#it's Fully choreographed

[meatballerino]

,

[corvids-corner]

Dr. House! The patient is dying! Do Something!!

House:

[secondbeatsongs]

🔀

your song is Gladiator by Jann!

(it is number 15 on the list)

[shiryawashere]

that feeling when an entire soundtrack of something is just your blorbos-coded it's inescapable

[graviconscientia]

Under what circumstances would you feel compelled to do a little dance?

I like to dance! But to guarantee a little wiggle? An exciting text message from a love of mine. A booty shake for a hello, but a waltz around the kitchen for more than that.

[crehador]

parting thoughts on ragna crimson (first cour)

i think it was... the first episode? that i didn't really vibe with. felt like a decent enough fantasy, but unremarkable in just about every way

THEN A WEIRD GUY APPEAR

iirc it wasn't until the second week that we really met crimson, which is kind of a shame because imo the show doesn't really start to come together until then. i like ragna well enough, but it's really the combination of the two of them that compels me

always love a duo where they have the same goal, but drastically different personalities/values/modes of operation/etc

always extra love a duo that's like "team up with me, a dragon, to kill all dragons then once we've achieved our goal you'll kill me too"

(like vanoe but with dragons. i think. my memories of vnc are actually very hazy)

and always extra extra love when ayu gets to just do his thing, playing guys who are girls who are guys who are etc etc etc

it's certainly not the best of the season, and still overall fairly unremarkable imo, but also not really bad in any way. if there's one thing i find lackluster i guess it's that i feel like they don't lean enough into this... pseudo-past life thing that ragna has going on (with the powers and presumably memories of his 'older self' passed down to him)

like ragna is still more or less his 'normal' self in terms of personality, which is fine, he's got a fun enough personality, but if he had some like... old man tendencies mixed in there, or if we saw more of his memories with crimson maybe? i don't know, just feels like something more could have been done with that fusion of past and present (or rather future and present)

looking forward to the second cour but at the same time... hoping this series won't be too long lol

[thatharringrovehoe]

You're doing great sweetie 🥰

[fluent-in-lesbianism]

oh if you like bibi check out aiki, the person who made the choreography to most of her new stuff, she is the woman with red and black hair in vengeance!

Trust me, I know exactly who Aiki is 👀

[dance-world-14]

would like to apologise to larkin dance studio for only just hopping on the flashlights hype train bc that was my first time seeing it and OH MY GODDDDDD

[kissingcicero]

For further considerations (I won't be rating like you sorry. Also sorry for the rambling.)

The Science Team: Mysterious. Which science? Do we all get lab coats? Evil scientist style?

Groupchat: Very good. It is like an endless onslaught of thoughts - messages?

Collection: Strange. Are we porcelain dolls? You gathered us? Like Collective, but implies some objectification.

Bunch: Sort of cozy. Like the Brady Brunch? Or a bunch of bananas? Or grapes? Fruity? Fruity system?

Circle: Odd. Are we all pulling chairs up to sit together? Is it group therapy?

Troop: Interesting. Sort of formal.

Lot: British-ism. I can hear which specific alter is saying this. "Oi, you lot!" Passable.

Crowd: Same guy for us. "Ay, you crowd!" Nice. Implies a larger lot though? Perhaps a bit of you're-in-my-way?

Bevy: Antique. Are you from the mid 19s? Implies busy, bustling.

Clique: Snappy. Mean Girls adjacent. But good, implies a level of you're-not-in-on that is accurate.

Crew: Like troop, it implies some seriousness, like we are all set to work on something.

Ensemble: Sort of a flourish. Theatrical. Or musical. Nice.

Squad/Squadron: Sort of formal. Like troop or crew. Or maybe a dance squad?

Weirdos: That's just rude.

Idiots: Could be affectionate, but is also just rude. Come on.

Things to call headmates other than "my Alters"

Headmates: solid 8/10, clearly a system term though

The Others: 7/10 kinda mysterious, not much pizazz

Family: 9/10 yeah replace those sorry ass relatives of yours!

Brothers/ Sisters: 8/10 personally I like calling them my brothers and sister, but tbh kinda sounds like catholic priests/ nuns. -2 points

Roommates: 9/10 Basic like headmates, but phrased in a way singlets understand

Friends: 10/10 Wholesome, although I am definitely not friends with everyone in here

The Voices: 3/10 People gonna absolutely think you're crazy

Greek Chorus: 5/10 It's funny when someone actually knows what you're referring to

Peanut Gallery: 7/10 Similar concept to the above, only more understood by the average person

Backseat Drivers: 9/10 The most correct one on the list, especially said with just a touch of contempt. Might make someone upset

The Collective: 8/10 very ominous, better when talking about the system as a whole singular unit

Comrades: 10/10 Like friends, but commier! Perfect!

Coworkers: 10/10 very accurate representation of how it actually works in here

The Council: 9/10 The Council has decided that it's really entertaining to refer to ourselves like that

Chat: -10/-10 How is it so perfect, yet so awful, yet so awfully perfect?

[erisisthefairest]

tripped some straight girls outside the gay club because I was trying to do the splits

[barrykoeghan]

saltburn (2023) dance along

[rafecameronssl4t]

omg what about the forced marriage au! but sofia tries to flirt w rafe inspite of him being a married man infront of the reader and he sets his boundaries and makes it clear that he is only loyal to the reader

Eyes don’t lie || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I don't think i mentioned it in the background for this au but reader and her family are practically royalty in obx. I forgot to mention this in the other fic but readers siblings from oldest to youngest is as followed: William Astoria Edward Charlotte and reader

Warnings: nothing really!!

Word count: 1,609

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Sofia’s eyes wandered around the grand ballroom, her gaze drifted appreciatively over the opulent surroundings. The architecture of the room was breathtaking, its grandeur perfectly fitting for the New Year’s Eve celebration, which was exclusive to the elite socialites of Outer Banks.

The high ceilings, adorned with sparkling chandeliers, cast a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests. Sofia went about serving drinks to the guests, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd for a specific person. The ballroom was alive with chatter and laughter, but her attention was fixed on the grand staircase at the far end of the room.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as the crowd’s clapping grew louder and more rhythmic. Sofia’s gaze followed the collective attention to the top of the grand staircase. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw your family make their entrance. First, your parents descended the stairs, radiating an air of effortless elegance.

They were followed by your siblings and their partners, each step meticulously coordinated, adding to the grandeur of the moment. And then, as if choreographed for a royal event, you and Rafe appeared, linked arm in arm. The sight was nothing short of breathtaking.

The way the crowd’s applause built to a crescendo as you both descended the stairs left Sofia in awe. The admiration etched on every guest’s face was palpable, a testament to the elevated status your family held. Sofia had known your family was influential, but seeing it up close was overwhelming.

The opulence and grace with which you and Rafe carried yourselves, combined with the sheer scale of the event, exceeded anything she had imagined. This elite socialite world was new to her; she had only been filling in for someone who couldn’t attend, and now she was witnessing a spectacle that felt almost surreal.

Sofia’s eyes followed you and Rafe as you navigated the room, your every movement drawing admiring glances from the guests. You both were effortlessly engaged in conversations, laughter dancing between you as you exchanged smiles. Sofia couldn’t help but notice how Rafe’s hand would rest possessively on your waist, his smile widening whenever he glanced down at you, clearly enjoying your company.

A pang of envy twisted in her stomach as she observed the closeness between you two. As the night wore on, you and Rafe made your way to the bar. Rafe took charge, ordering drinks for both of you while you chatted animatedly with your sisters. His hand lingered on the small of your back, a subtle but intimate gesture that spoke volume to Sofia.

Sofia watched this interaction with a mix of fascination and frustration. Determined to make her presence felt, Sofia stepped closer to the two from where she was behind the bar, her smile wide and her gaze fixed on Rafe. "It’s so beautiful here, isn’t it?" she said, her voice laced with a flirtatious tone.

Rafe gave a curt nod, his focus remaining squarely on you as he waits for his drinks. His body language was clear—he was fully engaged with you and had little interest in entertaining Sofia’s advances. Despite his lack of response, Sofia persisted, her smile unwavering as she tried to find another way to break through.

It was obvious to Rafe that Sofia had a liking towards him and she was not good at hiding it. Rafe’s gaze remained fixed on you, but his tone was firm and polite. “I'm just here to enjoy the evening with my wife,” he said, his words leaving little room for further flirtation. Sofia’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Well I hope you enjoying the rest of the party," she said, her tone still light but with a hint of frustration. Rafe offered a polite but distant smile before turning his attention back to you, his hand still resting protectively on the small of your back. Sofia, though slightly deflated by his lack of interest, couldn’t help but let her gaze linger on him throughout the night, her eyes trailing his every move.

~

As you and Rafe exchanged quiet words, you leaned in closer to him, your lips near his ear as you asked, “Do you know her?” Your tone was casual, but your curiosity was clear. Rafe’s brows furrowed slightly before he followed your gaze to where Sofia quickly averted her eyes, trying to look busy behind the bar. “Some pogue that works at the country club,” he replied flatly, his voice laced with boredom as he turned back to you.

You hummed in response, your eyes glinting with amusement. “She seems quite interested in you,” you mused, a small smirk playing on your lips as you observed Sofia’s poorly hidden attempts to steal glances at Rafe. He rolled his eyes, lifting his glass to his mouth, clearly unimpressed by the attention. “Find this amusing, do you?” he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he took a sip of his drink.

You could see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Very,” you replied, your smirk widening as you watched him shake his head in mock exasperation. The easy banter between you both was laced with an intimacy that only deepened Sofia’s envy as she watched from afar, her efforts to catch Rafe’s eye futile.

~

“One minute till midnight!” a voice called out from the crowd, drawing Sofia’s attention. “Get ready for your New Year’s kiss!” The cheerful voice belonged to Astoria, whose playful tone sparked laughter among the guests. Sofia’s gaze instantly zeroed in on you and Rafe, standing close together with his hand resting possessively on your lower back, subtly guiding you closer.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the way Rafe seemed so effortlessly in control, his every movement a declaration of his claim on you. As the countdown began, Rafe gently turned you so that your back was to Sofia, shielding your shared moment from prying eyes. His gaze roamed over your face with an intensity that made Sofia’s chest tighten. “What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the growing excitement.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he murmured in response, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. His breath fanned across your lips as he pulled you even closer, his touch both tender and possessive. “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!” The room chanted in unison, voices rising in anticipation as the new year approached.

As the numbers ticked down, Rafe’s hand slid up to rest on the back of your neck, his fingers lightly grazing your jawline in a way that sent shivers down your spine. At the stroke of midnight, Sofia watched with a mixture of longing and frustration as Rafe leaned in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. The world seemed to pause for her, the moment suspended in time as she took in the sight of the man she desired so deeply kissing someone else.

A camera flash illuminated the room, capturing the intimate moment between you and Rafe as you slightly pulled away, only for Rafe to keep you close against him. His hand remained firm on your back, refusing to let the moment slip away so easily. The room erupted into celebration—confetti rained down, fireworks burst outside, and the sound of cheers and clinking glasses filled the air.

But Sofia couldn’t focus on any of it. Her eyes were locked on Rafe, whose lips remained pressed against yours even as the celebrations continued around you. Then, something shifted. Rafe’s eyes opened, and as he kissed you, his gaze lifted over your head, locking onto Sofia’s. His cool blue eyes met hers, and in that instant, she felt as though the breath had been stolen from her lungs.

But instead of the cold indifference she might have expected, there was a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile of invitation; it was a silent warning. His message was clear—back off. He was telling her without words that he was loyal to you, that there was no room for anyone else. Her heart pounded wildly, the sound of it echoing in her ears as she stood frozen, unable to look away.

Sofia felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart pounding harder as she realized the intent behind his gaze. She stood frozen, unable to look away, as that smirk told her everything she needed to know. Rafe was making it clear that she was wasting her time, that his commitment was to you and you alone.

Rafe held her gaze for a moment longer, his smirk lingering as if to drive the point home, before his eyes dropped back to you. The moment you broke the kiss, a smile spread across your face as you pressed your hands against his chest, turning your attention to the fireworks outside. Only then did Rafe’s expression shift, his smirk fading into a polished, aristocratic smile as he glanced around the room.

He clapped along with the crowd, though his enthusiasm was clearly feigned. After a few seconds, he snatched a flute of champagne from a floating tray, knocking it back in one swift motion. The gesture was casual, almost dismissive, as if the exchange with Sofia had been nothing more than a brief interruption in an otherwise perfect night.

Sofia, left standing in the shadows, could only watch as the man she coveted so dearly turned away, his focus entirely on you. The pit of envy in her stomach deepened, but now mingled with a bitter understanding—Rafe’s loyalty to you was unshakeable, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

[tyrantisterror]

David Attenborough: And here we have the father lion with his newfound cub. This male has sired many young with his pride, but only this season has he produced a male. He will teach the young lion all he knows, before it grows up to make a pride of his own. Right now the father shows his cub the extent of their territory, an important fact for any lion to learn. -later- David Attenborough: It is highly unusual for two male lions to share a territory, but the bond between these two is strong. Though leaner and bearing more scars than his stronger brother, the second male has an important role to play, patrolling the outer bounds of their shared territory. -later- David Attenborough: The mutually beneficial relationship between hornbills and lions is not extensively documented, and in fact this documentary is the first evidence of such a relationship ever recorded. It is, however, not unheard of for a clever bird to ally with packhunting mammals, as crows will do the same with wolves a continent over. -later- David Attenborough: The scarred male lion may have bitten off more than it can chew, having stumbled into a truly enormous pack of hyenas. Extraordinarily large, in fact, there may well be more than a hundred individuals in this family group. The hyenas, however, show... deference? to the lion, and ... are... are they goose-stepping? Well, it would appear they are acting out a choreographed homage to the film-making of Leni Riefenstahl, and all at the apparent command of one of their natural competitors. Fascinating. -later- David Attenborough: As the male lion clings to dear life, who arrives but his brother, the loyal second in command of the pride. Surely a boon for our new fath- oh. Oh, that looked almost calculated. But we must remember that such cruelty is only practiced by men, and that lions probably aren't very skilled at helping each other climb up cliffs, given their lack of thumbs. -later- David Attenborough: Orphaned and separated from his pack, the young male lion is likely due to die. But what's this? A warthog in a mutually beneficial symbiosis with a meercat has adopted the cub. Strange, yes, but perhaps this warthog is acting on misplaced affection, as animals that have lost young of their own may sometimes adopt children of other species. This warthog may have been a young moth- oh, no, that's a dick and balls. Well... huh. -later- David Attenborough: Somehow, despite subsisting entirely on insects for years, our young cub has managed to grow into a fully healthy male lion. We can only attribute this success to a mixture of luck and determination. -later- David Attenborough: Now we see the courtship dance of the lions. Notice how... holy shit, that lioness is giving him bedroom eyes. Wait, what's that music? Is... is that Elton John? -later- David Attenborough: As the young lion survives is encounter with the wild mandrill, it takes a moment to reflect by... hold on... hold on, in the sky, is that... is that a fucking ghost? Is that a lion ghost? What the fuck is going on in this savannah?

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[claramelooo]

YeY, my readers! Another chapter to brighten up your lonely nights.

I'm thinking about posting a chapter every day while I'm on vacation, but don't hunt me down if I'm late with a chapter LOL

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Your relationship with Wanda deepens more and more after the kiss.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider

VELVET CHAINS

The Lamb

Mornings began to take on a new rhythm. Your phone buzzed with punctual messages, always at the same time, as the sunlight painted the sky a soft orange.

"Good morning, my darling. I hope you slept well. I'm thinking of you."

You read the message with your heart pounding as if it were the very first time. Each word brought an involuntary smile to your lips, and your response was swift: a shy emoji, a short phrase. Wanda always replied quickly, her tone steady and composed, subtly steering the conversation with a calm confidence that was nearly impossible to disrupt.

The days passed like a carefully choreographed dance. In the library, stolen moments were brief enough to go unnoticed by others yet intense enough to set your body ablaze and your heart racing.

You were arranging books in the history section when you sensed her presence before even seeing her. That familiar, subtle perfume—already uniquely tied to Wanda in your mind—reached you before her voice.

"Need help with that?"

Her tone was casual, but when you turned around, her eyes gleamed with something deeper. Without waiting for your reply, she stepped closer, taking one of the books from your hands. Her fingers brushed against yours, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stop.

"Sure," you replied nervously, feeling your face heat under her intense gaze.

She was so close that her body heat seemed to wrap around you like an invisible blanket. As she examined the book she’d taken from you, her head tilted slightly, almost absentmindedly. You couldn't help but notice how every movement she made seemed deliberate, as though even the act of flipping through pages carried an unspoken intent.

"History section, huh?" she commented with a small smile, her fingers lightly grazing the pages. "I've always found it fascinating how some things never change, no matter how much time passes."

You swallowed hard. "Well… I guess some stories are timeless."

"I agree," she said, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Like us."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. It was incredible how easily she left you speechless with a simple comment. Before you could recover, Wanda leaned slightly, placing the book back on the shelf. The gesture seemed casual, but her proximity sent your heart into overdrive.

"You know," she said with playful mischief, "there’s a library rule against inappropriate behavior."

"I… didn’t know that," you stammered, trying to ignore the fact that her body was almost touching yours.

"Oh, there is," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned closer. "Something about not kissing anyone between the shelves."

You blinked, startled. "I don’t think that’s in the rules…"

"It should be," she murmured, her voice low and husky, "because it makes me want to break them."

Before you could react, she stepped back with a triumphant smile, holding another book she seemed to have chosen at random. "I’ll take this one," she said, as if the charged tension between you didn’t exist.

Then, just as she was about to walk away completely, Wanda leaned in again, this time whispering near your ear, "That short skirt of yours is driving me crazy."

You froze, heat flooding your body as she walked away, her soft laughter echoing between the shelves. Her words lingered in your mind, your body reacting even before you could fully process them. A shiver ran down your spine, and your skin seemed to burn under the weight of her suggestion.

When you finally managed to turn to look at her, she was already a few steps away, pretending to peruse another book. But the sly smile on her lips gave away her true intentions.

"Wanda…" you called softly, your voice shakier than you intended.

She turned slowly, her eyes alight as though savoring every second of your reaction. "Yes, darling?"

You swallowed hard, searching for something to say, but the words escaped you. All you could think about was the way she looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

"You’re teasing me," you finally managed, trying to sound firm, though your voice trembled slightly.

Wanda took a step closer, then another, until she was so near you could feel the heat radiating off her. "Teasing?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You think I’m teasing?"

Your breath hitched as she raised a hand, her fingertips tracing a light line along your arm. The touch was almost imperceptible, yet it felt like fire against your skin.

"Because if I am teasing," she continued, tilting her head, "you wouldn’t be reacting like this."

"I’m not reacting," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though it betrayed the lie.

Wanda laughed softly, a low sound that reverberated through you, as if she could see right through your fragile facade. Taking another step closer, she closed the already small distance between you until her warmth was nearly suffocating.

"Not reacting?" she questioned, her tone dripping with disbelief as she arched an eyebrow. "Then why are your cheeks burning?"

Your lips parted to respond, but no sound came out. Her proximity, her voice, and the intensity of her gaze left you completely disarmed. When you tried to step back, Wanda moved with you, maintaining the impossibly close distance.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice low and rough as her fingers traveled up your arm, stopping at the curve of your neck. "Do you really think you can hide this from me?"

Your eyes locked with hers, and the weight of her gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. It was overwhelming, like she could see every thought and emotion you were trying to bury.

"I… I don’t know what you’re talking about," you managed to say, but your voice shook, and Wanda’s eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

"Don’t you?" she replied, leaning closer, her breath warm against your skin. "Then why are your lips trembling when I’m this close?"

Her fingers trailed along your jawline until she gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under the intensity of the moment. "Wanda, I…"

"Come on, sweetheart," she interrupted, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head, her lips hovering mere millimeters from yours. "I’m waiting."

The silence between you was electric, the air so thick it was hard to breathe. And then,almost instinctively, you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the moment."I… I’m nervous."

Her lips twitched into a predatory smile—a wolf savoring its prey.

Hearing your confession, Wanda finally closed the gap, her lips capturing yours with an almost calculated precision yet brimming with fervor. The kiss demanded a response, coaxing you to cast aside any hesitation or fear.

You clung to her, your hands gripping her arms like lifelines, and Wanda pulled you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in a possessive grip.

When she pulled back, her eyes gleamed, and her victorious smile left you breathless.

"That’s all I needed," Wanda murmured, her voice soft as her fingers trailed through your hair. "Just a little honesty."

“Wanda…” you whispered to yourself, finally letting out the breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. The sound of footsteps in the distance made the two of you step apart. She smiled, that lazy, secretive smile, as she adjusted her hair like nothing had happened. Yet, before you could even try to collect yourself, you heard her voice from the next section:

“Oh, and darling? Bring me a coffee. I like mine strong, no sugar, and hot. Just like you.” She winked at you, teasing.

With your face completely red, you tried to focus on organizing the books, but you knew her smile would be the last thing you’d be able to forget that day.

“I’ll be back later,” she said in a nonchalant tone, leaving you there with trembling legs and a racing heart.

At night, the pattern repeated. As you climbed the stairs to your room after a family dinner, you checked your phone, and there she was again, as if she were everywhere all at once.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me right now.”

And then came the calls, always after your study sessions—long calls filled with comfortable silences, soft laughter, and conversations that seemed simple but always carried an undertone. You felt, somehow, that Wanda was shaping you, pulling you deeper into her world.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt alive again. The world, once so predictable, had gained color once more. Every shy smile of yours, every hesitant response, was like a spark reigniting something she hadn’t realized had gone out.

The control she held over you was like a masterpiece she sculpted with patience and care. But beneath her obsession, there was something deeper: a silent fear that you might slip away.

Still, she never let it show. The next day, the ritual began again, and you, without even realizing it, surrendered more and more to the web Wanda wove around you.

Wanda sat at the dinner table, twirling a wine glass in her hand with a distracted air. Vision moved through the room with calculated steps, his presence always meticulous, always restrained. But tonight, there was something different. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

“You’ve been… distant,” he began, stopping beside the table. His voice was calm but carried a concern that didn’t feel genuine.

“Distant?” Wanda repeated, not lifting her gaze from the glass. A light, almost ironic smile played on her lips. “I’d say busy.”

Vision sighed, pulling out a chair to sit down. He placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Busy, then? With what, exactly? It doesn’t seem to be with the family.”

His tone was accusatory, but Wanda didn’t flinch. She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were calm, cold. “With what I’ve always been: trying to keep everything running. Someone has to do it, since you’re always off on your ‘business trips.’”

“Oh, so that’s it?” Vision asked, leaning slightly forward. “This is about me? About my trips? Wanda, you knew from the beginning that my work was part of who I am.”

“Just as my life is part of who I am,” she countered, her voice gaining a firmness that made him hesitate. “And yet, you expect me to mold myself to your world, to fit into it without question. But maybe I’ve started questioning.”

Vision blinked, confused, trying to grasp what she meant. “Wanda, that’s not fair. We built this together.”

“Built?” She laughed, but there was no humor in her laugh. “Vision, we followed a script. One you wrote, but never bothered to ask if I wanted to act in it.”

The silence between them was deafening until Vision, weary, shook his head. “What do you want, Wanda? What’s the solution to this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room. The walls, the furniture, the carefully organized life they had built together. A life that, not long ago, had seemed enough.

But now...

Her thoughts drifted to you. To the warmth of your shy smile, to the way your eyes lit up when she said something that touched you. Thinking of you was like breathing fresh air after years of suffocation.

The weight on Wanda’s shoulders eased instantly. As if all the problems with Vision, all the arguments, were nothing but distant noise.

“I don’t know what I want,” she finally replied, standing from the table and picking up her wine glass. “But I know I won’t find the answer here.”

She left the room without looking back, leaving Vision alone, lost in his thoughts. Climbing the stairs, Wanda felt lighter. The world seemed less oppressive when she thought of you.

[...]

Another Sunday, another sermon. The day dragged on at a pace Wanda found nearly cruel. The pastor spoke enthusiastically about patience as a virtue, though ironically, he seemed to lack any urgency in concluding his message. She sat on the pew with her arms crossed, trying not to sigh audibly.

Her sharp eyes scanned the congregation, searching for anything to distract her restless mind. But there was nothing beyond familiar faces, whispered conversations, and children failing to stay still.

Same as always, she thought, as boredom settled in with a vengeance.

But then, as the sermon finally drew to a close, Wanda caught something intriguing. Two rows ahead, her mother was speaking with Dotty. Their voices were low, almost conspiratorial, but Wanda had a near-supernatural ability to pick up details when she wanted to.

A fragment of conversation snagged her attention.

"I just don’t know if we can trust leaving her alone. She’s so... restless at times," her mother’s soft, worried voice floated over, accompanied by polite smiles exchanged with Dotty.

"Wouldn’t it be a good idea to take her with you?" Dotty suggested, leaning in slightly.

"Oh no, that would ruin the mood of the trip. We need some time for ourselves," her mother replied, sounding embarrassed. "But I also can’t leave Y/n completely unsupervised. She needs someone responsible, someone who understands her... challenges."

Wanda nearly laughed aloud at that. Challenges? It was an almost endearing understatement.

Curiosity piqued, she rose discreetly, adjusting the tight dress that hugged her silhouette perfectly. Her steps were light, almost inaudible, as she approached the two women. Once close enough to be noticed, she smiled politely, her expression more friendly than genuine.

“Hello, ladies! What do you talk about?” Wanda delivered her most dazzling and irresistible smile to the pair.

Both Dotty and your mother turned simultaneously, visibly startled by the sudden interruption. But Wanda knew how to disarm any reaction with her magnetic presence and impeccably practiced smile.

“Wanda! What a surprise to see you wandering over to this side,” her mother responded, clearly grateful for the unexpected distraction. ���We were discussing the trip my husband and I are planning.”

“Oh, a trip,” Wanda said, her eyes lighting up with apparent curiosity. “Where to?” She infused her voice with interest that sounded fake to her but seemed to escape her mother’s notice.

“A second honeymoon in Santorini,” her mother replied with a hint of pride, while Dotty murmured something impressed.

“How romantic,” Wanda murmured, tilting her head slightly. “But you seem tense, dear. What’s the matter?”

Your mother sighed, adjusting her pearl necklace in a nervous gesture. “My concern has a name and a rebellious streak, as you know… Young people these days,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. “I don’t want to leave Y/n alone, you know how she is... independent, yet still so young.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed, a slight crease of concern appearing on her face. She sat down beside the two women, as if genuinely interested. “Y/n is truly a special young lady. And you’re right; leaving someone so sweet and full of life alone could be risky. There are so many dangers...”

“Exactly!” your mother exclaimed, seemingly comforted by Wanda’s empathy.

“Well,” Wanda continued smoothly, “if you need someone to look after her while you’re away, I’d be happy to help. I already spend a lot of time with her at the library and have developed quite a... fondness for her.”

Dotty narrowed her eyes briefly, but her expression quickly returned to neutral. Your mother, on the other hand, lit up with immediate relief.

“Would you really do that? Oh, Wanda, that would be a godsend. I’ve been so worried.”

“Of course,” Wanda responded, placing a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It would be my pleasure. Besides, Y/n and I get along very well. I’m sure she’ll feel comfortable with me.”

“Perfect then,” your mother said, visibly lighter. “I’ll confirm the travel details and let Y/n know tonight. You’re an angel, Wanda.”

Dotty, however, observed in silence, her faint smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You’re very kind, Wanda,” she remarked, her voice carrying something that might have been admiration or suspicion.

Wanda simply smiled, not letting her perfect mask slip. “I enjoy helping where I can.”

As she walked away, Wanda felt a wave of satisfaction swell inside her. The thought of having you under her roof, within the comfort of her home, made something tighten in her chest in a way that was almost painfully sweet.

“My little one,” she thought, nearly laughing at the irony. “They have no idea how much you’re already mine.”

The day had finally arrived. The morning seemed brighter than usual, sunlight flooding the living room as your parents finalized preparations for their trip. Your mother was radiant, dressed in an elegant outfit with a smile as bright as the sky outside. Your father, more reserved, was still double-checking the documents and tickets with his usual seriousness.

You were sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, trying to mask the unease you felt. It wasn’t their trip that bothered you but the idea of spending so much time under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Sweetheart, come here,” your mother called, breaking through your thoughts. You got up slowly and walked over to her. She held your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “I know it feels strange to leave you here, but I promise it’ll be quick. And Wanda is wonderful; you’ll be in good hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt.

Your father approached, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Be a good girl and don’t give us any reason to worry, okay?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. It was her.

Your mother opened the door with an enthusiasm that seemed slightly forced, though you knew she truly trusted Wanda. And there she was: impeccable as always, dressed in neutral tones but exuding a natural sophistication that was magnetic.

“Wanda! So good to see you,” your mother exclaimed, giving the woman a brief hug.

“Good morning,” Wanda replied with a warm smile, her eyes discreetly flicking to you for a fraction of a second before returning to your parents. “I hope you’re excited about your trip.”

“Oh, very,” your mother said, pulling Wanda inside. “And you’re sure it’s no trouble to take care of her?”

“Not at all,” Wanda said quickly, casting a glance your way that made your stomach tighten. “It’ll be a pleasure. Y/n is a lovely young woman, and we’ve already spent quite some time together at the library. It’ll be wonderful to have more time with her.”

Your mother smiled, satisfied with the answer. After a few more hurried goodbyes, your parents finally left, promising to call as soon as they landed.

The door closed, and suddenly, the house was silent—a silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air. You and Wanda stood still for a moment, her eyes fixed on yours in a way that made your skin tingle.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, her voice soft but carrying something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Just the two of us now.”

There was a calm certainty in her words, one that made you feel any resistance would be futile. She smiled, picking up your small suitcase and setting it aside.

“Where should we begin?” she asked, her gaze almost predatory as it locked onto you.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you offered her a shy smile. “Hi…” you whispered.

Wanda bit the corner of her lip and strode toward you, her hands finding your waist. “Hi, little one…” she purred into your ear, making you gasp. “I missed you.”

Wanda pulled you into a firm yet gentle embrace, enveloping you completely. Her arms around your waist felt both protective and possessive, and you couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine. Her scent—a mix of expensive perfume and something inherently her—surrounded you, and you almost closed your eyes, as if you could lose yourself in that moment.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and melodic, as if it were a secret shared only between the two of you. “How did you manage so well without me around?”

Your voice faltered for a second before you managed to respond, a slight tremor in your words. “I… don’t know. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her fingers reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead. The touch was soft but deliberate, and you felt your face heat even more under her intense gaze.

“You’re so sweet,” Wanda said with a smile that seemed maternal but carried something more, something that made your pulse quicken. “And so obedient… I bet you did well.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling both embarrassed and strangely pleased by her words. It felt so comforting, her treating you this way… maternal? Wanda tilted her head, studying you as if reading every thought.

“It’s okay, Dekta. You can relax with me,” she said gently, her fingers now lightly caressing your cheek. “Let me take care of you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

You nodded, your submission clear and genuine in the gesture. Wanda seemed pleased, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Your posture was stiff, almost awkward—as if you weren’t used to this kind of comforting presence.

Wanda noticed your hesitation, the way your shoulders remained tense as if you still weren’t sure whether to relax or keep your defenses up. She didn’t rush anything; instead, her movements were calculated, gentle, as if handling something fragile and precious.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” she whispered, taking your hand and guiding you onto her lap. “Sit here.”

You obeyed without thinking, settling onto her lap with your hands nervously resting on your knees. Wanda didn’t speak for a moment, simply letting her presence envelop you, her calmness radiating until it began to seep into you.

When she placed a hand at the curve of your neck, the weight seemed to dissolve all the tension you’d been holding. She slid it gently down your back, drawing lazy, soothing circles that sent waves of warmth across your skin. You closed your eyes reflexively, feeling strangely safe, as if there was no danger in the world while you were there under her touch.

“There,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “Let it all go. Everything holding you back, everything weighing on you… you don’t have to carry any of it now. Not while you’re with me.”

She pulled you closer, making you rest your face against her chest. You felt it rise and fall with her steady, deep breaths. She began to hum softly, and the vibration in her chest lulled you further into relaxation.

Your eyelids grew heavier, and heavier, and heavier. Until the last thing you heard was a barely audible whisper.

“Mommy will make it all go away…”

Wanda felt you completely relax in her arms, the weight of your body now light and surrendered. It was a unique, almost intoxicating sensation to realize how much you trusted her, how willing you were to let go. She knew this went far beyond the physical. It was something emotional, visceral.

She observed you for a moment, your long lashes resting on your cheeks as your breathing slowed, rhythmic and calm. Every small movement of yours seemed so innocent, so vulnerable, that Wanda felt a surge of emotions she hadn't realized she was capable of experiencing. A mix of tenderness, possessiveness, and something burning deep within her: the need to care for you, to protect you... to have you entirely for herself.

She ran her fingers through your hair, gently combing it as she murmured soothing words, almost inaudible. "Good girl… so sweet, so mine…"

Each word was a quiet reminder to herself, an affirmation of the bond she was building between you. Wanda felt a maternal warmth growing in her chest, something she hadn’t felt since her own children. But this was different, deeper. With you, she didn’t just want to protect; she wanted to mold. To guide you until you completely depended on her.

She tilted her head, her lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to sink into the moment, into this role that felt so natural to her. You were perfect like this, Wanda thought. Fragile, delicate, needy.

“My little girl,” she murmured again, with a small, satisfied smile.

And there was something more—a feeling of quiet power. She knew you needed her, that you trusted her in a way no one else could. And it fed something dark and secret within her, a desire to keep you exactly like this: dependent, submissive, hers.

Wanda watched as you slept, your features soft and relaxed. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disrupt the moment. But at the same time, a part of her was already planning what would come next.

She wasn’t in a hurry. You had all the time in the world, and Wanda was willing to make it last. To mold you little by little, to tear down any remaining barriers, until you no longer remembered who you were without her.

“I’ll take care of you, Dekta,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “Forever.”

[...]

You wake up with a start, as if everything has been a dream. However, you find yourself in your room, covered with soft blankets that do not seem like your own. You feel light, in such an intense state of relaxation that it leaves you lethargic.

Descending your stairs, you find two packed suitcases leaning against the door. Reaching the kitchen, you see Wanda taking something out of the oven and upon seeing you, she offers you a brilliant smile.

“Look who’s awake…”

You blink, still drowsy, trying to process the scene in front of you. Wanda is there, impeccable as always, with an apron tied around her slim waist, her hair perfectly arranged, her face illuminated by that smile that seems both welcoming and… dangerous.

“Did you sleep well, Dekta?” she asks, her soft voice laden with a warmth that makes you blush instantly.

You murmur something inaudible, feeling a bit awkward under her penetrating gaze. Wanda places the dish on the counter and approaches slowly, like a predator observing its prey.

“You looked so calm,” she says, her eyes scanning your face, every reaction being silently noted. “I made sure you needed this rest.”

“I… thank you,” you murmur, swallowing hard as she continues to approach.

“No need to thank me, dear,” Wanda replies, now close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod, your throat dry, unable to find words. The way she looks at you, like she can see right into your soul, is both disarming and captivating.

“Come,” Wanda says, extending her hand to you. “Sit down. I made something special.”

You hesitate for a moment before accepting her hand. Her warm fingers wrap around yours, and the touch is enough to make your heart race. She guides you to the table, where plates are elegantly arranged with a breakfast that looks like it came from a culinary magazine.

Wanda pulls a chair out for you, her eyes never leaving yours as you sit down. She leans slightly, adjusting the blanket still draped over your shoulders, and whispers: “Are you comfortable, my little girl?”

You can only nod, feeling your cheeks burn. There is something about the way she says these words, the way she takes care of you, that makes your head spin.

As you eat, Wanda sits across from you, watching with a calm yet unyielding intensity. Each time you look up at her, you feel a warmth rising up your spine.

“You seem nervous,” she comments with a subtle smile, tilting her head. “Is everything alright, Dekta?”

“I just…” you hesitate, your fingers playing with the fork. “I’m not used to… this.”

“To what?” she asks, her voice low and inviting, her eyes fixed on yours.

“To someone taking care of me like this,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky.

Wanda smiles, this time with a depth to her expression. “Then it’s time for you to get used to it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with a tension you don’t know how to dissipate. Wanda reaches out again, this time holding your hand across the table, her fingers tracing soft circles on your skin.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod slowly, your eyes locked with hers.

“Then show me,” Wanda continues, her eyes darkening slightly. “Show me that you trust me, Dekta.”

Your heart races. You know what she is insinuating, you know what she is expecting. But taking the initiative seems as frightening as it is necessary.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and slowly lean over the table. Wanda’s gaze never wavers, encouraging you, pulling you closer.

And then, finally, your lips meet hers in a hesitant but emotion-filled kiss. Wanda responds immediately, but with delicate control, guiding you as if she knows exactly how to make you comfortable.

When you pull away, breathless, Wanda’s eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and something more, something that makes your legs tremble.

“Such a brave little girl…” she whispers, her voice as sweet as it is possessive.

You exhale.

“I’m not a baby.” You say, forcing your pride.

Wanda clicks her tongue and murmurs something under her breath.

“Oh, yes… You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

But what is this? You’re a girl! And a big one! Why is she talking to you like you’re some stupid child? And why is it sending waves of heat to your core?

Wanda forces you to look at her and meet her intense, wild—and cruel—eyes. You stay like this for a moment, until your body starts to tingle under the effect of her presence.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re squirming all over…” she blows into your ear, making you let out a small moan. “Do you feel strange, my sweet?” you try to escape her, averting your gaze, but Wanda seems determined to see you embarrassed and small in front of her.

You nod your head, trying to stammer a response while being caught up in her.

“Uh, I know, dear. I know…” the older woman murmurs. “But I want you to use your big girl words and tell me where it feels strange.” her voice seems to grow, almost as if she’s holding back.

“I…” You rub your legs together, trying to alleviate the growing burn in your core.

“I know it's hard, isn't it, sweetheart?” You nod vehemently. She’s so close it’s making you lose your senses. “But you’re a smart girl, aren't you? I know you can. Use your words for me, come on, Y/n.”

Breathing deeply, trembling, looking at her, her lips so close to yours you could lean in and capture them. A trembling hand resting against your core.

“Here.”

“Ah, your tummy? Your tummy feels strange?” she places her hand over the spot and starts massaging it, making you automatically let out a moan at the feel of her warm palm.

So close to where you need it most, but so far…

“Eyes open for me, baby.” at the woman’s command, you realize you were so relaxed you had closed your eyes, and upon opening them, you see her most radiant smile.

“Good girl! There you are!” Wanda purrs, making your eyes roll back at the feel of her breath in your ear.

You smiled shyly, loving the taste of her words.

“Do you want anything else, dear?”

You shake your head, feeling your hair mess up with the movement.

“No? It doesn’t feel slimy anywhere else?” the wrinkle in her forehead showed she wasn’t happy.

Her hand, which previously held your cheek gently, now holds your chin, her fingers pinching your cheeks, making a painful pout. Not too harsh in itself, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

"It's not polite for little girls to lie," her tone is severe in a way that makes you feel like you're being chastised.

You whimper at the thought that she might be mad at you.

"I'm sorry, Wanda..." your words come out a bit muffled by the way she’s pinching your cheeks.

Her expression softens and she lowers her face to the crook of your neck, hugging you against her as she places a kiss against your nape.

"I know, dear, it’s okay." she says, rubbing firm circles on your back. "Perhaps I should just check then, hmm?"

Your eyes widen in shock but she just smiles, seeming delighted, as if she didn’t just The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

“I…”

"Big girls know where they feel everything. I thought you were a big girl, Y/n." she arches an eyebrow, provocative.

"I am!" You shout, frustrated.

"Then prove it." Her voice is dark and husky, making the pulse between your legs increase tenfold.

No one has ever touched you down there, thinking about it always made you so nervous. Wanda seems to know this—however, your inexperience seems to please the woman.

With trembling hands, you take her hand—perfectly manicured with red nails, dragging it down below the navel, resting it on top of your panties.

“Oh, sweetheart…” her voice comes out trembling. Wanda presses her fingers to you, making your hips jerk and a high-pitched and needy moan escape. “You’re so beautiful…” she murmurs as if it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

“It… hurts.” whining, you try to move your hips toward her again, offering yourself.

“Do you want Wanda to make it go away?” hearing the woman refer to herself in the third person is strange, you frown, but you nod. “Words.”

“Yes.”

The woman stops all of her stimuli suddenly, making you protest.

“Yes, what?” she prompts something you don’t understand, so she starts moving her hand up to your neck—squeezing, squeezing and squeezing.

“Yes, Wanda…?” the sentence comes out muffled with a hint of insecurity.

Wanda huffs, leaving you confused. What does she want?

She loosens her grip and backs away a bit.

“How about this?” her hands squeeze your hips and rub against the bottom of your stomach, as she makes you straddle her; pulling your body against hers in a way that creates exhilarating pressure on your pleasure point.

A dragging and needy moan escapes your throat.

"Oh, is that good?" Wanda laughs, as you nod weakly.

The dress you wear starts to bunch up around your waist. Wanda's gaze is lost, as if she’s thinking about many things at the same time.

"You’d look lovely in my clothes, kitten." she moans.

Wanda slides her fingers inside your pussy, not deep enough to break your hymen, but to explore.

“Are you getting close, dear?” without thinking, you nod.

She extends one hand to toy with your hard nipples.

"My beautiful girl..." she moans.

Wanda pulls you harder against her. Your sex is so wet, the lewd and sticky sound is audible, while she beams brightly at you.

"Do you hear that? Hear the mess you’re making on my hand?" She taunts, her fingers moving in slow circles, pushing you to the edge.

“I’m going to cum!” you whimper to her with glassy eyes.

“Are you going to make a huge mess on Mommy’s lap?” she was as desperate as you were—dark and wild eyes.

The woman grips your hips even tighter, pressing you against her even faster.

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m here for you!” exploding against her a few seconds later, you let out a loud, high-pitched, irregular cry of pleasure.

Babbling helplessly, fixing your eyes on the sea green of hers, you let her guide you.

“There she is! There’s my pretty girl…” she says, sniffing your skin.

You’ve never felt like this.

Not sure if it was the peak of edging, the constant arousal, or Wanda’s extremely sexy and dominant overall presence. But that orgasm was the most incredible thing you’ve ever experienced.

Wanda pulls you close to her, kissing the top of your head, soothing you, giving you all the time you need to return to yourself. Whispering quiet words of reassurance, and gently caressing your pussy, inducing your aftershock tremors post-orgasm.

“Thank you…”

She laughs softly, combing your hair back from your damp forehead with her fingers. She gives you a kiss, smiling as she sees you trying to caress her shakily.

You cuddle against Wanda, her scent enveloping you like a blanket that warms and calms. Her breathing is steady, a tranquil beat in contrast to the internal turmoil you feel. Your mind is a whirlwind, trying to process everything that happened, but your body seems to have other ideas, sinking deeper into that moment of comfort and surrender.

“Why…” you begin, your voice sounding fragile, hesitant. “Why do I feel like this around you?”

Wanda tilts her head, her green eyes glowing with something you can’t completely decipher. There’s a trace of tenderness, but also something deeper, something that seems almost possessive.

“Like what?” she asks softly, her fingers still stroking your hair.

“Relaxed…” you confess, swallowing hard as you try to find the right words. “As if… as if nothing else matters. As if I can just… let go of everything.”

She smiles, a small smile but full of meaning. “Because you trust me,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And because I make you feel safe, don’t I, my sweet little girl?”

You blush, her words hitting something deep inside you. It’s true. There’s something about Wanda — the way she looks at you, touches you, guides you — that makes all your barriers fall, as if you can finally be yourself without fear of judgment or rejection. But that leaves you vulnerable, and that vulnerability scares you as much as it comforts you.

“It’s… strange,” you admit, lowering your gaze. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Wanda responds, her voice firm but gentle. “You’ve never had someone take care of you like this before, have you?”

You shake your head slowly, feeling tears threatening to form. She’s right. All your life, you’ve built walls around yourself, keeping others at a distance, believing that independence was your only option. But with Wanda, those walls no longer seem necessary.

She leans in and kisses your forehead, a gesture so gentle it makes your heart ache. “You don’t need to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her words resonate within you, like a promise that seems impossible to break. You look at her, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you feel like you can truly believe it.

“Come on,” Wanda says after a moment, stroking your cheek. “I made a strawberry pie, and I want you to try it while it’s still fresh.”

She helps you up, guiding you to the kitchen as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, in her presence, everything really does feel easier, lighter. As though, for the first time, you’re not alone in the world.

Wanda is seated across from you, with a generous slice of strawberry pie balanced on a pristine plate. Her eyes sparkle with joy, and you notice a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

“Now, open up, little girl,” she says, holding a spoonful of the pie right in front of you.

You blink, blushing immediately. “I can feed myself, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Wanda replies, her voice sweet but with a clear tone of amusement. “But where’s the fun in that? Come on, don’t be shy.”

You hesitate, feeling the blush rise even more in your cheeks. But before you can protest again, Wanda tilts the spoon towards your mouth. “Be a good girl,” she murmurs, her eyes playing with an unmistakable gleam.

Sighing, you give in and open your mouth, allowing her to place the spoon inside. The sweetness of the pie explodes on your tongue, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of approval.

“See? I knew you would like it,” Wanda says with a broad smile, but soon the smile turns into a genuine, warm laugh that reverberates through the kitchen.

Hearing that laugh made your heart tighten. It was contagious, and you ended up smiling as well, even as you tried to wipe the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, grabbing her spoon, but before you could reach her, Wanda gently held your wrist.

“Oh, no, dear,” she said, leaning forward. “I said I’m feeding you today. Relax and let me take care of that.”

She dipped the spoon back into the pie and, before you could protest again, was already offering you another spoonful. You shook your head in an exasperated gesture, but obeyed, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and, at the same time, warmed inside.

“I look like a child,” you muttered after swallowing.

“A lovely, sweet, and stubborn child,” Wanda teased, laughing again. “And it pleases me much more than it should. Now, open up again.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed along with her, the tension that always seemed to hover between you momentarily forgotten. For a moment, it was like the world was simple, made only of laughter, strawberry pie, and the strange feeling of being exactly where you should be.

The kitchen was full of relaxed laughter as you and Wanda shared the dessert. The strawberry pie was delicious, but the real sweetness was in the interaction between you two. Wanda, always with that air of control and fun, kept feeding you, insisting on larger spoonfuls despite your protests.

“I swear I’m full!” you said, gently pushing her hand away while laughing. “If I eat more, I will explode like a balloon!”

“Explode? Nonsense,” Wanda replied with a mischievous smile. “You still have space. I’ve barely started.”

“You are impossible,” you muttered, still laughing as you tried to dodge another spoonful. “And if I really explode? Then it will be your fault.”

“If that happens, I will clean up the mess,” Wanda replied casually, but the predatory look suggested something more.

You laughed again, but then Wanda straightened up, looking at the empty plate. She seemed to change her tone suddenly, adopting a more serious air. “Okay, enough pie. Time for you to drink a glass of water and maybe rest some more.

"I want to watch a movie now." You request, with puppy dog eyes. “Not now, dear. Maybe if you behave until evening, I’ll let you choose.” Wanda smiled, getting up, placing the dishes in the sink.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the authoritative tone. “Oh, no, mommy, please!” you said playfully, making a face and stretching your arms dramatically.

The air in the kitchen changed. The earlier lightness was replaced by something denser. Wanda’s eyes darkened, the smile disappearing as she tilted her head slightly as if studying you.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice low and laden.

The blush rose instantly on your face. “I was just joking, Wanda,” you began, but the intensity of her gaze made your voice falter.

“Say. It. Again.” She repeated, moving slightly closer, the tone firm but not aggressive. It was a command, not a request.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. There was something in her eyes, a mix of authority and desire that made you dizzy. With a mixture of shyness and hesitation, you murmured: “Mommy…”

The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

"Good girl," she said softly, leaning in to caress your cheek. "Come. Let's pick your movie now." She takes your hands, pulling you both onto the couch—making your eyes shine as you realize the power of that single little word.

During the chosen movie—Disney's Tangled—Wanda's mind began to work. Hearing you say "Mommy," the woman felt something she hadn't expected: a wave of warmth, a sense of completeness that seemed to touch every part of her being. It was as if a piece of the puzzle she didn't even know was missing had perfectly fallen into place. For a brief moment, she paused, as if time had frozen, absorbing the moment with an intensity that nearly took her breath away.

The word echoed in her mind on a loop, like a melody composed exclusively for her. It wasn't just the sound, but what lay behind it: the surrender, the trust, the recognition. A mix of possessiveness and tenderness flooded her. It was more than desire, more than control—it was something primal, a protective instinct that made her chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

Her fingers stroked your cheek almost reverently, while her eyes burned with intensity. "My little girl," she thought, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized the impact she had on you. There was something deliciously addictive about the way you submitted, even without fully understanding just how much you did.

Wanda had always been in control, always the one leading others, but this was different. With you, there was a perfect balance between the dominance she cherished and the sweetness she secretly craved. And now, hearing you call her that... Well, that was the cherry on top.

The sight of you curled up against her, like a baby seeking maternal warmth, drove her wild. It made her want more and more of you. Seeing you so unaware of her thoughts—your gentle eyes focused on the screen, captivated by the animation's events, so sweet. You resembled a little lamb—so soft and affectionate—that in two days is taking its graceful leaps; in two weeks is playing 'follow the leader.' Your frailty was part of your charm. A lamb is pure innocence, so innocent that people want to possess it or even devour it. People like Wanda...

She inhaled the scent of your hair deeply, feeling the strength of her emotions, while a certainty formed in her mind. You were not just someone under her control—you were hers, and she would do whatever it took to ensure that never changed.

~*~

Be a good girl, Y/n... Wanda's watching

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