a point to rub Lee down once a week at least.

He will not admit to Lee that it makes his wrists hurt.

Lee has chronic pain btw.

They both love spicy.

Gaara likes sweets but won't admit it.

Lee learns Sunan endearments and uses them on Gaara constantly and it makes Gaara turn to putty every time.

Nsfw ones !

They both love marking each other up and being marked- they're both extremely possessive and also very very into the idea of belonging to the other- neither of them ever thought anyone would want them for something beyond their abilities as weapons of war- Gaara especially likes feeling desired in a way that feels unmistakably human.

(Piggy backing off that last one, Gaara has Rock Lee [ロック・リー] tattooed on his inner lower lip before their even married because he is a little bit unhinged like that- he is self aware enough to keep it a secret for awhile but obviously Lee discovers it eventually- since I am in the Gaara Oral Fixation Fan Club- and after freaking out about "omg gaara that is permanent there's no way you actually want my name branded on you" Gaara's like that is definitely what the intention is- they both get horny about it)

Frottoge~ they hump each other like animals lol

Gaara is a tease (can you tell I want him to have more little shit tendencies) both cuz Lee's shock every time is amusing and also because Lee gets easily frustrated and will jump him later.

Fighting is foreplay. Gaara likes being crushed and choked- Lee likes to be clawed and bitten like a scratching post

Gaara is kinda gross 😏 (still having some jinchuriki senses) He gets easily worked up about Lee's bodily fluids- loves his sweat (will randomly lick him after workouts), demands Lee spit in his mouth, kind of a cumslut, goes feral over the smell and taste of Lee's blood.

They both love giving head. Gaara has a gag reflex- likes Lee activating it.

Gaara tends to bottom more because he likes the full feeling, like Lee is all around him and making him disappear, (and cockwarming because he doesn't like the empty feeling after, he enjoys the closeness on a visceral level)

Lee loves trying to overwhelm Gaara (in a good way) with Good Feelings and that means pleasure too, he's an attentive learner and does not let Gaara get away with just one nut- he's trying to make up for lost time.

And also he gets a power rush about getting to be the only one who gets to see Gaara in that context, Lee doesn't get trusted to be in charge of... Anything really. So having Gaara trust him with his body and his mind really gets to his uwus and his dick.

Lee has a small crisis when they start fooling around, worried about being disrespectful, - "Gaara I think I'm some sort of pervert!" -"I'm not exactly complaining about that 👁️👁️" - it takes a minute for him to let go of the idea that every sexual encounter has to be really romantic and loving- plus, similar to Lee getting angry with him- Gaara likes that Lee is a little disrespectful sometimes- it does take some coaxing for Lee to stop asking "are you sure I'm not being to mean??"

Lee has also learned dirty Sunan endearments and lovessss watching Gaara turn red in the face about it.

Gaara has a hard time getting out of his head so Lee takes it as a personal challenge to fuck Gaara mindless- it becomes a necessity after long swaths of stressful meetings and legislation, he knows he's succeeded when Gaara forgets Common and starts rambling in Sunan 👌

When Gaara does top, it's usually because he's feeling big emotions about Lee, sometimes premature grief that one day one of them will die, other times extreme gratitude that Lee even exists, he's still aggressive about it and honestly a little sloppy but Lee loves it, gets really flustered and bashful about all the affection. Growling, drooling top + giggly bottom.

Lee loves to be praised.

Gaara likes the combination of degradation and praise, especially if its condescending.

Oh when they first start fooling around or when Gaara's feeling Very Good his sand acts up, popping the cork, scrambling around, crawling up around Lee to hold him closer. He's worried it'll freak Lee out at first but it processes to Lee as positive feedback.

They find themselves fucking semi publicly way more frequently than they ever intend to- they just get caught up in each other very easily.

Alright alright I'll cut myself off here, I've been writing these up for over an hour and I need to shower lol

I hope my offering is acceptable! Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble! Xoxoxoxo

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 12: Beneath the Sleeping Sky

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

The air hums with chatter and laughter, the dim lighting giving the bar a cozy, almost intimate atmosphere—perfect for drinking with coworkers and embarrassing yourself in front of them. Not that I’ve done that yet, but give it time.

I should be basking in the victory of today’s team-building exercise, but instead, my brain is running laps around one singular issue: being Caleb’s girlfriend is a goddamn nightmare.

Not because of Caleb himself. Oh no, he’s perfect—annoyingly so. I am the problem. I have become hyper-aware of everything I do, as if I’m on some kind of world stage where every movement, word, and breath is being judged.

Take bending down, for example. Used to be simple. Drop something? Pick it up. That’s it.

Now? Now it’s a performance. My brain has decided that if I so much as think about bending down, it must be done with the grace of a prima ballerina and the allure of a femme fatale in an action movie.

Step one: Stick my ass out, but not too much, or I’ll look like I’m trying too hard.

Step two: Keep my back straight, otherwise my stomach will bunch in that weird, unflattering way.

Step three: Make it look effortless. Casual. Sexy but not intentionally sexy.

Spoiler alert: I fail every time.

That’s just one example. Don’t even get me started on sitting. Why is sitting suddenly so complicated? I can’t just flop into a chair like a normal person anymore. Oh no. I have to do a calculated sit. One that looks cool and effortless but also dainty? Is that a thing? Am I supposed to cross my legs? What if I look stiff? Should I lean back? But what if that looks arrogant?

“Oi! Inara!”

A heavy arm slams around my shoulders, nearly knocking me off my barstool. I let out a strangled yelp and almost spill my drink.

“Relax!” Riko, one of my rowdier teammates, laughs as he shakes me. “You look like you’re planning a murder over here!”

“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “Great even.”

“She’s lying,” Tara singsongs from across the table, sipping her drink.

“Terrible at it, too,” Kenji adds, clinking his beer against Riko’s. “C’mon, what’s up? You’ve been weird all night.”

Weird? Me? No. I am a vision of human normalcy. I open my mouth to prove it when the bartender passes by. 

I have zero reason to stop him, but my brain, desperate to prove how socially adept I am, blurts out, “Excuse me, sir, I am full!”

A silence blankets the table. The bartender stares. My teammates stare. I stare.

“…What?” Tara asks.

“I—I meant—I don’t need anything. I’m good. I—” I gesture vaguely at my drink. “Full.”

The bartender slowly nods and backs away like he’s escaping a crime scene. I want to die. Right here. Right now. Where is a good old-fashioned Wanderer attack when you need it? 

Kenji snorts into his beer. “Damn, she’s struggling.”

Tara pats my back, the only one nice enough to at least pretend she isn’t laughing at me. “Aw, it’s okay. You’ll bounce back.”

I won’t, but I appreciate the sentiment. I sit back up, determined to salvage what’s left of my dignity. Which is precisely when I make accidental eye contact with a man I don’t know across the bar.

I immediately overthink the eye contact. Was it too long? Did I just stare at him? Oh stars, am I being weird again? Do I nod? Wave? Ignore it? Do I blink??

Panic sets in at light speed, and my brain, in all its infinite wisdom, decides the correct response is to salute.

I salute this man.

He looks utterly bewildered, and my teammates lose their shit. Kenji nearly falls out of his chair laughing. Riko chokes on his drink. Tara is wheezing.

“Did you just—” Riko is gasping for breath. “Did you just salute that guy?”

I slam my hands onto the table. “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO EXIST ANYMORE, OKAY?!”

That only makes them laugh harder. I let my forehead drop back onto the table. The plan is simple: drink so I can’t talk, because every time I open my mouth tonight, something deeply humiliating spills out. If I keep my glass full and my mouth occupied, I cannot salute random strangers, nor can I declare to the bartender that I am full.

Solid plan. Foolproof.

Except for the part where I choke on my spit the second Kenji says, “So, Inara, when’s the last time you went on a date?”

I immediately inhale wrong and burst into a fit of coughing. My drink sloshes dangerously close to spilling, and I slap my chest, trying to recover.

Tara reaches over to pat my back. “Whoa, you okay? You good?”

I nod frantically, eyes watering.

Kenji, for his part, just grins, unfazed by my near-death experience. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

I finally manage to swallow properly and clear my throat. “What? No. Of course not. I just… wasn’t expecting the question.”

“Right.”

“I date,” I conclude crisply and way too defensively.

Kenji snorts. “Oh yeah? When?”

Tara squints at me. “Name one.”

My brain upends. “Uh. There was that guy—uh—Elias!”

“Elias dumped you in under ten minutes because you beat him in a shooting contest.”

“First of all, I obliterated him, and second, that still counts.”

“Does it?” Riko smirks.

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Why does this even matter?”

“Because you act like dating is some foreign concept,” Kenji teases.

Tara leans in, eyes glimmering. “Unless… you’re hiding someone.”

Shit. I keep my face neutral. “That is preposterous.”

Kenji points at me. “Suspicious.”

Riko nods. “Very sus.”

Tara gasps dramatically. “Wait—do you have a secret lover?”

“No,” I proclaim quickly, which is the exact opposite of the right response, because now they are all leaning in like I’ve just revealed the juiciest piece of gossip in the entire galaxy.

“You so do!” Tara practically squeals. “Oh my god, who is it?”

“Nobody!” I protest. “There is no secret lover!”

“That is exactly what someone with a secret lover would say,” Kenji points out.

I groan. “You guys are insufferable.”

Riko grins. “You love us.”

“Debatable.”

Tara giggles, clinking her glass against mine. “Well, whenever you’re ready to spill, just know we’ll be here. Until then—drink up!”

Under the table, I slide my phone out with the stealth of a trained assassin. My fingers move fast.

Inara: S.O.S. Save me!

It takes Caleb all of ten seconds to reply.

Caleb: What happened? Are you okay?? Wanderer trouble? Where are you?

Inara: Worse. TEAM BUILDING.

Caleb: …Worse than a Wanderer??? Bold take.

Inara: You weren’t there when Kenji started interrogating me about my love life.

Caleb: Oof. Brutal. Did you choke on your drink again?

Inara: NO… Maybe. I panicked!!

Caleb: Pip-squeak, you’ve literally stared down voidspawn without blinking, but a round of small talk and you’re ready to eject into space?

Inara: Small talk is terrifying. It’s all traps.

Caleb: I should’ve prepped you better. This was a tactical oversight. I accept full responsibility.

Inara: Send help. Drop a comms error and fake an emergency? Pretend Skyhaven’s on fire?

Caleb: You want me to fake burn down my house so you can ghost a bar night?

Inara: It’s not “ghosting” if I’m actively being hunted for information. This is a stealth mission.

Caleb: In that case… Hold strong, Agent Pip-Squeak. Reinforcements en route.

I stifle a laugh, biting my lip as I shove my phone away, just in time for Tara to lean across the table and ask, “Who are you texting, huh?”

I lift my drink. “My dignity. I think it blocked me.”

Okay. I just have to hold out long enough for Caleb to swoop in and save me. Easy. Simple. I can do this. I’m a trained Hunter. I’ve faced horrors that could unravel the human mind. I can survive five more minutes of forced conversation and watered-down beer.

Yes. I’ve totally got this.

“Hey,” says a voice, smooth and just a little too cocky. 

I glance up—and instantly regret making eye contact. It’s the guy I saluted earlier like an absolute buffoon. I try to play it cool, sip my drink, and not recall how I smacked myself in the face with my glass three seconds after said salute.

He smiles. “Mind if I buy you a drink?”

I stare at him, eyes wide, probably looking like someone who just got caught mid-crime. My brain stalls, offering me no helpful dialogue options.

“Uh,” I manage, which is not a complete sentence but also not a yes, so… win?

He takes this as encouragement. “I noticed you earlier. At the range. You’ve got a good shot. Figured I’d come say hi.”

“Oh,” I say, gripping my glass with both hands like it’s going to anchor me to reality. “Thanks. I, uh… shoot things sometimes.”

“I’d love to hear more about that.” The guy leans a little closer. “So what do you do when you’re not, you know, making headshots look easy?”

I blink. “Uh. Stuff. Mostly.”

NAILED IT.

Just when I start calculating how many years of medical leave faking a fainting spell would get me, the door swings open.

And there he is.

Caleb, in all his stupidly gorgeous, heroically tall, annoyingly perfect glory. His flight jacket’s slung over one shoulder, his hair just messy enough to look effortless, and he’s scanning the room like a damn hawk looking for prey.

His eyes land on me—and the guy sitting far too close—and something subtle shifts in his posture. Not angry. Not obvious. Just enough tension in his shoulders to make a man with a functioning survival instinct hesitate.

He strolls over casually, but there’s a purpose to his steps. Like he’s not just walking—he’s claiming space.

Caleb stops just behind me, a hand resting lightly on the back of my chair. “Evenin’,” Caleb greets smoothly, voice friendly but just a touch too even. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The guy blinks and straightens a bit. “Oh—no, not at all. I was just chatting with—uh…” He never got my name, so he just gestures awkwardly.

Caleb glances at me with the faintest smirk. “I see that.”

The guy clears his throat. “You a friend of hers?”

Caleb holds the man’s gaze for a beat too long, head tilted slightly, the kind of expression you’d wear when deciding whether or not to break someone’s kneecaps.

Then, he flashes a smile that’s all white teeth and charming menace. “Somethin’ like that.”

The guy laughs nervously and stands. “Well. I should, uh, get back to my friends.”

Caleb gives him a nod. “Nice talkin’ to you.”

The second the guy’s out of earshot, I turn to Caleb and hiss, “Something like that?! What does that even mean?”

“It means he’s gone, isn’t he?” Caleb rebuts innocently, pulling out a chair and plopping down beside me. “Mission accomplished. You’re welcome.”

“You scared him off with your face.”

“I scared him off with my presence,” he corrects, stealing my drink like he owns it. “Which is far more efficient and less messy than dragging him out by the collar like I was originally planning.”

“You know I’m going to spend the next seven hours replaying everything I said to that guy in my head, right?”

“Good,” he notes smugly. “That’s seven hours you won’t be flirtin’ with anyone else.”

I nearly spit my drink out. “Excuse me? That was not flirting. That was social distress.”

“Well,” he purrs with a wink, “you wear it well.”

I consider throwing my coaster at him. Turning to the group, I attempt to sound breezy—like Caleb showing up was totally planned and not the result of a desperate “S.O.S.” text fired off mid panic spiral.

“Hey guys,” I begin, voice already wobbling, “uh, this is—this is Caleb. He’s, um. He’s… with me.”

Caleb gives me a quick sidelong glance, then nods to the table. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Hey man,” Riko says first, ever the friendliest of the group, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Riko. This here’s Tara, Kenji, and Jessa.”

Tara waves sweetly, and the others nod or grin in welcome. They’re all totally unfazed. It’s infuriating how normal they make this look.

“So,” Riko starts, leaning in with interest, “what do you do, Caleb?”

Caleb shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m with Farspace Fleet.”

“Oh?” Jessa arches a brow. “Like an engineer?”

“No,” he replies, smiling easy and relaxed. “I fly.”

Riko perks up. “No way. What Fleet?”

“All of ‘em.”

Riko blinks. “Wait—As in… you’re the colonel?”

“Last I checked.” Caleb grins.

From there, the two fall into an intense, rapid-fire conversation about jets, engine modifications, flight patterns, and who-knows-what else. I stop listening after Riko says “thrust vectoring” for the third time.

Which is when Tara leans closer and whispers in my ear. “So… is this the secret lover?”

Every muscle in my body stiffens like I’ve just been caught stealing military secrets. My face floods with heat, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out—

“Yes! This is my boyfriend!"

It comes out far too loud. The kind of loud that carries. Everything goes quiet for a second. Half my coworkers glance over, eyebrows raised.

Caleb, without missing a beat, chuckles softly. Then, louder than me—deliberately louder—he calls out:

“Damn right I am. She’s my girlfriend.”

The spotlight shifts off me instantly. A few people raise their glasses in half-hearted cheers. Someone whistles. Tara giggles into her drink. Meanwhile, I want to slide under the table and evaporate.

Caleb leans toward me, voice low and teasing. “You know, if you wanted to announce it like a town crier, I’d have worn a sash or somethin’.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, burying my face in my hands.

Secretly, I’m smiling.

The night winds down with laughter still echoing in my ears and a warmth in my chest that isn’t just from the drinks. The group trickles out one by one, calling out half-drunken goodbyes and promising to meet up again soon.

I’m walking beside Caleb, still riding the high of not dying from social embarrassment—though it was a close call—when a strange murmur rolls through the crowd ahead. There’s a weirdly large group gathering at the edge of the parking lot, phones out, flashes going off.

Kenji’s voice cuts through the buzz like a firecracker. “Holy shit! Someone parked their plane in the parking lot!”

Riko gasps like it’s Christmas morning. “No way,” he exclaims, already jogging ahead to gawk.

A cold, sinking dread crawls up my spine. No. No, no, no. I whirl around, eyes snapping to Caleb—who is, of course, wearing the most self-satisfied, proud-of-himself smirk I’ve ever seen.

“Caleb.” I grab his arm and yank him down to my level, whispering through clenched teeth, “You landed the fucking plane here?”

He blinks innocently. “What? You said, ‘S.O.S.’ There was no time to stop at the airfield to get the car.”

My jaw drops. I can’t even form a sentence. I just make a strangled noise that might be a groan—or a laugh. Honestly, it’s probably both.

Behind us, Riko shouts, “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Tara, standing beside me now, frowns as she unlocks her phone. “Okay, I’m calling a ride service. Do you and Caleb need a—?”

I just point. At the plane. Tara follows my hand.

Her eyes widen, and she presses her lips together, doing her best not to burst out laughing. “Oh, right. That makes… sense.”

“It really doesn’t,” I mutter.

Caleb offers her a charming wave, and then, as if this is just a totally normal Tuesday night, he throws an arm around my shoulders and guides me toward the plane. “Shall we, m’lady?”

I sigh, pressing my hands to my burning cheeks as we walk through the murmuring crowd. 

This man is going to be the death of me.

And, annoyingly, I think I kind of love it.

Once we’re back in the relative safety of Caleb’s hidden sanctuary, I finally let myself breathe. Well… try to breathe. What if I’m breathing too loud? Or too shallow? Or like some sort of Victorian ghost with tuberculosis? Do I sound sickly? Unhinged? Suspiciously winded?

I clamp my mouth shut for a moment just in case and make my way into the living room.

“So? What did you do to make that guy come over, or did he just get enthralled by your beauty?”

I let out a dramatic groan and flop face-first into the couch before rolling onto my back, grabbing the nearest pillow, and hugging it to my chest. “I… okay. We made eye contact, right? And you know how I get—like there’s this pressure to do something with my face? Acknowledge them? I don’t know. So instead of just looking away like a normal person…”

I pause for effect.

“I saluted him.”

There is silence. Deafening, suspended silence, then Caleb absolutely loses it. He bends over, arms braced on his knees, as he laughs like he’s just heard the greatest joke in human history. 

It’s deep and full-bodied, the kind of laugh that has him gasping for air between each wheeze. “You saluted him?”

“It’s not funny, Caleb!” I protest, my face already burning as I whip the pillow at his stupidly beautiful face. “I panicked!”

“Clearly!” Caleb wheezes, grinning from ear to ear. “God, I love your brain. It’s like a ten-car pile-up of anxiety and good intentions.”

I make an offended noise, grabbing another pillow to shield myself from further embarrassment. “I was trying to be polite!”

He finally sits up straighter, still chuckling, and reaches over to gently pull the pillow away from my face. His eyes are warm and soft around the edges, like I’m the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

“I know, angel,” he coos. “And it is adorable.”

My cheeks heat again, but this time it’s for a completely different reason. I go to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable that smells less like gunpowder and humiliation. 

Caleb follows me into my room. "Are you going to move your clothes into my room, or do you want to move my room into this room since you like the view better?"

My hands freeze mid-motion, grasping the hem of my shirt like I’ve forgotten how clothing works. My heart does an acrobatic flip in my chest—one of those unnecessary, show-offy ones gymnasts do when they’ve already won the competition.

“You want me to put my stuff in your room?” I repeat, just to make sure I actually heard him correctly and that my brain isn’t filling in details it wants to hear.

“Well, yeah. Why not?”

I hear the smirk in his voice before I feel him—his chest pressing into my back, his arms looping around my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He dips his head, lips grazing my ear as he murmurs, “You sleep with me every night you stay over anyway.”

His breath is warm, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. He says it so casually. Like it’s not a huge deal. Like this isn’t some massive, relationship-levelling milestone that should be accompanied by fireworks and dramatic orchestral music.

Meanwhile, my brain is staging an entire coup. Moving my stuff into his room? Is that…? Does that mean…?

I clear my throat, trying desperately to sound like a normal, functioning human being. “You… want me in your space?”

His arms tighten around me. “Of course I do.”

His lips trail lower, his mouth a slow-burning comet tracing heat where it wanders. His hands, still wrapped around my waist, flex slightly—like he’s reminding himself to take his time

But I don’t want him to take his time.

A shaky breath escapes me as he presses a kiss just below my jaw. My fingers grip his arms instinctively, digging in as heat pools in my stomach.

His hands shift, sliding up my stomach, fingertips skimming the edge of my ribcage and then grazing the swell of my breasts through my thin cotton shirt. I let out a soft moan, arching into his touch, silently begging for more. 

He obliges, cupping my breasts fully in his large hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples until they pebble beneath the fabric.

I can feel him, growing hard and insistent against my back, and a fresh wave of heat rushes through me. My pussy clenches around nothing, eager to be stuffed. He turns me in his arms, and I barely have time to breathe before his mouth is on mine. I melt into the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him closer.

His tongue swipes across my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I readily part my lips. Our tongues dance and twine together as the kiss deepens, growing more ardent with each passing second. His kiss is electricity—ozone and stormlight, like lightning had licked the sky and landed on my tongue.

My hands tug impatiently at the hem of his shirt, longing to feel his bare skin against mine. He breaks the kiss, allowing me to pull the fabric over his head in one swift motion before doing the same to mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, drinking in the sight of newly exposed flesh.

My chest heaves, nipples peaked and aching to be stimulated. The pang in my cunt is more intense than I’ve ever felt it, and I squeeze my thighs together just to relieve some of the hounding pulse.

Caleb’s strong hands find my waist, fingers pressing firm against my back as he pulls me close. Heat blooms where we meet, where fabric does nothing to keep the electricity at bay.

His fingers trace up my back, light enough to make me shudder, and he makes a sound low in his throat, something dangerous, approving, before his fingers tangle into my hair, tilting my head back to take more.

We stumble backwards until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. I don’t know if I am standing or falling—only that he is everywhere. His touch a brand, a tether, a gravity I can’t escape.

Nor do I want to.

He lowers me gently onto the bed, his head dipping to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I cry out at the sensation, my back bowing off the bed as his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. His hand comes up to palm my other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until I'm writhing beneath him.

His hand slides down my stomach, fingertips skimming along my waistband before dipping beneath.

“Caleb.” I grab his forearm, halting any further progress.

“What is it?” He pulls back to look into my eyes. “Do you wanna stop? Are we escalating things too quickly?”

“No.” My voice is breathy and trembles with anticipation. “I’ve just… never done this before. I—I’m a virgin.”

His expression softens, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face tenderly. “Neither have I. We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me everythin’: what feels good, what doesn’t; faster, slower, firmer, gentler. And if you want to stop at any point, you just have to say the word.”

I nod, swallowing hard as I gaze up at him with trust shining in my eyes. "Okay."

His hand resumes its southward path, slipping beneath my waistband once more. His fingers dip lower, teasing me through my panties. I gasp into his mouth, my hips bucking up involuntarily seeking more friction. He rubs slow circles over my sensitive flesh, and I can feel the damp fabric clinging to my drenched cunt.

Caleb groans, pressing his forehead against mine. "God, you're so wet already."

Slowly, fucking torturously, he drags my pants and panties down my legs, leaving my slick slit exposed to his heated admiration. Those eyes—lilac laced with wildfire—drag over me in a way that makes my breath catch. Inadvertently, I try to close my legs in a sudden bout of vulnerability, but his hand catches my knee, and he gently coaxes me to relax. 

“You’re beautiful,” he purrs before moulding his mouth to mine once more.

His fingers dawdle torturously languidly up my inner thighs. The slow drag leaves me trembling and feverish in undiluted craving. When they finally meet my swollen pussy, a depraved, appreciative growl burbles from his lips as his fingers part me, spreading my dripping arousal around.

He circles my clit with the pad of his thumb, and I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders. I'm lost in a haze of sensation, my mind going blissfully blank as he works my engorged bud skillfully. “Slower,” I whimper as the exquisite sensation becomes almost too much to bear.

Immediately, his fingers steady, sweeping leisurely circles and strokes. His lips drag along my jaw, the line of my throat. Heat spills across my skin where his breath grazes, where his lips press soft, then firmer, like he’s testing me. Like he’s waiting for me to break.

And I might.

My own hands betray me, sliding up his arms, his shoulders, tracing tense muscle. I realize, with a sharp thrill, that his breath is unsteady too. I’m not the only one shaking. The thought sends something wicked curling through me, and I tip my chin up, barely a whisper between us now.

His fingers glide down my seam, teasing my dribbling entrance. I cant my hips in an implicit acknowledgment, and he eases a finger in, teasing me before pushing inside. There’s a slight pinch of discomfort at the intrusion, but it quickly fades as he stills, giving me time to adjust.

All of my inhibitions have been seared away in the inferno of my blistering desire. Is it supposed to feel like this? A reckless, parlous urgency? I have no idea, but it feels fantastic to finally let go of my worries.

My lips find the contour of his jaw, planting breathless kisses along it, down his neck, and across his collarbone. I want to consume him. Devour him. Mark him as mine. 

I rock my hips wantonly, hopelessly fucking myself on his finger. He growls, a low rumbling in his chest that I feel against my lips, and starts pumping his finger deep into my quivering channel.

"More," I pant, my hips rocking against his hand, chasing the burgeoning pleasure building inside me. "Please, Caleb, I need…"

Caleb adds a second finger, stretching me further. He drives them in and out, curling them to hit a spot inside me that has my toes curling. His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing tight circles as his fingers thrust faster, plunging deeper.

The dual stimulation is fucking indescribable. I can feel myself tightening around him, my inner walls fluttering as I climb towards the peak. 

I lewdly curse, needy and unrestrained. “F-fuck! Caleb! Fuck yes!”

"That's it, baby," Caleb murmurs, his voice drenched with a desirous lilt. "Let me hear you."

One more swipe of his thumb and I'm flying, shattering into a million glittering pieces. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me, stealing my breath and wiping my mind blank of everything but pure, unadulterated bliss. 

Caleb works me through it, drawing out my orgasm until I'm boneless and sated. As I float back down to earth, I realize Caleb is still achingly hard against my thigh. 

Emboldened by the haze of pleasure still fogging my brain, I reach between us to palm him through his pants. He sucks in a hiss of a breath, his abs contracting under my touch. I squeeze him gently, marvelling at the hard length of him. He's so big, I can barely wrap my hand around his girth.

Hooking my fingers into Caleb’s waistband, I tug slightly. He helps me push his pants down, freeing his straining erection, and kicking them off to the side. It springs up against his stomach, the swollen tip glistening, weeping bead after bead of his heady precum.

I wrap my fingers around his velvety shaft, giving him an experimental stroke from root to tip.

"Fuck, Inara," he groans, his hips jerking into my touch.

Gaining confidence, I start to pump him faster, twisting my wrist on the upstroke the way I've heard drives men wild. Based on the strangled sounds Caleb is making, I must be doing something right.

"Wait, wait," he pants after a minute, grabbing my wrist to still my movements. "If you keep that up, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."

I can't help but feel a thrill of feminine pride at how wrecked he sounds, knowing I'm the one who did that to him. Caleb rolls me onto my back, hooking my leg with his knee and spreading me wide. I know my pussy is oozing. My arousal glissades down the curve of my ass before soaking into the sheets.

Caleb positions himself at my entrance, the broad head of his hefty cock nudging between my slick pussy lips. My heart is pounding in my chest, anticipation and nerves warring within me. This is really happening. I'm about to lose my virginity to Caleb, the boy—man—I’ve known for as long as I can remember. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, searching my face for any hint of hesitation or doubt.

I nod, cupping his jaw and bringing his mouth down to mine for a sweet, reassuring kiss. "I'm sure. I want you, Caleb. I want this.”

He exhales as if he were frightened my answer would be different. ”I'll go slow, angel. Tell me if it hurts, and I'll stop."

His hips rock forward gently, and I can feel the ridges of his head as soon as it begins to part my tight cunt. There's a sharp pinch and a burning sting as he breaches my barrier, claiming me. 

I gasp at the stretch, my body struggling to accommodate his size. It burns, but beneath the pain is a building pleasure, a delicious fullness that has me craving more.

"Breathe, baby," Caleb soothes, peppering kisses across my face as he stills inside me, giving me time to adjust. "Just relax."

I take a shuddering breath, willing my muscles to unclench. As the pain starts to ebb, I experimentally roll my hips, taking him even deeper.

We both groan at the sensation. "Fuck, you feel amazing," Caleb pants, his voice strained with hoarse, shuddering need.

Gradually, he starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in to the hilt. The friction is goddamn mind-numbing. I can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging along my walls, hitting something deep inside me that has white-hot pleasure searing behind my eyelids.

I cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he rocks into me again and again, gradually picking up speed. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in my core with each thrust, winding me higher. I arch into him without meaning to. The feel of him, solid and warm, pressed fully against me—it’s dizzying.

He groans—quiet, barely restrained—and I feel the sound more than I hear it, deep in my chest, where my heart is already beating too fast. My world narrows to the place where we're joined, the delicious drag of his thick cock.

Caleb sits back on his heels, pushing my thigh up and to the side a little bit, allowing him to kiss my cervix with every pump. He watches himself disappear into me, burying himself with a snap of his hips that has his balls slapping against me.

His stare is a slow burn, violet with streaks of sunset fire, rapt by the sight of my tight cunt wrapped around his shaft. I whine when his fingers find my clit again, circling in time with his plunging thrusts.

As Caleb picks up speed, a feeling starts to build inside me, swelling and expanding until I'm sure I'll burst from the intensity of it. It's like nothing I've ever felt before, an all-consuming pleasure that threatens to incinerate me from the inside out.

"I'm close," I whimper, my head thrashing on the pillow as I chase that elusive peak. "Oh god, Caleb, I'm going to..."

My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, stealing my breath and sending shockwaves of soul-shattering rapture ricocheting through my body. I arch off the bed, my inner walls clamping down around his shaft as I come undone. He moans, his rhythm faltering as my spasming muscles milk his cock.

Caleb follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his cock pulsing inside me as he finds his release. I can feel the hot spurts of his release painting my walls, flooding my channel, and prolonging my orgasm. He collapses on top of me, our sweat-slicked bodies heaving as we struggle to catch our breath.

I feel like I'm floating, suspended in a haze of pleasure and satisfaction. Caleb's weight is a comforting presence, grounding me as I slowly come back to myself. I wrap my arms around him, savouring the feel of his slick skin against mine. 

I never want to let go.

After a few moments, he lifts his head from where it was buried in the crook of my neck. His eyes are soft and sated as they meet mine, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

"That was incredible," he murmurs, brushing a tender kiss against my mouth.

I hum in agreement, still too blissed out to form words. I card my fingers through his damp hair, marvelling at the silky texture. Everything feels heightened, like all my nerve endings have been set alight.

Caleb rolls us so that we're lying on our sides, our bodies still intimately connected. He cups my face in his large, calloused palm, his thumb caressing my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

We stay like that for a long time, trading soft kisses and gentle caresses as we bask in the afterglow. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and steady. It's the most soothing sound in the world.

Reluctantly, we untangle ourselves from each other. Caleb pulls out of me with a hiss, leaving me feeling empty and aching for him once more. Our combined pleasure is still sleek on the inside of my thighs, and my pussy still throbs in time with my heartbeat.

“Do you want some water?” He asks before settling.

I nod, and he kisses my forehead before leaving. On his way out, I admire the play of muscles in his back and the perfect curve of his ass with a contented sigh. 

He returns with the glass of water, his skin still flushed, hair mussed in a way that should not be legal, and absolutely not a shred of clothing on. The man has the nerve to look completely at ease.

I’ve shifted on the bed slightly, one arm tucked under my head, and I am, quite literally, gawking.

His eyes crinkle when he notices. “What are you lookin’ at?” he asks, grinning as he passes me the glass.

I take it wordlessly, drink too fast and choke a little, then manage to croak, “You.”

His brow lifts. “Oh yeah?”

“You have an annoyingly perfect body,” I mutter, handing the glass back. “It’s unfair, honestly. To men everywhere. No one else stands a chance.”

He laughs, shaking his head, clearly not buying it.

“No, I’m serious!” I sit up a little as I gesture at him like he’s some sort of exhibit. “Take your forearms, for example. Forearms, Caleb. Who the hell has attractive forearms?”

“I don’t know, pip-squeak,” he says, clearly trying—and failing—not to laugh. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Don’t even get me started on your elbows, Caleb. Elbows shouldn’t be—” I throw a hand up. “I don’t know. Sexy? But yours are! What kind of cursed nonsense is that?”

He pauses, his grin widening in realization. “Wait a second… That night when you were practically passed out and mumbling about being coerced by someone’s forearms…”

My face lights on fire.

He leans in, voice smug as hell. “It was me, wasn’t it?”

I flop into the pillow with a dramatic groan. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.” He presses a kiss to the back of my shoulder, chuckling against my skin. “And for the record, I find your obsession with my elbows very charming.”

I groan into the pillow again, muffling out something that sounds vaguely like, “We are not talking about your elbows anymore.”

To escape this conversation, my eyes dart around the room, desperate for a change of topic. And then I blurt, “We should move your stuff back in here.”

He pauses. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” I sit up, trying for casual, though I’m still pink in the face. “If you still want to share a room, this room has the better view and all…”

Caleb props himself on one elbow, eyebrow raised. “Mmm, so you’re proposing a merger.”

“Of space, not lives.” I point a finger at him. “And full disclosure—my plushies are staying. I don’t care how ‘uncool’ it makes the room look.”

He lifts both hands in surrender, eyes twinkling like a constellation against the velvet embrace of the night sky. “Wouldn’t dream of touchin’ em.”

“That includes Mr. Apple,” I warn, glancing at the enormous red apple that was unfortunately relegated to the floor in our throes of passion. “He’s non-negotiable. He stays.”

Caleb turns toward the plushie like he’s regarding a rival. “That thing is larger than you.”

“I know. He brings me comfort.”

“Mmhm. Does he also snore?”

I swat at him with the pillow. “Only if you press his stomach too hard.”

He dodges the pillow, laughing. “Well, I suppose if I want to share a bed with you, I’ll have to make peace with Mr. Apple.”

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter got much, much longer than I meant it, but I was having fun with her awkwardness. It's... so much like me, unfortuantely. I am an insanely shy and awkward person. But... something tells me you guys won't mind 😉 First time writing smut in first person, so hopefully it's at least decent. Also, FUCKING FINALLY.

[mymegrokosmos]

tbz as boyfriends drabble pt. 2

sangyeon is the type of bf to be a little more subtle with his affection in public. he doesn't want you to ever think you aren't capable of looking after yourself but the man has a protective streak a mile wide, gets a little jealous and is a constant worrier. he's always holding your hand in public or resting a hand on the small of your back. he might be quieter about it but he sticks close and makes sure you know he's there if you ever need anything. even if that's just an excuse to step outside for a breather or another drink. will 100% make faces at you when you look at him but if you're searching for reassurance he's so quick to flash you a soothing smile and press a soft kiss to your forehead. secret sap who is so in love with you it makes the members gag just thinking about it.

younghoon is the type of bf to always have his chin resting on your shoulder or his cheek laid against the top of your head. He tends to hover and is a big fan of back hugging you and swaying to the music at parties. Often has one or both arm looselt wrapped around your waist, just resting there as if it’s their natural place. His hand often falls to rest on your thigh when you're sitting together. he's so clingy he loves cuddling pls let him put his head on your shoulder and play with his hair.

haknyeon is another less pda kind of guy. he's the type of bf to watch you from across the room at a party, letting you have your fun but also making sure he's visible and can get to you quicky should you need him. will rest a hand on your waist and makes sure you always know where he is, brushing a hand against the back of your neck or lightly squeezing your shoulder before going off for any reason. if he's not in your line of sight he's conscious of the time slipping past since he checked in with you last. cuddly drunk. will whine if you don't let him back hug you while he shuffles you both to wash up after a night out or when he's tired after a long day. loves to rest his head in your lap while you exchange stories about your days and can talk with you for hours, especially if you let him play with your fingers or run them through his hair.

chanhee is the type of bf to lose you in a crowd. this man turns to talk to someone, bc ofc he knows everyone at a party or event, and when he looks back you’ve wandered off to get a snack or new drink. in your defence he was busy for a while. he has a lot to say. also the type to dress you up in matching outfits or style you at any given opportunity. definitely links pinkies and secretly likes it when you intentionally shift closer so that your knees or thighs are touching. will 100% sit himself on your lap and act like it's normal, just chatting away to whomever he came over to talk to.

sunwoo is the type of bf to always be testing the limits. he likes physical contact and is more than happy to hold hands he definitely swings them while you're walking or cuddle but he has to razz you just a little first. cue 'you missed me that much?' 'you really like me huh?' 'oh so you're feeling needy today?' etc. he is such a little tease. this mf may look cute and harmless, and he will absolutely back down if you call him on it, but he has to be a menace. especially if it makes you laugh or smile. it's how he hides how incredibly whipped he is so you don't notice his palms are sweaty or how fast his heart is beating when you lean your head on his chest. he's so gone and he will make it your problem.

[absolutewriter]

Sugar rush

Before you read, please keep in mind that my media consumption of DC is very limited- I've mostly consumed the animated shows

Barry Allen x Reader

Happy Easter everyone, I hope everyone gets to enjoy some yummy foods, sugar fueled or not!

Summary: Barry indulges himself in the holiday with too much sugar for a normal person, and shared some with his beloved

Masterlist

Easter Holiday, a day where people come together and celebrate… something- family? Who cares, certainly not Barry. The holidays, for him, meant big sales on limited time candies; and while he did still care about having a healthy diet- could you really blame a man with super enhanced metabolism for needing some sugar in his system? Certainly not.

The coffee table was stacked with a couple shopping bags, full of nothing but Easter chocolate and some gummies scattered around in there. Though mostly chocolate. Barry has promised himself to set aside a bag for Wally, having put it in the freezer to keep his promise. God forbid he eat it all and leave the poor kid with nothing, and knowing that Wally liked his candy frozen he just did himself a favor immediately putting it away.

“Having a good day, are we?” You mutter behind him, laughing when he turns around. His face wore a look of surprise, mouth practically stuffed with jelly beans. Walking over you rest your hands on the back of the couch and raise a hand over to his mouth, whipping leftover chocolate from the corners and rubbing the residue on your pants. What was a little mess anyways.

With an almost dramatic gulp, his mouth and throat are cleared from any sugar. “Sweetheart! I thought you were working today.” His smile was nervous, like a child getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He turns even more and raises his hands to grab your head, pulling you down to press a brief kiss on yours.

You reciprocate the kiss, resting a hand on his hair and scratching at his scalp. When you pull back you stand back up to full height and set a bag down next to him on the couch. “I figured since it was a holiday I'd leave early and make dinner.” Barry turns to rummage through the bag, raising a brow at you when he pulls out a few boxes of chocolate. “And I wanted to get my favorite speedsters something sweet, but it looks like one of them beat me to it.”

You shrug and grab the bag, pulling it back to you without even bothering to wait for Barry to take his hand out. It resulted in him dropping the chocolate back into the bag so he could pull his hand out. “Wait, does that mean you won't give me any? Speedsters? Plural? You got Wally some too?” His questions rapid fire as he quickly gets up and follows you to the kitchen.

“Yes, Wally too, the kid's working all day in school and his little superhero team. And I haven't decided yet.” The bag hits the kitchen counter and you start pulling out the recently bought ingredients for dinner. “Haven't decided yet?” Barry cries out, laying his body on the kitchen bar counter dramatically, “what do you mean by that?”

“Well,” you start, setting a container of paprika on the spice rack “you bought yourself so much already. Not to mention you never texted to see if I wanted any, maybe I'll just keep it for myself.” Barry slumps more into the surface under him as you talk, a fake pout plays on his lip.

His hands come up to intertwine, holding them together as he raises his head slightly to look at you more, “please forgive me sweetheart, you know I'd never intentionally do something so rude.” His head raises more and now he's leaning on the counter, “I was gonna share when you got home, I swear.” Before you can even turn back to look at him he's already behind you, hands on your waist and his head on your shoulder.

“I'll share with you right now, anything you want from my pile on the coffee table.” He murmurs, his hands moving to hug you more than just hold onto you. It takes you a moment of playful thinking before you rest your head on his, hand coming up to caress his head.

“I'm just playing with you sweetheart, it's all yours baby.” You say, scratching at his scalp again and he buried his head into the crook of your neck with a smile.

“I'll still share with you,” he says, moving one of his hands to grab a chocolate bar from the bag.

[yanderes-galore]

Can I get a shirt for Junko enoshima with a darling that Intentionally makes her jealous. The reason being that the darling feels like she's not paying enough attention to her and hasn't properly stacked her claim on them

Okay... I don't really do yanderes where the darling is okay with their behavior... so let me see how I can tweak this ^^;

Bratty

Yandere! Junko Enoshima Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome/Mind break, Isolation, Kidnapping, Sadism, Murder, Blood, Stalking, Dubious relationship.

Junko always treated people like they were her toys. After all, that's all they were ever good for, right? They always have all these silly hopes and dreams...

Her favorite hobby is to break that down.

Even Junko tends to have her favorite toys. There's just certain people who give off a flavor of despair she adores. Those are the ones she personally enjoys building up...

Just to topple them down like a fragile card castle.

Junko's had many fall for her charismatic charms. She's quite the skilled manipulator, after all. Yet... when she met you...

It was quite euphoric to break you, a person who was left with nothing, only to be 'saved' by her.

Normal Junko likes to play with a person then toss them. If a toy bores her, what's the point of keeping them around? She'll keep them broken and move on... It makes more despair that way to see them so desperate.

But you're so much different than any other toy. She's been playing the role of your beloved girlfriend to keep you strung along. If she actually loves you is up to debate.

You always manage to surprise her. Each time she builds you up and breaks you down... You come back. You need her... just like so many of her other toys...

She always liked to test your limits.

Yet... It appears you've been playing your own game with her. A game Junko never expected to be played on her. Junko tends to pay attention to other toys more than you to break you... however...

Junko wasn't expecting to see you be so affectionate towards another person.

The... feeling she got from that was borderline euphoric. Seeing you pay attention to someone else made Junko mad. Not only that... but despair pulsed in her heart....

What a little brat you are.

She knew you weren't oblivious when she watched you. You were deliberately getting back at her, your master, just to gain her attention. All your kisses... touches... affection.... It's all planned to make her upset.

Junko can't help but laugh at the realization. Oh, aren't you being cute? You're trying to make her jealous...

It's working.

You enjoy being a disobedient toy, don't you? You like to make her jealous? You're learning to toy with others like her, huh? This is what makes you her favorite toy...

You make her feel things no one else can.

Your new toy's fate is quickly sealed. You didn't love them anyways, right? You only love her....

You only have love for Junko... She makes sure you do.

Splattering their blood felt amazing when Junko knew you pushed her into it. You've got your way now, happy? Their blood... now spilled across the floor of her newest project... is on your hands.

Yet when Junko confronts you, blood spatters on her clothes and your toy's corpse on the floor... You look oddly pleased. So pleased in fact you hug her. The thought stuns Junko.

Sure, maybe you were upset they were gone... but now you have a better prize. At the cost of another's life, you gained Junko's affections. The game you're playing... is amusing to Junko.

You've taken after her, haven't you? She's all you can think about now. Now, with your newest ploy....

Junko finds herself adoring you even more.

She finds herself enjoying your little games. No other toy has made Junko so irritated yet addicted. You love causing her despair... You love pushing her to get her hands dirty just to have more attention....

Then once she turns her back, you do the same game again...

Making Junko keep you around more, after all, she loves you for a reason... you're the toy that's provided her the most fun.

[savannahsdeath]

hi hi i love your writing style !! could u maybe do ellie x goth!reader? like someone who wears a lot of black, likes goth music, dark makeup and hair, etc. i’ve only seen hyperfem reader (and there’s nothing wrong with that!) and it’s just not me 😭

ahh thank you love🩷

ELLIE WILLIAMS X GOTH!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, dom!ellie, sub!reader, a mention of reader being needy and ellie taunting you about it🤗

writers note: im not goth and none of my friends are so i have honestly no idea how it is like.. i also wasnt sure wether to make it a one shot or headcanons but here we are !! its kinda short since i honestly try to make all my stories as general as possible (until someone requests otherwise) but enjoy!!💞

ellie always loved your aesthetic. she would go shopping with you, staring at all the typical goth clothes you buy in admiration. even though she wasn't goth herself, she enjoyed seeing how happy it made you, and the confidence it gave you. she'd often complement you on how the style suits you, and tell you how cool and unique you are.

she always stared at you while you were doing your daily make-up. she made sure you know you look pretty without it but she knew how comfortable doing it makes you feel, so she didn't complain. in her opinion, you looked beautiful both ways. she loved the way you tried out new makeup looks, and would ask questions about the trends and what each product does. she thought it was cute - the way you would watch makeup tutorials and take notes, and would sometimes watch them with you. she didn't really understand it, still couldn't help but be curious like a little kid. for her, your basic skills were unbelievable. she'd act like you just turned the house upside down after you made the simplest eyeliner ever that she would easily do too if only she tried.

the only problem with your appearance she had was getting you undressed. your tight, black clothes full of accessories, everything in the same color so it was hard to find out where to pull to take it off. the problem wasn't exactly hers, though. for her, it was a lot of fun. in fact, she intentionally took her time, laughing at your impatience and neediness. she would play dumb, 'looking for the zip' which was right next to her hand, and whenever you wanted to help her out of desperation she'd pin your wrists above your head. you secretly enjoyed it, as mush as did she. she loved the way it made you whimper when she held you down. she found your reluctance and neediness to be cute and innocent, and enjoyed teasing you and seeing your reactions. whenever you tried to make a move, she would make you beg for it, and the more desperate you got the more she'd hold back. she loved the way it made you squirm and the noises you made. she'd often whisper in your ear things like; "quiet. i'll give you exactly what you want, but on my terms" and enjoyed your helpless response.

she was a bit bossy, and sometimes liked to use her physical and / or emotional power over you. she knew she could push and pull your strings as she pleased, and often liked to remind you of that. she would frequently try to provoke you or push your limits to see how you would react.

eventually, she would release you and help you undress in a much more teasing and slow way. she would make it clear that it was no longer a game, but an important moment where you have to behave. even though she enjoyed taunting you, she always took care of your needs and made sure you were comfortable and felt good.

and after she finally completes your desires, she can't help but look at you and laugh. "you're ready for halloween, babe."

you'd frown, not sure whether to chuckle with her or feel offended, until you see yourself in the mirror. your goth, expressive make-up was smudged and shabby. you were lucky you decided to do one of the light ones this day, so you didn't really look like a victim of possession. you both laughed, knowing that your appearance after the intimate moment was quite a far cry from your usual look. you'd give her a look of mock frustration, as if she had ruined your makeup purposely. you'd go to wash your face, but you knew it would leave an afterglow of black smudges and mascara that would be quite difficult to remove. but you didn't mind, because the moment you had shared with her was unforgettable, and those smudges would be a reminder for what happened for the rest of the night, until they finally wear off.

[juunobox]

──★ ˙ ̟ sitting on nikolai's lap and testing his limits by pretending oblivious. (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary: enjoying ice cream while u sit on his lap, intentionally moving around in ways that'd turn him on but pretending you have no idea what you were doing to annoy him lol warnings: n/sfw. no actual woohoo scene , just the teasing leading up to that, and i don't use explicit languages here but u can tell what's happening note: i have mixed feelings ab this one i think im having writer's block idk help me e i hope u enjoyed tho

"Me, oh my, looks like someone is enjoying themselves a liiittle too much," Nikolai chuckled whilst playfully tousling your [h/c] hair, causing you to nod with a laugh. "I didn't expect myself to enjoy it this much, either– carnivals are typically crowded places- but this was a pleasant surprise," you admitted with glee. 

Initially, you hesitated to accept the invitation to go visit a carnival with Nikolai because you have a dislike for crowded and busy environments, but his company made a significant difference.

Whenever you started feeling overwhelmed, Nikolai, with his keen eyes would almost immediately notice it– immediately whisking you away into his arms; using his overcoat to move the both of you to a quieter spot nearby and stay there until you felt better before continuing the activities.

Nikolai was enthusiastic throughout, and although keeping up with his energy was challenging– seeing his beaming excitement warmed your heart and kept you going. His eagerness to explore every nook and cranny of the carnival while still making sure to take breaks just for you was a gesture you deeply appreciated.

Nikolai grinned, "See? I knew you'd enjoy it, dove!" You responded with another nod, mirroring his satisfaction in how today's events had turned out pleasantly. Leaving the carnival behind, the two of you walked in comfortable silence for a moment.

As the lively lights slowly faded into the dusky evening, you and Nikolai wandered into a nearby park. Typically bustling with activity, the park had now settled into a peaceful hush, possibly due to the approaching darkness. Nikolai's eyes suddenly lit up as he exclaimed, "[Y/N], look over there! An ice cream vendor with Halloween-themed flavors!" He pointed at the vendor with an enthusiastic grin, slightly jumping in his spot. "Wow, they have 'blood' flavor! We have to try it." He tugged your arm, coaxing you to join him. "Let's gooo!"

Even though you weren't in the mood for any more sweets after indulging in them with Nikolai in the carnival earlier– it was difficult to resist his gleeful enthusiasm, so you responded with a smile and a nod. The vendor appeared pleasantly surprised by Nikolai's striking excitement for the sweet, cold dessert. He ordered 'blood' flavored ice creams for both of you, but Nikolai's cone contained an unexpected swirl of vanilla.

He happily accepted it, paid the vendor, took your hand in his before leaving.

"He was so kind, wasn't he? Giving me the vanilla flavor as well," Nikolai giggled softly while savoring the ice cream. You agreed with a small giggle, "Yeah, I think he appreciated your excitement. It's not every day you see someone this thrilled about getting an ice cream."

"Hahaha! I hope that's true," Nikolai laughed before taking a taste of the ice cream. "Oh, turns out this is strawberry jam," he remarked, taking another lick of the dessert. "Just the right amount of sweetness! What do you think, dove?"

You tasted your own ice cream before replying, "Mmm, it's good, I agree!" You glanced at Nikolai, who was enjoying his treat with repeated nods in silent approval. "Can I taste the vanilla flavor, Kolya?

"Sure thing!" Nikolai smiled and lowered his hand, offering you a taste of the vanilla. You leaned in to taste it- approving the taste, "The vanilla is so creamy," and returned to enjoying your own ice cream.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze lingered on your lips for a little longer. "Isn't it? Sooo good!" he forced a grin on his face, promptly looking away– pretending that the sight of you tasting his ice cream earlier didn't make him feel nor think of certain things that shall remain… unspoken. At least for now.

As you both strolled a little further, you came across an unoccupied bench. Nikolai abruptly halted and turned to you, saying, "Let's sit here for a bit!" He tugged your arm, guiding you to the bench before taking a seat himself.

Leaning back against the wooden bench, he savored the taste of his ice cream; legs spreading slightly as he relished the treat. It was difficult not to look at his legs— his thighs, his lap. Your eyes remain fixated on his lap, and a familiar desire stirred within you.

You often fantasized about sitting on his lap; his thick thighs looked incredibly alluring. Or, perhaps you just yearned for something more. You wanted to feel them… on you, against you– experience that closeness in some way or another.

That's why now, instead of taking the empty space beside him, you boldly plopped down on Nikolai's lap.

He was taken aback by the sudden contact, his eyes widening in surprise. It nearly caused him to drop his ice cream. "[y/n], what would you do if I dropped my ice cream?!" he proclaimed theatrically, a small laugh accompanying it.

Despite his words, you chose to ignore them and continued to enjoy your ice cream while making yourself comfortable on his lap.

Nikolai, maintaining his playful tone, remarked, "Someone's feeling a bit daring today, I see~?"

With faux innocence, you replied without even sparing him a glance. "What? I just wanted to sit here. Your lap always seems like a comfortable seat to me." Not giving him any chance to respond, you continued by shifting your sitting position on his lap.

He chuckled, "Suuure. Comfortable, is it?" Nikolai said smugly, clearly seeing through your intentions but didn't make a comment on it. "But we're in a public space, [y/n]. Don't you think people might find this… at least a teeny bit inappropriate?"

Nikolai wasn't wrong. You knew exactly what you were doing at this moment: teasing him– but this time, you intended to play the innocent. After all, he was always the one poking fun on you. This would be a sort of payback. Fair, right?

"Kolya, I'm just sitting on your lap, trying to find a good position. These hard wooden benches aren't very forgiving," you responded with mock ignorance, enjoying your ice cream and continuing to shift your position on his lap, pressing down against him even more. 

Nikolai's words caught in his throat at this, feeling your movements. Oh, his expression was priceless – if you could see it. He's trying so hard to pretend he's just as oblivious as you are; but his flushed cheeks, the glistening sweat on his forehead, and the way he nibbled on his lower lip– revealed everything.

There was a brief pause before you heard a response from Nikolai in the form of a soft hum. "Hm~ well, if you insist." He leaned back, trying to relax again and enjoy his ice cream that's starting to melt a little.

What you were doing was clearly having an effect on him, but he was valiantly attempting to maintain his composure. You looked around, spotting a dog passing by in the distance. You jumped a bit on the spot, intentionally pressing down on him even more. "Oh, a cute dog," you exclaimed, "Kolya, look!" you extended an arm and pointed in the direction where the dog is, deliberately ignoring his reactions as you continued to shift on his lap.

The clown's eyes widened once again, sucking in a sharp breath as you moved. He almost let out a moan. Almost.  In his mind, you were practically grinding on him, because, well, that is exactly what you're doing– it's just that you're pretending clueless to it. 

Nikolai's hand drifted to the edge of the bench, his fingers gripping it tightly as you continued to move. He blinked slowly at the sensation, releasing a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. It was becoming progressively more challenging for him to keep his composure.

"Dove... You're moving a bit too–" he said in a hoarse, unsteady voice. But before he could finish what he was trying to say, you quickly interrupted, "Oh! That really sucks. I wanted to see the dog's face up close; it already looks incredibly cute from here!" You continued to move, undeterred by his pleas.

Nikolai's blush intensified, "[Y/N]," He swallowed, transitioning from gripping the bench to placing his hand on your hip, attempting to keep you from moving...

But you just continued and kept going.

"Aaah," you gasped, posing disappointment as your eyes followed the dog racing away. You kicked your legs and held onto Nikolai's thighs even tighter, leaning back, "The dog ran away." You murmured, maintaining the feigned innocence to the impact of your actions on him up until now, but finally putting a stop to it.

Nikolai was noticeably sweating, his breathing slightly heavier. You were in such close proximity to him, practically pressed against his body– you could feel the heat emanating from him.

Just as you were preparing to rise from his lap, he finally spoke up. "Nope. Come back here," Nikolai's grip on your hip suddenly tightened, leaving you with no choice but to remain in close contact with him. You were caught off guard by the sensation, your eyes widening as a soft gasp escaped your lips. 

"Hey," you began, attempting to speak and make eye contact, but Nikolai swiftly nuzzled your neck and slid his hand beneath your shirt, gently caressing your skin. His touch sent shivers down your spine, accompanied by a flutter in your lower stomach. "Kolya, wait," you squirmed, trying to stop him; but instead– ended up losing your balance. Your ice cream tumbled into your lap, the creamy substance sliding down in between your thighs.

Nikolai paused and leaned back, assessing the mess with a small pout. "Hm, your ice cream spilled... What a waste." His hand swiftly ventured further upwards, tugging onto your shirt. "If you remove this, then I can use it to wipe the ice cream off your thighs," he suggested with a mischievous giggle, slipping a finger underneath.

Your cheeks turned red at his words. "I'm not doing that," you held onto his arm, preventing him from going further. "Not here-"

"Oh, my prettiest dove, you were the one who initiated this... I knew what you were doing, moving around on my lap like that!" he chuckled, "But, fine." Nikolai finally withdrew his hand before gently helping you get off his lap before standing up.

"Let's head over to that alley instead. I'll help you clean that up!" Nikolai chirped with a sly grin, his cheerful tone contrasting with the true intentions behind his proposal. 

You nodded and walked alongside him, the stickiness from the ice cream made walking a bit uncomfortable– but the prospect of getting rid of the sticky feeling soon was somewhat relieving.

Then, you suddenly felt Nikolai's hand on your thigh, where the ice cream had spilled. You jumped at the sudden touch, turning to glare at him. He met your gaze with a playful giggle, licking the ice cream off his fingers.

"Did you just—"

"It's called not wasting food, [Y/N]!" He giggled, eyeing you suggestively, "I'll clean the rest of it too, don't you worry~"

[isathefantastic]

i'm sure some of you have seen these posts made by the user "vampyrdiariez"

i am the ex that she is referring to, and im going to explain my side of the story as best i can.

on november 2nd, 2024, oliver and i had gotten together after a date to the mall. everything was going great, and we had stayed together until january.

about 2 weeks after we had gotten together, i had a really bad relapse and i had gotten sent to the mental hospital. during this time, i had witnessed a group of girls give eachother hickeys, finger eachother, etc. i avoided it as best as i could, and i wasnt involved with anything that they had done.

a few weeks ago, i had told this girl about what had happened during my stay in november, and we were laughing about it because its crazy that they did that in a mental hospital. im not sure if she misunderstood me, or decided to start more problems, but she had told oliver that i cheated on her during my stay. that girl immediately started to avoid me afterwards, which makes me think she did this intentionally because thats the kind of person she is, and oliver knows this, so to see her trust somebody that we have both said not to trust really hurt me.

oliver also mentioned the new years party, which i have repeatedly explained to her over and over what actually happened. when i'm drunk, i am very vulnerable and easy to manipulate. i had told my friend, bri, to not let me do anything stupid. wether it be sneaking out at 3am, or drinking past my limit, i made sure she didn't let me hurt myself or others. to which i had said "if theres an instance where there's a possibility i might cheat on oliver, please make sure i don't. i cannot do that to her or myself."

later that night, at around 2 am, i got absolutely wasted. during this time, a girl who went by the name mori, tried pressuring me and bri into having a threesome. she was trying to take advantage of me being drunk, and no matter how many times i said no she kept saying "your girlfriend wont find out." bri stated that she didnt mind having sex with mori, but that i had a girlfriend and it wouldnt be a good idea. even with that input, mori kept begging me to join to the point where i slowly started to consider it, but i was still firm on saying no. eventually, i kicked mori out because i wasnt going to deal with that.

bri told our mutual friend about this. however, bri didnt say the full story (or she did, im not sure) and our mutual friend had told olive that i tried to cheat on her. i explained this several times to olive, and i have it recorded, and oliver said they understood the situation.

next, i would like to talk about the accusations made against me. asher, the person who started the s/a allegations, admitted to lying about it, and i shared this information with olive. they said that they were upset that the things they were stressing about weren't even true and they had apologized to me. yet, for some reason, they are still going to social media talking about these accusations full on knowing they are not true.

the cancer rumor was started in 7th grade by my ex who was angry that i had broken up with them. again, i had shared this with olive, and she said she understood as well.

the allegation stated where i tried to "💀 my mom" was also explained to olive. the same girl that had told olive i cheated on her in the hospital, had gone to the same hospital with me before this last one. there was a group therapy session, and one of the questions was "why are you here." i had shared my story, which was that i was having homocidal thoughts about my mother and i had called the police on myself because i didnt want it to get any worse and i recognized i needed help. again, olive said she understood and that it was a good thing that i had asked for help.

olive also knows the entire story of the DID accusations, and they stated that they believed my side of the story and even provided good input. i have schizophrenia, and in middle school i self diagnosed with DID because the symptoms are so similar and i hadnt gone to a professional about it. later on that year, i had gotten diagnosed with schizophrenia, and i had told people that i didnt actually have DID, but i didnt tell them about the actual disorder because that isnt any of their business. i shared this information with oliver before we even got together, and they stated that they trusted me.

the tourettes thing, however, is entirely true. i was in 7th grade, and i have anxiety tics, and i thought i could get away with exaggerating them. oliver, and everyone else, has the right to be upset at me. i was 12, and i was being stupid, however, i do think that it's a little bit ridiculous to be so angry about something that happened nearly 5 years ago. but that's just my opinion.

a few weeks ago, i had made a tiktok about the situation, and oliver had asked me to take it down, and i did. to see that she has been posting about me after we both decided not only to not make posts about it, but to be mature about it as well. this doesnt feel very mature.

olive knew my side of the story since the very beginning, and has seen the proof that these rumors arent even true, and yet, she still takes to social media to talk about things that she knew wasnt the full story. i dont know why exactly, but i have my suspicions.

i had also heard from several people that oliver had a crush on her best friend, ava, since before we got together and during our relationship, which hurts a lot. oliver often turned me down to hang out and talk with ava, so to see the truth makes it a lot worse.

oliver, you wanted to be mature about everything, but from what im seeing, this is FAR from mature. one of your friends had told me that you have a severe victim and savior complex when we were first talking, and i see it now. you also said you were "concerned for your safety" yet i only treated you with nothing but trust and respect? why were you so scared? you have had the same rumors happen to you, yet because your friends believe them mine are true? it doesnt make sense.

at the end of the day, this is all petty highschool drama, but the fact that oliver is going to social media and withdrawing information to change the story makes me upset, and if i were to request for them to take their posts down then theyd only block me and post about me again.

@vampyrdiariez

[aiura-stan]

0-6!

(If you’re wondering how I’m getting these done so fast, it’s because I’m doing these ahead of time. I'm running on a queue.) I used dictation and actual keyboard typing for this one, so it’s going to be long. (Side note, I love the ability to dictate things and using split screen mode! Highly useful features and I have no idea why it’s taken me this long to actually use them.) Also, I guess I should say that there will be spoilers in this and probably future posts too, because I’ve already read the manga. Okay! Onto the commentary.

I love that Saiki outright states he doesn't want to be the "guy you know what he's thinking.” Like, come on Saiki, admit it; you have a little bit in common with Kaidou. (I think he secretly kind of likes freaking people out. He definitely likes the fact that people are a little scared of him.)

He's always the odd one out; He's one of the loner kids. I don't think he really thinks it makes him look normal. I think that's just what he tells himself to feel better about the whole thing.

I think it's funny that he dislikes Kaidou for the same reasons that he thinks he's so different from everyone else. I mean, Kaidou is always trying to stand out, and Saiki does have a legitimate reason for not wanting to stand out. But even so. He’s just got it in his head that is so much better than Kaidou at the beginning of the series. Like, dude, you're no different from him. You're the same breed of weirdo in a different font. Lol. That font is “really intentionally manipulating others’ perception of you for personal reasons.” It’s just that Kaidou’s version is much flashier than yours. I like seeing it this early on in the comic; it's interesting to see how it all started. Also, Kaidou is a lot more polite than Nendou, apologizing for talking to Saiki out of nowhere. Amusing. He absolutely knows how to behave like a normal person, but chooses not to because his persona gives him confidence.

I also like that here in the beginning of the comic, we have an unnamed guy who is was basically parroting what Kuuusuke says further on in the comic, and it’s more clearly framed as delusional weirdo behavior.

Yes, duh, he came to you because you were alone, Saiki. Weirdo behavior attracts weirdos (weirdos attract weirdos.) That's just a basic social law for ya.

Also, I laughed out loud at “okay, I’m calling you Junpei.” good response, honestly. Saiki’s narrative commentary addressed to no one in particular is always really funny.

He also seems to be egging him on in the next panel with his sarcastic remarks (wow. Your punch was soooo fast I couldn’t see it at all), though it’s never clear in this manga whether the person being spoken about can actually hear anything he’s saying in all of its dry sarcasm. My headcanon follows the lines that Saiki uses hypnosis when he’s not actively addressing them (sending telepathic messages to them), so people just hear whatever they want to hear from him. Or something like that. I’m guessing that we, the readers, are supposed to assume that they can’t hear him unless Saiki is actively sending them telepathic messages/‘broadcasts’. "I fancy you" is a strangely British way of putting it. Which also means "I like-like you" if memory serves. Translators??? strange. anyways.

Ah… XD. I forgot that Kaidou saw him teleport in the manga. That’s perfect considering Kaidou’s name joke (shunkaidou = teleportation.) wahh, I wish this one came in the tankobon volumes so I could read them.

You know… since the third chapter of this volume was adapted into the anime, can volume 0 really be called non-canon? Maybe to the manga. Hmmmmmm.

Oh come on. Why didn’t they put this in the anime??? It would have been hilarious to have Kaidou imagining some kind of green monster-humanoid hybrid and then the screen transitions to Saiki’s expressionless face, with pink limiters and green glasses. There’s an element of color that manga sadly lacks. I get the point with the black arrows, Mr. Asou, but it just isn’t quite the same without actual color.

XD Asou’s attention to detail is good. We actually see the teacher wondering where the hell he’s going when he runs out of the room, and then following through showing that he won’t be running students down just to make sure they stay in class. It’s a small thing, but it definitely makes a difference, making the Saikiverse seem a bit more realistic.

Also, look, it’s this guy who appears a bajillion chapters later in that weird gag… What was his name again? Gah… refer back to this later, future me.

Yes, Kaidou becomes a completely different person outside of his riddiculous chunnibyou persona, which he only uses at school. I do like that Asou sensei writes him this way. It would be easier to have him be in character all the time, but he’s much more realistic like this. I love that Saiki remembers the stupid nickname he gave himself. It makes the contrast even more funny. Okay, I’ll stop analyzing Kaidou and explaining every joke for now.

XD XD XD

Things like this make me wonder if Saiki really doesn’t know that’s how his looks might be interpreted at a distance… even though he understood from the verbal description that he could be perceived as having “pink horns” and “green eyes.” And he spaces out in class just thinking about it. Thoroughly neurodivergent behavior.

I also love things like this, that imply but don’t outright show that Nendou just… openly teleports in front of Nendou because he can get away with it.

I also enjoy Saiki’s stubbornness in calling Kaidou ‘Junpei.’ Peak comedy.

I love that Kaidou would rather Saiki think he has multiple personalities instead of just being polite to people outside of school. And Saiki says he appreciates the effort… lol. I think he does actually appreciate it, in a way, sarcasm aside. Kaidou is committed to the bit.

“Whether that’s true or not, you need to get to a hospital.” Lollll. But also… makes me wonder if he really believes it, again. That along with the “Kaidou personality chart” further on in this comic. From Saiki’s other confrontations with people who clearly need help (including the one where he talks down a suicidal guy. And of course Terushashi’s brother.) It’s as if it never even occurred to saiki to have a sense of urgency about these kinds of things.

Mmmm! Once again I wish I had the Japanese version because I’m sure he is using polite speech here, for a minute.

Well, at least Kaidou acknowledges here that he’s in fact a chunni and therefore doing this on purpose. Which, again, makes me wonder why Saiki would ever believe even for a second that it isn’t an intentional thing. Or maybe it’s just supposed to be taken as sarcasm outright, but the panel where Saiki is confused about the Horns Saiki drawing really is throwing me off. Another thing I should look for raws of, to see if there’s anything to be gleaned from the OG text.

YES! You and saiki are pretty similar. In a way. Yes, he is worrying about his high school debut… in a way.

Saiki, it is entirely understandable that you think Kaidou is an egomaniac, but given his “other personality,” how did you not guess that he’s just lonely??? He literally had to explain his entire thought process for you to get it??? Yeah, emotional EQ in the single digits.

Earlier, I said Kaidou knew full well how to act like a normal person and just doesn’t do it, but he’s definitely awkward. I mean, of course it’s going to be awkward asking strangers if they’ve seen a guy with green eyes, sharp teeth and horns. (I am not quite sure why Kaidou is so committed to the bit myself.)

LMAO?!?

Saiki, that’s your own goddamned fault, lmao. Put your money where your mouth is and shut him down if you’re tired of annoying people “entering your life”… :)

That wraps up 0-6.

There’s a lot going on here, to be sure. In conclusion, I think Saiki works really well here as a character who is technically omniscient, in terms of perspective, but deeply limited in his ability to interpret information.

Alright, the end. Ja mata! 💫