#she'll need new paint

[dragonairice]

My sister painted this onto an old watch and wanted to share it! :)

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

Fighting the hardest battle of my life (trying to buy rainbow shoelaces)

[miniimight]

ur dad!sukuna has me on a chokehold and i don't even like that man

lol same, it really came outta nowhere. woke up one day and decided to make him a soft girl dad :(

loosely inspired by this

sukuna had never understood the need to celebrate holidays with family, much less getting together for no reason. and yet, here he was at your grandparents' house in the middle of the school year.

there were a bunch of kids, from toddlers like your daughter to the teenagers of family friends. sukuna made sure you handled all the pleasantries, save the occasional polite nod. he was convinced the only kid worth entertaining was his baby girl, who clung to him as she tried to adjust to the new environment.

she was quieter than usual, and he observed her as she pulled at her lip, turning her head into his neck when unknown relatives crowded you to congratulate you on your little family.

you and sukuna found a corner to hole up in, talking to each other while you sampled all the drinks and food at the party. soon, your daughter grew restless, wanting to go play with other kids.

sukuna watched her with deadly precision as she and the other kids brought out toy cars and dolls, driving them around on the city rug below their feet.

he had crossed his arms, only for you to wiggle your hand into the crease of his elbow seconds later. eyes still on his daughter, he leaned his head down a bit to show he was listening.

"i thought you'd enjoy the free drinks." you said.

he snorted. "i'd enjoy my bed right about now."

you swat his bicep with your free hand before hugging into his side. "at least baby's having fun."

he just hummed in response. "she's gonna want one of those stupid rugs."

you roll your eyes. "you know she'll forget about it by tomorrow morning."

his lips pulled up. she would. and he'd still get it for her.

soon, gifts for the kids were being exchanged. why? just for existing, apparently. you left sukuna's side to capture your daughter's reaction on camera.

your baby glanced at you as she was presented with the gift bag.

"go 'head, baby." you nod, and she ripped the tissue paper to shreds before reaching her whole arm into the bag. she pulled out a tiara, studded with gems and painted gold, along with a fluffy dress.

an immediate chorus of awwws echoed around the room as she held up her loot. she raised the tiara over her head, but didn't manage to get it to sit right.

"help." she chirped, waddling over and holding the tiara to you in her outstretched hand. "mama."

sukuna's heart squeezed at the sight, gaze following you as you retreated to the bathroom to help her change into her costume.

a few minutes later, you emerged, setting her next to your grandparents.

another wave of awws made sukuna's head lift from his phone. always watching, he noticed how his kid's wide eyes darted from unknown face to unfamiliar face. her chin tucked down, her chubby neck doubling up as her bottom lip pushed out into a pout.

he'd know that look from a mile away. he stood a little straighter, frowning.

at that point, your mommy senses tingled, pulling yourself from the conversation you were wrapped up in. "aw, honey, no..." you cooed, stooping to her level and trying to catch her eye.

she whined, pushing off the couch and shrinking under the crowd of people, wringing the hem of her dress as she walked through the crowd.

her eyes were scanning the room, looking up at every adult and getting closer to tears when she saw they weren't the one she was looking for.

eventually she broke into the kitchen area, locking eyes with her father and barreling towards him. sukuna crouched down, his arms spread to catch her.

as soon as she gripped him, he lifted off. "hey, kid. rough night, huh?"

she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her arms hugging the expanse of his shoulders. he nodded and rubbed her back. "me too."

she raised her head abruptly and touched her tiara. her eyes so serious, as if she'd base her own feelings about her new stuff on how much her father liked it.

"yes, i see it. very pretty." he placed her onto the kitchen counter, smoothing the crinkled mess of her dress. his tone could be perceived as dry or near-monotonous, but his intention was the complete opposite. "my, my, were you ever going to tell us we were living with a princess?"

a toothy grin spread on her face, and sukuna was blown away yet again by the way he was able to make someone so genuinely happy.

"look." she started twirling around.

sukuna shook his head with a low chuckle. her spin was anything but graceful. he applauded her showcase, his back shielding them both from the noise surrounding them. a little bubble just for them <3

your hand rested on his back, signaling your approach. sukuna lifted his arm, resting it on your waist when you stood at his side.

you frowned as you studied your little girl. "you feeling okay, baby?"

she poked her tongue out.

"i'll take that as a yes." you kissed her cheek. "wanna get outta here?" you ask your husband.

"fuck yes." he grumbled, immediately slinging the baby bag over his shoulder and grabbing your daughter. you three were out the door in the next minute.

your toddler started screaming at the burger king y'all were passing on the way home. you gave sukuna a look, silently warning him not to do anything illegal in order to appease her request. as usual, he soothed you with a squeeze of the hand, pulling a jerky, very illegal u-turn across oncoming traffic into the burger king lot.

you sighed, your daughter giggling happily as the car came to a stop.

after you got your food, she placed the crown she got on her father's head. "princess." she said.

"oh?" you side glanced your husband, his glare unsuccessful in deterring you from snickering. you encourage your daughter, "yes, baby, isn't he the prettiest?"

"no." she looked at her father in disgust. "me."

"oh, my apologies. you are so right."

sukuna scoffed. "where'd you think you got your looks from, silly girl?" he crossed his arms, leaning back in the booth. he made no move to take off the cardboard crown, though.

you gave him a look. "i helped too??"

he grinned deviously and pulled you into his side, squeezing your hips. "don't kid yourself, doll. you didn't even try."

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[ddollfface]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞!

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗜𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲?; 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗕𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗼 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

It's like the tangy taste that lingers on your tongue when you bite into a ripe peach, crawling throughout your body in an explosion of emotions. It's warm, pleasing, and spontaneous, never letting you get the hang of it. There's never any consistency; it's like living life on the edge, never having a dull moment with her. Her girly adventures, no matter how keen you are on such things, always find a way into your heart through doing silly fashion shows, trying on each others' clothes, going to pet stores, and cooing at the little bunnies and fishies!

You're nights are filled with chisme, constantly talking about the latest news on campus. Though you're not as invested as she is, don't worry, she'll fill you in; she's good like that. She wants to know your every opinion, but ignore the fact that her input shifts with yours, always wanting to agree with you. Though with others she's disinterested, acting clueless and dumb, with you, she's attentive. She's remembering everything she can while she paints your nails, squinting her eyes, and letting her tongue stick on in concentration as she nods along with your story about your shitty chemistry lab partner, (and don't you worry, she dealt with him for spilling water on your shirt ;)

She wants to be the one you run to, the one you call when some asshole dumps you. Don't worry! She's not like everyone else, she'll help! Let her fix your makeup, she will make it all better if you just trust her. Don't listen to everyone else, and instead, just focus on her!

She doesn't want to think of growing old, of losing her hot body. Though she knows that it's soon to come, she wants to live her life to the fullest, and with you of course (that's the most important part)! She's never thought about the afterlife or what's to come, nor the consequences of her own (bad) actions, instead, she wants to feel your lips on hers, silly!

She wants to feel her makeup smudge as her crawls onto your lap, having your hands mold into her body as she leans into you. She wants to appreciate you, to love you for your body and mind. Though she thinks your tits are pretty sweet, she wants to claw out the heart that's underneath, take it for herself, and wrap the arteries around her own.

As her lips trail down your neck, feeling feather-light but baited as her heavy breath fans across your skin, she lets her nails run up and down your back, hoping to feel grounded in your presence. Whenever she's around you, she can't help but feel giddy, to be filled with this needy sentiment that prods at her brain, begging her body to move closer to yours, to press her nose to your neck, and wrap her legs around your waist.

She wants to crawl into your chest, so that's why she scoots closer, pressing your chest to hers, and cupping your jaw with her hands, careful of her acrylic nails. Her eyes are heart-shaped, practically glowing with the obsession that spirals through her body. Almost wrapping around you like a snack, she purses her lips, never letting them space away from your own, always making sure that you're somehow touching.

These emotions are so deep-rooted, keeping her grounded and whole as she's attached her whole identity to you, feeling as though you are one with her. What would she do without her best friend? She needs your validation, she needs your eyes on her, her, her. Don't look at that guy, or another girl for that matter, you're eyes should only be on her and her alone.

She can be everything and anything you want, just tell her! Tell her she's pretty and fulfill this growing obsession in her heart. She doesn't know what she'd do without you, and she wants to you to feel the same, so that's why she always has her arms around you. No matter where you are, her lips are pressed to your neck, as if a reminder that she's there, always. She wants to be there for you, so she makes you aware of her presence, so you get just as caught up on her as she is to you.

[marvelfilth]

Let's run away

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: it's your wedding day and you can't be seen with Natasha

Masterlist

“Y-you shouldn't be here,” you pant, bare shoulders digging into the wall you're pressed against. “She'll be back any moment, you need to leave.”

Natasha hums against your neck, nibbling and sucking gently enough not to leave a mark. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, the corset of your wedding dress making your breath short.

“I'm serious, Nat. You can't be here.” You try to push her away, guilt settling in your chest.

You glance in the mirror - your hair is tousled, tresses falling from the immaculate bun, and your makeup is smudged, Natasha's lipstick smeared all over the lower half of your face, your lips painted two different colors after all of the bruising kisses.

“Let's run away,” she whispers, pulling away just enough for you to hear her, “just the two of us, far away from here.”

You close your eyes, wanting nothing more. But you know you can't.

“You need to go.” You firmly push her away, adopting a serious expression. “Wanda-” you gasp when she lowers her lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear, before sucking on your earlobe, “Wanda can't see you, not here.”

She sighs, resting her forehead against your shoulder. You hold her close, savoring the moment.

“We have ten minutes before-”

Natasha jumps away at the new voice, her face growing paler than your dress. She looks almost scared.

“You.” Wanda's voice drops dangerously low, her expression furious. She glances at you for a second, taking in your ruffled appearance and lipstick stains on your neck and face - a flicker of red swirls in her eyes at that. You gulp, torn between trying to explain yourself and simply letting it all blow out.

“Wanda…”

“Don't Wanda me!” She screeches, pushing a finger into your chest before turning on her heels and advancing on Natasha. “Do you know how long it took me to get her hair to stay in that bun?!” She starts, and you close your eyes, cringing. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to make her stay in this room and not come searching for you?” Natasha looks away, biting on her bottom lip to keep in a smug smile. “Not to mention the fact that you're not supposed to see each other at all! It's bad luck!”

She finally takes a breath, you can almost see the steam around her head. You do feel a little guilty having messed up your best friend's hard work, but it was worth it - you haven't seen Natasha since yesterday.

“We're very sorry,” you mutter, your lips stretched in a smile.

She snorts, lips pursed in a frail attempt to hide her own smile. “Get back in the chair, we have-” she glances at the clock “- eight minutes left! You're lucky I love you both,” she grumbles, rummaging around her makeup purse.

Natasha carefully steps around her and presses one last kiss on your waiting lips. “I'll see you at the altar,” she whispers, beaming.

“See you at the altar,” you giggle, stealing another kiss for good measure.

[joltrify]

experimentations ft. the Artpop queen herself

Silly little (not so little) unrelated HC I developed later under the cut

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

🎀- HC that EVE's most normal hobby - when not occupied with other things - is repainting dolls 🎀- Like in a blue moon you can catch her at the hobby lobby in mom jeans and a cardigan just looking for materials

★- In her down time (which is a bit rare these days) Nadia'll pick those ball-jointed Barbie/Bratz/MH dolls and give them a complete makeover ☆- While she's making them she's fervently thinking 'I will love you in a way that no one else EVER has' and she treats them all that way ★- She'll repaint them in the most unconventional ways possible but they're still gorgeous; a perfect reflection of her studio artwork on a body that isn't her own ☆- Sometimes if she's low on fabrics, instead of making a full-sized mockup of her exhibition fits she'll use her dolls to test the outfit design and make a mini version of the fit with small pieces of the final material ★- She's got this HUGE shelf on her pad that's got these fashion icon dolls displayed with their name and inspiration on a little plaque ☆- Whenever something significant happens and she doesn't want to paint, she'll hold onto the feeling, good or bad, and jot down an idea for a new doll's look ★- and she DOES truly love each of them - though she may have had to learn to love one in particular

🎀- She picked up the hobby in college (before she met Zuke) but didn't really think anything of it 🌸- It was just a means to practice different makeup looks and pencil techniques without sculpting something - and it was fun! She liked having a cute little gal at the end of the process 🎀- When she came up with the idea of using the dolls as models, she created a doll of herself but made the decision to make its skin completely white 🌸- When Nadia met Zuke, she sort of put the hobby aside to focus on her other art mediums, but she looked at the doll of herself and felt comfortable enough to repaint the right side pink (and she laughed a bit to herself looking at the final result, because it looked... Cute! Just like her other gorgeous dolls...) 🎀- After Rapturica, she didn't feel the need to create a doll based on her feelings as she didn't feel as hurt as she expected, but she did find it really, REALLY hard to look at the doll of herself, so she hid it away... 🎀- she picked up repainting again later but went in HARD - they began to look more artsy and alien, just like her other art pieces 🌸- After graduating she didn't really have time to repaint dolls and focused on creating other arts/music again, only occasionally using them to test outfits (but never the one of herself) 🎀- After the events of NSR though, she picked it up again as a form of self-care. It's something she doesn't have to create for the public eye, and she's rekindled the joy of creating a strange little gal and loving them despite their bizarre quirks. 🌸- ... I think she feels a bit more comfortable looking at the doll of herself now, too.

★- She's probably still got doll repaint videos up on her channel from her college days, hehe. ☆- (She's debating whether or not to make a mini exhibition about the concept of dolls.* Likely not, as she doesn't want to taint the tranquility of the act, but she still likes the idea. It's better to not mix work art with home art, anyway.) (* (How they can reflect their caretaker, they exhibit both confidence and vulnerability, they can be broken and discarded but repaired, they're still images that can be moved in a 3d space however you desire, they rely on a person to actually be 'real' ykyk that kind of thing. the symbolism of dolls.)

The doodle I made in the 3rd picture (above the cut) is inspired by those really pretty doll repaints... I think that that look in particular is one that she tested on a doll first... pre-ugly cry, that is.

Thanks for reading my very silly idea... decorated the bullets with Bows and stars because I felt like it, haha. Have a lovely day~🌸

[kastalani123]

The Riordanverse is, ultimately, a children's series so it's expected that the nitty-gritty, darker details of certain things get omitted. Still, I think it'd be interesting to see the demigods, each raised for slaughter in their own way, be the soldiers, the victims, the prey that they grew up to be for both godly and mortal reasons.

Percy always keeps Riptide in arm's reach, always keeps his fingers curled around it, ready to unsheath it every waking moment. He sits and stands with his back flush against walls, eyes and ears always open to seek the slightest hint of danger. He trusts Paul, he trusts Chiron — he still watches every minute shift of their expression, of their body for warning signs. He keeps outside Dionysus's range, ensures he always has an open exit within reach. The smell of alcohol makes him dizzy, nauseous; his thoughts leave his body sometimes, when it gets bad enough.

Annabeth keeps a packed bag at the bottom of her closet when she stays at her family's home; she has places she can stay and her parents and Chiron have been good, but her feet still itch when they frown a time too many. Nobody knows she still sees spiders sometimes, feels her skin itch with their crawling. She makes Percy swear he'll never leave the room before she wakes up unless it's truly necessary. She puts boards on her bed's edges so she'll never fall while she thrashes from nightmares; falling would only make it worse.

Leo sits far from any open fires and leaves if people start roasting meat; Plan C is used sparingly once he isn't constantly fighting for his life. His tool belt can't make food, but it stores more granola bars than he could ever carry without it. He makes himself near-unnoticeable earplugs after New Year's and he avoids looking at himself; his body is too whole for being blown to pieces and half the time he's sure the chunks are rotting around Camp Half-Blood where they should've fallen. He tries to keep from unnecessary interactions; he can't have things tying him to some place, not when he's mapped out dozens of escape plans. He smiles longer and wider than ever before.

Hazel doesn't wear jewelry; the only exception is a wooden bead bracelet Nico gave her after she rejected a golden necklace. Walls close in around her, dust and liquid clog her throat, stones crush her bones– she comes back to the present. She clings to affection like a drowning man to a piece of wood, but keeps watch for signs that it'll turn against her. Silence haunts her every step; she keeps an MP3 player and headphones with her at all times to drive it away.

Frank gathers up his form and pours it into a mould of himself, does what he can to keep it from spilling through the cracks. His fingers are littered with scars and scratches, with a trail of broken mirrors left behind in their wake. There are always voices arguing in the back of his mind — not his father's, but not his own, either; just a phantom screech pulsing through his head. He drowns them by sinking into new responsibilities, new dangers, shaping himself to fit while trying to remain himself. The crackle of burning wood follows him everywhere he goes and he can do nothing to down it out — only stare at whatever he had managed to save from his suicide to remind himself he does not need to worry about it; he has already crumbled into ash.

Piper dives into Oklahoma, into mortality, like she'll suffocate without it. She remains far from everything, though not far enough to be out of the loop, because she needs to know about every prophecy, every end of the world, every step and challenge her friends face. She calls them on a bronze-infused phone, not a rainbow, even if the camera and the notifications and the everythingness of it blind her like a spotlight and the thrum of electricity runs through her veins like venom. She paints her face a bit misshapen here, a bit discolored there, a bit unsettling everywhere, and Shel understands. She understands and she loves her and she says it's beautiful not in aesthetics but in the potential protection it provides, as Piper intended.

Jason had learned every rule with the mere intention to break it, to tear through the chains of military life that had been clamped around his throat for as long as he could remember. He had chased life, rather than the survival he had clung to for so long — packed every second of his ticking down time with it. Finally with freedom, but so little time with it, he snatched every piece of it he could: a mortal highschool, a movie theatre, a mall shopping spree, a room of his own — all carefully documented in stacks of journals, ever breath of air and glimpse of the sun, with copies upon copies stashed away so that his memories could never again slip away like sand between his fingers, so that his friends had something of him left, after his life of nothingness.

[sujiri]

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ random days with papamin

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: nanami kento x fem!reader, papamin!au, househusband!nanami, married life, fluff

a/n: I love papamin!au sm. I'm loving the headcanon that he's a girl dad.

𐙚 candies

another day with nanami kento and his daughter left home as soon you went to work this morning. particularly, it's not boring that they are home. he makes sure that she's entertained since she's very in need of attention from her parents. a little while later, kento checks their food and supplies and thought to go out. he then dresses his daughter so they can go to the grocery store.

“papa, may we buy this?” she asks as she shows a bag of candy— those orange shaped gummies that's quite popular lately to kids to be exact, to her papa. kento was a bit busy reading the contents of the seasoning that his attention caught. he was planning to buy some ingredients for tonight's dinner. going back, his attention went to his daughter, who is still showing the candies to him. “sweety, you just placed a pack of gummy before that.” after being said, she looks down at the cart and noticed the pack of gummy bear candies she just placed before.

she looks at kento again and he looks back at her without any word. just staring at each other, as if they're reading each other's minds. ah.. there she goes, giving him the puppy eyes. she knows that she's a daddy's girl, therefore she's going to beg for another pack of candies without any use of verbal communication. not until she gives up

“more please?” she asked politely. kento stares at his child again, he wants to say no, but she might be upset to him if he does. while thinking of the right answer, he then remembers your last scolding to your daughter being stubborn after you said no on buying her a new toy, resulting kento thought to take it as an advantage.

“you want mama angry?”

“no, papa.” she quickly answered.

“good.” he simply answers, he even noticed a hint of pout that forms in his daughter's face. it makes him want to chuckle but he hold it back, she's cute after all. victory

𐙚 first day

“papa, we go home now?” his now 5 year old daughter asks as soon they arrived at her school. there's always things for first days and first times, she was all prepared for the special day, she's neatly wearing her ironed uniform and he even mastered to tie her hair into pigtails— all looking pretty. she was so excited these past days because she's going to school as a kindergarten, but right now it seems the bright and thrilled daughter you have turns out to be so nervous and scared. obviously, wants to go home as soon she saw she'll be alone inside a classroom filled with other kids she doesn't know. especially she even saw other kids crying while clinging to their parents begging and telling them to leave at once.

“no, sweety. we just got here and it's your first day.” kento kneels on her height level and patted her head. he notices the quite fear look painted in her face as he lightly pinch her cheek to catch her full attention. “hey sweety, it's gotta be alright, papa will be watching you from outside.” he assures and holds her small hands as she nods. thinking that there is nothing to worry about since she have her papa around.

“me do great, papa!”

“that's my princess, good job.” he smiles and walks to the entrance with her holding her papa's hand.

𐙚 princess

“papa! me going to be princess!” she excitingly says while jumping. kento hums as his lips curve into a smile, looking at her daughter while watching her favorite princess movie. cheering and singing here and there and showing you both how she twirls and dance, imagining like a ‘real’ princess while wearing her new dress you both gifted.

“you're already a princess, dear.” you said and your daughter clings to your lap. “papa will be my prince!” her eyes sparkles and you both look at kento who has a soft look to his world. he can't help but smile, kento stands up and holds both her hands since she was raising it. your husband and daughter dance in front of you, filling with laughter and giggles your home. “mama dance too!” she reaches her hand to you— you have no hesitation to join your dearests.

“anything you want as long its you, our princess.”

[livingdeadhorse]

idk what this is. i like robots. i’ll clean these up later. i think.

anyways while drawing these I started thinking abt like. idk does this count as an AU.

General shit:

I didn't make it clear, but the robots that have pupils were built without a hardcoded purpose. They've always been free to explore what they want to do. The robots with fully colored "scleras" were created with a purpose from the jump, so their creators didn't feel the need to make them appear more "human".

The more expensive a robot's parts are, the less clunky it is.

Right now, I'm going with "their human family built them" but that's liable to change.

The designs are also liable to change because uh. duh.

Celestia Ludenberg:

Viewed the robots with an imbued purpose as interesting and superior (something something humanity's advancement). She wants to be praised like that, so she emulates them

Her cat loves how much heat she radiates so it's always near her.

Most of her upgrades are cosmetic but if they aren't, they're stupid. She won't upgrade her CPU or her motherboard, but she'll load up with three 4090s that her other components can't even keep up with. Yes, she does it to flex.

She'll distract from bootleg, refurbished, or shoddily painted parts by turning on her RGB. It gets annoying.

She knows that she's fairly unsettling and she revels in it.

All things considered, her cable management is pretty good.

Her gambling skill is still just luck here, but she tells everyone it's because she has a never-seen-before GPU(& CPU) that does calculations at insane speeds.

Most don't believe her but have no way to disprove her lie.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

I can't decide if he was built by his father or his grandfather.

Either way, he was built before Toranosuke's downfall, so his internals were all pretty expensive for the time. Luckily for him, that means he was slightly future-proof and has a viable upgrade path.

Unluckily for him, this means he's stuck with really old parts and his 8gb of RAM can barely keep up in a 32gb world sadge

His chassis is built from secondhand or scrap parts. It's why his joints are so ancient in comparison to the rest of him and why he has so much cabling that he can't seem to manage.

Shit chassis = shit airflow = he is always overheating

BUDDY IS YOUR CPU BURNING HOW IS THERE SMOKE

Older tech = LOUD AF. The class bought him new fans to avoid the loud ass whirring. It's not quiet but he used to sound like a jet engine.

He runs on Debian. It was originally going to be Arch since it's lightweight but Debian's whole "old but stable" reputation fits him more. I don't see him properly dealing with bleeding edge software anyways.

His room is filled with past HDDs that no longer have storage. He deems all educational material important so he refuses to delete any lessons. He doesn't have the money for SSDs.

Mukuro Ikusaba:

Is usually in reconnaissance mode, meaning she has a shit ton of hidden cameras in her chassis

This used to benefit Fenrir. Now it benefits Junko.

She can have her parts shifted around with no issue to make room for a better arsenal.

She’s durable in her reconnaissance mode but she’s nigh on untouchable in her combat mode. Her chassis gets 10x bulkier and she can split her attention to several different tasks on the battlefield.

Fenrir Mercenary Group doubles as a weapons company. Mukuro is the only model of her kind though.

They tried to give her reconnaissance model the look of a “normal girl” so she could gather info more efficiently. They failed real bad. They also didn’t account for the fact that Mukuro isn’t good at socializing.

She allocates a CPU core to a process dedicated to Junko. 24/7 365

She believes herself to be less capable of emotion than she actually is. She can’t seem to find the system process that triggers such painful emotions.

Chihiro Fujisaki

Each “fold” in her skirt doubles as a screen. Think of the skirt as having two layers: the top shell and the under shell. The top shell is what doubles as a screen.

Optimized her hardware to work on code as fast as possible (fingers, skirt, etc).

She tends to test out new software on herself regardless of their compatibility with her pre-existing shit. She constantly has to reinstall her OS, but it’s all fun for her.

Speaking of her OS, I was going to make her run on Gentoo but IDK cause of the compile times. It’d be faster if she used distcc but I can’t see her screwing over her classmates like that lol.

So I’m between Nix and Arch.

Insecure about the fact that she overhauled her original model so extensively. Got made fun of for being a ‘defective’ robot. Her father supports her modifications but she still feels bad about having ‘failed’ somehow.

Cue identity issues

She helps out her classmates when it comes to repairs.

Tendency to stay up programming leads to high uptimes. If her friends notice her lagging or crashing, they’ll try to get her to shut down. (In a computer sense lol, not an emotional shut down)

Do y’all remember the xz utils backdoor? Yeah that’s how extensively she combs through code.

Sayaka Maizono

I can’t decide if she was built to be an idol or was originally some other type of robot.

Loves to make kids smile, so she has a sort of candy mechanism in her arm.

Everything about her glows or spins. You will never get bored looking at her.

Her skirt isn’t actually see through I just didn’t feel like erasing the hip joints lmao.

If corpos give her manager enough money, she has to perform with literal ads on her.

State-of-the art facial recognition software. It makes her fans feel special to have their names remembered.

She has a regular sleep cycle due to how load-intensive her everyday life is. Has to shut down for a couple hours every week at least.

Her psychic ability is just her running a million calculations based on people’s behavior and sensing which one is most plausible. This feature is in place to avoid PR disasters during interviews or public appearances.

There really aren’t enough worker’s rights regulations in place for robots.

The company gets alerts whenever she freaks tf out, so she feels even more stifled and repressed. Chihiro helped remove this.

Kyoko Kirigiri

Can’t decide if she was built by her father or grandfather. Probably just built by Jin and he “left” her in Fuhito’s care.

Fuhito made her go through several modifications, hardcoding his own investigative skills into her system.

Her grandfather loves her but has fucked up ideas about her own autonomy.

The events of DR:K still happen. She chose not to replace her hands.

Fuhito doesn’t make much use of a backdoor in her system anymore. He used it a lot more when she was a child but he sees her as a viable heir of the Kirigiri clan now. Chihiro isolated the backdoor to a separate SSD anyhow.

Still complicated father-daughter issues

Everything about her (but her OS) is proprietary, probably commissioned from Towa Industries. Her OS is a fork of Mint. The Windows 7 UI is just because I imagine her grandfather is One of Those lmao.

Has way too many scanners and sensors. She can’t test any evidence herself but she can gather a fair bit of information. Has a vast database for cross-comparison anyways.

Same issues as Togami and Mukuro: sees herself as less capable of emotion than she actually is.

The ramen noodle incident called for actual repairs.

Byakuya Togami

His superiority complex is far worse because he was literally CREATED to be the perfect Togami. You can’t tell him shiiiiiiit.

Gold joints. Scoffs at those with unoptimized cable management or software.

He’s constantly streamlining his own processes. Brings up that he runs on his own OS when Nobody Asked.

Had a similar backdoor to Kyoko’s but Koji did check that one. Obsessively. Nobody would tell Byakuya but He Just Knew. The lack of privacy irritated him. Aloysius helped fix it once Togami finally took over.

Only trusts Aloysius with his repairs. Has a hard time admitting when he needs repairs in the first place so Aloysius hides it under “monthly maintenance”.

Does everything from the terminal even when he 1) shouldn’t and 2) can’t. Bragging rights. He has written a bunch of his own scripts though to speed things up.

Kernel and OS provided to him by Koji. (UNIX-based. Proprietary) Byakuya maintains and builds his own updates. Doesn’t trust cheapskate peasants to do it for him.

Anti-FOSS. For him at least.

Has glasses for the aesthetics. Doesn’t need them.

[chaengluva]

Shy

Regina George x Fem!Reader: 2.6k words

You were so excited to show your girlfriend, Regina, your amazing artwork, but when you see it it’s completely ruined and when you find out who ruined it, your heart breaks. Regina finds the perfect way to cheer you up.

Warnings: Bullying, betrayal, slight angst, smut, Dom!Regina, Sub!Reader, Strap on, Eating out, Fingering, Mommy kink, don't mind Regina calling the strap her cock

I don’t usually write smut so sorry if its bad

In the beginning, Janis and Damien started to ignore you because you were dating Regina. It made you feel very lonely and Regina hated seeing you this way. You were sitting alone in art class, usually Janis and Damien would sit with you, but when they heard the news their heart broke with betrayal.

You pretended that it didn't bother you at all but it really did, they were whispering and giving you dirty looks throughout the whole class, you brushed it off and continued to paint, you were painting a mountain sight with the focus point being a waterfall. "That looks amazing Y/n!" The teacher says walking past, you smile, feeling proud of yourself, "Thanks miss."

You look over at Janis and Damien, seeing that they look at each other and roll their eyes, you sigh deeply and put your focus back on your artwork and add some final touches to the piece. The bell rang, you packed up all your stuff and left the artwork up so it could dry, you grabbed your bag and headed to the cafeteria.

You smiled when you saw Regina and quickly sat down next to her, she could feel the sadness in your body just by the way you sat down and how your smile wasn't genuine, she pulled you closer by your waist and leaned down slightly to whisper in your ear, "What's wrong baby?"

You look up at her with sad eyes, "I just don't get it, Janis and Damien will never let this grudge go." Regina sighs, pushing hair behind your ear, "Yeah It's going to take them a while to come to their senses, Let's talk about something that makes you happy?" You smile, "Well The teacher said she liked my artwork today, I really liked what I did!"

Regina smiled at you, "Well come on then, show me what you did." Regina said getting up, you smile brightly, dragging her to art class, you don't notice but Janis and Damien Smirk as you go to the art class.

You made it to the class and opened the door, confused why it's not locked. You brush it off and walk straight in and turn the lights off, you walk to where your artwork was drying, you look at it and gasp at what you see, Regina is standing behind you and gaps. "Y/n?"

Someone had poured black paint over the whole canvas, the painting was not dry yet so there was no saving the artwork, "My painting!" You gasp, this was the art work you had for an assessment that was 50% of your final grade and It was due in two days, you start to panic and the tears come to your eyes.

"It was good! Someone ruined it." You defended, she pulled you in for a hug, giving you comfort, "Don't worry baby..We will find out who did this." You nod, she wipes your tears and takes you to the principal's office.

You tell them what happened, the principle says that she'll check the footage, you ask if you allowed an extension on the assessment but she doesn't give you one, you start to panic again, Regina pulls you close to her and comforts you, "Baby it's okay, we will go to the shops after school and get whatever you need, I'll stay up with you and I'l willing to pay all the money in the world."

You smile at her words, they make you calm down and panic a little less. You wished you could get an extension but Regina knew you could do it, she knew you were talented and you could do anything if you put your mind to it.

After school the two of you rushed outside and when in her car, she drove to the art shop and you got everything that you needed, new brushes, a canvas, a canvas stand, paints, and all the other things that would make your artwork stand out from everyone else in the class.

The total ended up being over $300, Regina didn't seem to mind paying that much but you weren't going to let it go to waste. When you go to her house you set up everything straight away and began putting your full focus on that, Regina didn't want to disturb you so she went up to your room while you painted, a few hours passed and you still haven't moved from your spot, Regina came down and started to make you some dinner.

She saw that your artwork was coming along, you still had a while to go but you were doing really well for the time limited amount of time you had, she pulled you away and made you have a break while you ate your dinner, you didn't want to waste any time so you ate your food quickly and went back to painting your picture, This time Regina stayed with you, making sure that you didn't stay up too late.

It was 12am, you were staring to yawn and the artwork was almost finished, Regina came up behind you, "Babe, It's time for bed." You shook your head, determined to finish the artwork, "No.." you yawned, "I have to finish this.." Regina pulled you away and you didn't pull back this time, you still had another day and you were nearly finished so you didn't seem to mind.

The next morning, you get up early, way before Regina gets up. You start finalising your artwork, making sure that everything is done. "How long have you been up for?" A voice says, breaking the long silence. "Since 5am." Regina sighs, she sees that your artwork is finally done and it looks amazing!

You let it dry for the whole day, feeling confident about bringing it into class and showing whoever did this to your other artwork that you can get a better mark than them even though they tried to set you up. You walked into class and as soon as you sat down the principal walked in and asked you to come to the office. The whole class turned to look at you, saying "ooooo"

You rolled your eyes and got up and walked to the office with her, when you got there, you saw Janis and Damien sitting there, looking guilty, you walked in looking confused. "We found out that these are the people who ruined your artwork."

You looked at them and all the years you spent together had all gone to waste, you didn't even let them say a thing, you ran out and headed to the oval, you ran into someone, you looked up and thankfully it's your girlfriend. "Baby? What's wrong?" She asks, pulling you in for a hug. "J-Janis and Damien were the ones who ruined my artwork."

"Oh baby." She hugged you tighter as she thought of payback, but then she looked back at you and realised that she doesn't need to get those pathetic losers back. You redid your artwork and she knows that Janis and Damien will get the punishment they deserve. (She will definitely be getting them back)

Regina took you back to her place straight after, you were really hurt with what the the people you called your friends did to you, Regina knew how sad you were and how hurt you were, she comforted you, cuddling you close on her big bed, she would whisper sweet words into your ear, playing with your hair.

You had stopped crying after a while, Regina noticed your body to feel lighter and more relaxed, she looked at your face and smiled brightly to see that you were fast asleep, she quickly got up and set up a movie night for the two of you, downstairs, she made her mom cook dinner because she doesn't know how to cook.

While her mom was cooking she sat down on the bench and looked up pranks, but not one of them was good enough revenge for what Janis and Damien did.

"Mom.." She mumbled, getting her attention, her mom looked up, "Yes honey." Her mom said, Regina took a deep sigh before asking, "If someone who you love friends did something really bad to them, would you want to get revenge?" She looks at her daughter, rolling her eyes, "No."

Regina rolls her eyes back, "We think the opposite, are you sure I wasn't switched at birth?" Her mum giggles, continuing to scroll through her phone, still not being able to find anything that seems worth wasting her time on.

She hears light feet walk down the stairs, she smiles brightly, running up to you rubbing your eyes, you're still slightly tired but you feel much better then when you did before. "Baby, change into this shirt and tracksuit pants! We can be matching and post cute Instagram pictures." You smile brightly and jump up, wrapping your legs around her waist, she can't help but smile at your cuteness.

She carries you into the living room, the both of you change into the matching outfits, she takes a few photos of you and you take a few photos of her, and a few selfies together, she smiles as she choses her favourite ones to post to Instagram, putting a cute caption, she gets so many likes as soon as she clicks post, it's still shocking to you. The two of you sat on the couch, you were sitting between her legs, back against her front, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Minutes later, Regina's mom comes out with dinner, the two of you eat while picking a movie, deciding on a cheesy rom-com. "Regina! Your dad and I are going out, I can trust you to not burn the house down?" Regina nods, rolling her eyes.

As soon as the door closes, Regina starts kissing your neck, leaving dark spots all over, her arms go inside your shirt and grab your breasts, giving them a tight squeeze making you let out a loud moan, she smirks, giving you small kisses on the back of your neck, she hears your whimpers and whines and she knows that you want her, which only makes her want you more, she flips the two of you around, so you lying down on the couch and she's hovering over you. "Are we doing this?"

You nod smiling, taking your shirt off, allowing her to kiss your breasts, leaving more dark spots, she sticks her tongue  out and licks in between your breast, all the way back up to your lips, repositioning herself so now she's stranding your hips, she kisses you again, this time more slow and sloppy, when you pull away, strings of saliva fall down slowly after.

Regina's hands slowly go down and inside your tracksuit pants, she tickles your inner thighs, making you squirm, she looks down and see's that you're hating the teasing she's doing. "You want this?" She asks, kissing your forehead. You nod, not being able to even think of words at this point in time. She shakes her head, unsatisfied with your answer, "Words baby." You glared into her eyes, "Yes. I want it."

She pulled her hand out of your tracksuit pants, leaving you a little confused, she repositioned herself again so she was sat up right on the couch, leaning back, arm resting on the arm rest beside her, "Then earn it." She said, clicking her fingers, pointing to the floor in front of her, you were still confused, Regina laughed at how clueless  you were- she found it so cute. "Get on your knees."

You nodded and quickly rushed to get on your knees in front of her, she spread her legs and took her tracksuits pants off, carelessly throwing them somewhere. You stared up at the breath taking goddess, not wanting to do anything without her permission. She took her panties off and you were surprised by how wet she already was, the scene only made you more wet and you had to rub your thighs to allow some friction in between your legs. "Come on, don't make mommy wait." She said, gripping your hair, shoving you into her pussy.

You liked her clit, making Regina let out a loud moan, she gripped your hair tighter, shoving you further in, you shoved her tongue inside her, she let out another loud moan, gripping your hair up so you can look into your eyes, she stared down into your eyes, smirking at how submissive your eyes looked. You moved your tongue around, making Regina moan louder, she knew she was close, "Fuck baby, I'm gonna come."

You don't stop, you continue to give your girlfriend pleasure, she moans loudly and started grinding on your face, seconds later, she releases all over your face, your still on your knees and Regina is breathing heavily from the pleasure, once she catches her breath, she leans down, holding her finger under your chin to make you look up at her. "You did so good." she pats the couch next to her, telling you to lie down. You do as you told and lie down next to her.

She pulls your pants off, "Wait here." She says in a firm voice, going somewhere, she comes back with a blindfold and something behind her back, she puts the blindfold on your, you can't see anything but the little bit of light that was coming in the room. You heard clicking you were a little confused, a few seconds later you felt more weight added to the couch and a firm grip on your legs.

"I'm going to put your legs over my shoulders." She said, she wasn't asking, she pulled them over your shoulders and you felt the tip of her strap touch your entrance, you moaned slightly, you covered your mouth, she groaned and leaned forward, taking off the hand and your blindfold, staring into your eyes, you stared down and saw how big the strap was. "Regina.. It's to big."

Regina just laughs, kissing your lips, "I'll make it fit," She says, sitting back up, "And it's mommy." She corrects, she a lines the tip up with your entrance and with one forceful thrust she shoves it in, hitting your g-spot right away, you moaned loudly, she kept on thrusting inside you, kissing your lips to block out your loud moans, the room filled with kisses and wet sounds, you gasp at how good she makes you feel, "M-mommy. I'm gonna cum."

She hums in satisfaction, "Cum baby, Cum on my cock." She whispers in your ear, sucking on the area around it. You finally release, all over the strap, she pulls it out and takes it off, laying down next to you, pulling you in for a hug, she played with your hair and calmed you down from your heavy breathing.

"Baby, do you want to take a bath." Regina asks, kissing Your forehead. You nodded your head and she picked you up, taking care of you.

When you feel asleep she got out of bed and thought of the perfect plan on how to get Janis and Damien back.

[randomshyperson]

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap.  | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful.  In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner. 

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure." 

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?" 

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection." 

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you. 

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first. 

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel. 

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around. 

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization. 

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me." 

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up." 

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you." 

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart." 

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose."  You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice." 

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way. 

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment. 

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks. 

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious. 

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority. 

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear." 

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?" 

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces. 

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order: 

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face. 

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath. 

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down. 

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot. 

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck. 

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her. 

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

[jetblack4realz]

better - jj maybank x reader

summary - in between season 3 & 4 when they're building their lives with the gold and jj wants to get his act together for you

word count - 1.9k

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you were an artist. you always had been - whether it was drawing random doodles on the side of your worksheet in class, or sketching out the boys' names in fancy calligraphy, or coming up with a new layout and decorating scheme for the chateau when you deemed it bland (after john b refused to let you paint all over the twinkie), or even reworking furniture to flip and sell to make a few bucks, you were always artsy. it had begun to work out really well for them.

you designed the surf shop and all of poguelandia with the help of your uncle, who was a contractor by trade. you carefully curated the indoor and outdoor decor, picking out pieces unique to your friends and your story and making it a homely, pseudo-trendy little shop. only when that was finished and you had it running did you turn your attention to your guys' home.

jj loved watching you work. at the moment, you had sarah helping you finish up the paint for the main living room as you put a final coat of white on the shiplap accent wall you'd had jj install for you. you had him put a similar one in your shared room upstairs, but had yet to paint it, claiming that you'd rather have everyone's space finished before focusing on your own.

john b walked in the kitchen and spotted the boy seated at the bar, his fingers typing away at the laptop you had gotten from your parents when you were sixteen - you know, before you'd jumped ship and left home to find treasure with your friends. he grabbed a can of lemonade from the fridge as he furrowed his brows, coming up behind his best friend. he squinted his eyes at the screen.

"job listings? what are you-?"

the lid slammed shut on the computer, jj spinning around with a shake of his head.

"it's nothing, bro, okay? don't worry about it."

john b stared at him incredulously. "j you have a job here. we literally own a business now, what are you-?"

"outside," jj said shortly, standing and walking out the back door quickly, john b following after. you looked up from your spot in the living room, glancing back at sarah with a shrug once the boys slipped outside.

once they stood face to face again, john b gestured for him to go on. "so?"

"look," jj said with a sigh. "i know we've got this shop, and it's so great. but, i just keep feeling like it's all too good to be true. like, we have this money now, but it's all gonna be gone in a second."

"it will be if you're the one in charge of it," john b said offhandedly. jj sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"and i know that too, alright? which is why i need more," he answered.

"why? what's going on that you need more money - and money that's separate from us?" john b asked, staring the boy down in pure curiosity. jj's eyes weren't on him though, instead going through the sliding glass door that separated them from their girls right to where you were painting once more, bobbing your head to the rhythm of the music sarah had turned on. "oh."

jj let out another heavy breath. "you and sarah are like, married now, right? and i can hear you guys when you're talking about starting a life together and me and y/n have started talking about it too recently... just, when the time comes i want to be able to provide for us. i want to be able to go out and buy her a ring and a dress and marry her and never have her worried about finances ever again. we've both had to deal with too much of that."

"wow, jayj," john b breathed out, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he rested a hand on his shoulder. "i'm impressed. you're really pulling it together, aren't you?"

"i'm trying," he said with a sigh. "i've worked a lot of jobs before and i'm willing to do it again. anything to make sure she's happy."

"she'll be happy with you no matter how much money you make," john b promised as he smiled at him. "and we'll all always have each other's backs. even if when y'all decide you want to be together forever you don't have all the money you want, we'll help you buy that ring and that dress and get it done."

"thanks, jb," jj breathed out, but with the lack of a smile and the tenseness in his shoulders still, john b knew he wasn't going to be accepting handouts anytime soon. even if it was still shared money between friends and not just handouts.

you'd recruited him to help finish up a few things in your bedroom, managing to finagle a thrifted and refinished dresser up the stairs and below the tv you'd stolen from your old bedroom. jj began hanging curtains as you put both sets of y'all's clothes away, giving yourself one extra drawer for your extra clothes. he finished before you did, watching you with a smile as you tucked his shirts into the top drawer all organized by color, finally shutting it to be done with the task.

"last thing to do is the bed," you hummed as you turned to him with a smile. you moved to begin pulling the white sheets on, jj tucking the corners before you grabbed out the blue comforter with a simple white stripe pattern that alternated thicknesses. "i nabbed this from my grandparents - my nana always buys them when they're on sale for christmas and never does anything with them."

"i know," he said with a light laugh, grabbing the opposite edge from you and helping you pull it over the sides. "she gave one to me for my birthday once. didn't exactly know why."

"because that's what she had and she probably felt bad," you answered, laughing softly with him. you tossed the throw blanket kie had given you for your birthday a few years back onto the corner to add dimension to the look, finally placing the two throw pillows you'd let yourself splurge $30 on at kohl's at the center. you smiled, glancing around the room before looking back at jj. "there. our room is complete."

he sauntered around the bed with a grin, taking you in his arms and leaning in close to your face as he met your eyes. "our own room, with our things, in our house with our friends, on our land, with our business down the road by our boat."

"our boat?" you asked with a teasing smile, hands wrapping around his neck as he held you close to him. "it's mine too?"

"what's mine is yours, princess," he told you, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

"even the dirtbike?" you asked, a brow raised in jest as a teasing smile tugged one corner of your mouth up.

"well, sure. it's yours too, but that doesn't mean you get to ride it, sweet thing," he answered with an amused grin, pressing more kisses to your lips and jaw.

"our next purchase should be a car. or a truck. an old truck. i like old trucks," you told him as his lips trailed to your neck. he paused, bringing his head back up to meet your eyes again, though his grip tightened on you.

"me too," he mumbled. "but, i think there's something we need to buy first."

"what?" you asked, tilting your head curiously. he glanced his focus between your eyes, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

"well, actually... i already bought it," he hummed. you sighed.

"and how much was it?" you asked, raising a brow.

"does it matter?" he asked, raising his brows as his smile grew.

"jay..." you groaned, head falling back in exasperation. "we talked about budgeting-"

"hey, hey, hey, hold on," he said, pulling you closer to him and catching your eyes again. his smile was mischievous as ever as he turned slowly, turning you with him. "you don't even know what it is yet."

you sighed, a small smile sneaking its way onto your lips. "alright. what is it?"

"well, my first paycheck just came in from working with your uncle, and i thought i might as well get it now," he said, dragging his words in the suspense as you continued to eye him. he looked you up and down, his smile still wide as he winked. "have i told you how good you look in that dress?"

"every time i've worn it," you laughed. "reckon that's why you bought it for me."

"damn right," he said, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. you giggled against him before pushing him back, raising your brows.

"what is it?" you asked, almost eager now. "what'd you buy?"

surprisingly, he released you, stepping back as he shoved a hand in his pocket. his smile was wide, but his eyes softened as he brought his hand out in front of him. he breathed out his next words nervously; "i really hope you like it."

and then he was on his knee, and in his fingers was a dainty, gold ring with a small circle diamond on top. right there, in the room you'd just finished, the room you shared, in the house you and your friends rebuilt, with the shop you owned just down the beach - he was proposing.

"i really want to marry you," he breathed out with a nervous laugh, his fingers squeezing the ring tightly. "you're the love of my life, y/n. i really don't know what i'd do without you. being with you has been the easiest and best damn thing i've ever done and i want to be with you for as long as you'll let me. so, will you please marry me? i promise to provide for you and be there for you and-"

"yes," you said, beaming as you took his face in your hands. you laughed lightly. "absolutely yes, jayj."

he kissed you quickly, standing and wrapping his arms around your waist as he leaned into you. when he pulled back, he was laughing, causing you to let out a few giggles, wiping away a small tear at the corner of his eye. he kissed you shortly before bringing the ring to you, slipping it on the proper finger with a certain look of pride in his eye.

"it's uh, it's not much, it's not even a real diamond but i-"

"i love it," you cut him off, holding his hand as you glanced between him and the ring, beaming. "i love it, jayj. thank you."

he smiled, a breath of relief slipping past his lips as he gathered you in his arms again, spinning you quickly. he pulled back and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips again before stepping back away from you. he let out an excited whoop, grinning at you. he grabbed your hand and pulled the door open, dragging you with him down the stairs.

"she said yes!"

[pricegouge]

Get Her a Dog (She'll be Happier For It)

Part Five | master list | taglist | MDNI

Soap x reader, Price x reader, eventual PriceSoap x reader

series cw: cheating. dubcon. angst. cuckholding. pet play.

chapter cw: angst, cheating, dubcon, breeding kink. john gets slapped

reader is fem and fat

He comes home with a puppy some weeks later, timed perfectly to coincide with your house finally starting to look like a home; no boxes left to be chewed up, as if he were really trying to be considerate. A puppy was not discussed but you're helpless against its charms, infatuated from the moment it first teethes on your fingers. You name him Gilbert because it makes Johnny laugh the hardest, though it gets shortened to Gil within the hour. 

You've heard that one of the biggest tests a couple could go through was a move, but clearly that statistic was measured among couples who tackled these issues together , as the move goes through surprisingly easy, even despite the stress of handling most of it yourself. Not to say Johnny doesn't help where he can, touring houses with you and signing paperwork without a fuss. It's just hard to wrangle him when he's suddenly needed much more often around base so you shoulder the brunt of the work and clap excitedly each time he praises you for a job well done when you make progress, traversing the unknown terrain of legalese and open houses with no aid besides an (admittedly very helpful) realtor. Johnny calls it your solo mission, makes it into a bit of a game for you. It's sweet, fun. Everything you've been missing about his company, and despite all the apprehension the ambitious project had instilled in you, you end up feeling closer to your husband than you have in years. It's nice to feel like a team, and you wonder if maybe this is the exact reason he spends so much time with his own. Hard to be mad at him when you think of it like that.

He's with you when you attend your final open house, broad shouldered and strong in the oversized kitchen; the only man among those assembled who can fill it out, make it seem homey instead of austere. You make out like teenagers in the master bath when you both decide this is it, the one . Johnny lifts you onto the counter with a heavy grunt as you whisper against his lips about putting a baby in you, fueling him on as he rips his belt off and rucks up your skirt. He only shushes you when your begging gets too loud, afraid of being caught, though it's almost rendered meaningless with the way you whine when he pulls out, painting your belly. Johnny tells you you should wait until after the move to avoid stress on the baby and you can't deny he's right so you put on a happy face for the rest of the tour, keep it in place through the whole hair pulling process of finalizing the sale. It's not hard to fake, pleased as you are with Johnny's initiative to move, and it's still in place on moving day when the two of you collapse, exhausted but relieved, onto the mattress that still sits on the floor of your new bedroom. 

It finally breaks that first night, when Johnny's got you on your back, heavy weight bearing down on you where he leans against the backs of your thighs, pinning you in place underneath himself. He's worked himself into a sweat, breath coming in heavy huffs which spill hot as a bellows across your cheek. You're useless but to clutch at his thick shoulders, moan your encouragement. He answers in deep grunts, synchronized with the slap of his full balls against your ass. You don't beg him this time, don't think you need to with the way his eyes are locked on the sight of your cunt clenching around him, trying to keep him buried deep. 

You know something is wrong when he pulls out to jerk himself off over your tits, but he's so sweet afterwards that you let it slide, allow yourself to be lost in the warmth of his embrace, at least for the night. You weren't ovulating, anyway.

He comes home with a puppy some weeks later, timed perfectly to coincide with your house finally starting to look like a home; no boxes left to be chewed up, as if he were really trying to be considerate. A puppy was not discussed but you're helpless against its charms, infatuated from the moment it first teethes on your fingers. You name him Gilbert because it makes Johnny laugh the hardest, though it gets shortened to Gil within the hour. 

Gil is a handful, the best kind of trial run - one you're not sure you can give your husband the credit for considering you're not entirely certain he had the foresight necessary to assign you a trial, though one you're committed to rise to regardless. The dog's a quick study, breezing through potty training within two weeks, though the chewing takes a little longer to break. He trains you just as much as you do him, molding you into the perfect dog owner in record time. You coordinate vet visits with practiced ease, spend an inordinate amount of time reading dog psychology books (seriously, you never realized how developed the field was), and walk him religiously - a practiced balance between just enough for exercise and not enough to hurt his fragile little joints, meticulously calculated based on vet feedback. Johnny becomes enamored with him just as quickly as you, though he's not quite as strict about adhering to the rulebooks as you. (Another perfect insight gained into your upcoming trials as new parents. You were learning so much already.) There are some days you don't know who has more puppy energy, Johnny or the dog, Gil often collapsing into a small, fluffy heap long before Johnny would clamber to his feet, complaining about his bad knee. When you tell him he could be helping burn off Gil's energy by training him to play fetch properly, he interrupts before you can prattle on about what your books say about the benefits of fetch by reminding you that wrestling is how puppies play with each other, so that's what he will be doing.

"Besides," he affirms, scooting Gil's supine form along the kitchen tile with a heavy hand planted on the pup's bloated, exposed belly as the beast gave half-hearted nips to his owner's thick fingers, "it's good. Teaches him how tae handle rough pats and stuff, jes' in case."

"Like, in case an overeager baby pokes him too hard?"

You tell yourself you're imagining the way his shoulders tense, thick delts creeping up toward his ears. "Aye, exactly."

***

The idea for the housewarming party comes up after Gil's first obedience class, when the trainer comes around your car at the end of class to ask how you've liked it and Gil barks his head off at her from the backseat. You're shocked, having never seen him behave this way but the instructor just smiles, unconcerned.

"Do you have many guests around the house, Mrs. MacTavish?"

It takes you by surprise, realizing that you haven't really, not since the move. Behind it comes an odd sense of pride in your husband, ashamed you hadn't realized before that moment how far he's come from needing to be with the boys nearly every night. "No, not often lately."

"I see. This is pretty normal behavior for a puppy. Just a little territorial. It should be an easy fix with proper socializing, given how smart Gil here is. I'd start with having some guests over and make sure you calm that -," she motions to Gil's anxious whining from the other side of the glass illustratively, "- reaction before allowing your guests inside. I don't sense much aggression in his behavior, probably all bark and no bite," she laughs, "but do you think you'll need help?"

Ego flares hot for a second, undeserved and unaccounted for. You'd blame the strange way you've equated raising this dog with proving you're ready for a baby if you stopped to think about it for more than three seconds but you don't, too busy biting out a positive response.

Johnny takes to the housewarming party idea enthusiastically, probably happy to have this strange self-inflicted embargo on visitors lifted. You treat it all very officially, happy for the distraction amid dog walks and dog parks and dog grooming and -.

It starts with handwritten letters instead of texts, though you can't admit to yourself why until you're thumbing through your contacts list for P.O. boxes and your thumb hovers over John's name too long, the urge to call him hard to combat. You don't need the back and forth, the memory of how you'd almost kissed him still far too fresh despite how you've tried to bury it deep. You leave his invitation short and impersonal, even managing to make yourself laugh when you picture yourself spraying it with your favorite perfume like some lovesick teenager. But the invite is sealed unsprayed, and it's shuffled off into the post just as unceremoniously as the rest of them, and when John texts you days later to confirm he will be there, you note it just as mildly as the rest as well, and you lay yourself down that night with some sense of pride. 

Even if you're ovulating now and your husband definitely shouldn't be letting you drift off to sleep with any dignity.

***

Years of hosting the boys for dinner should have prepared you for an evening such as this, but friendly gatherings around the tiny kitchenette of the old apartment were one thing, and the first proper dinner of your forever home was another beast entirely. It didn't help that in all your excitement of fancy proper invites you'd managed to invite Kate and her wife, though the severe woman had shown up stag and you can only imagine that meant she'd been in town on business, a fact that lends itself to the intensity with which she stands in your kitchen now, probably thinking to be congenial but only serving to make your hands shake as you pull a bread bowl from the oven under her watchful eye. You can hear Johnny greeting yet more guests in the other room, his loud boisterousness infectious enough to have the newcomers laughing with him before they'd even properly stepped through the door. You keep an ear out, asking Kate if she'd like to go say hi to the new guests when you detect the light lilt of Kyle's latest fling because you were determined to pawn her off on someone before she watched you - disinterestedly, scathingly - ruin the whole dinner because you were not made out for the cooking reality show lifestyle and you couldn't handle the pressure of her very presence.

"He'll come to me," she says mildly, sipping on her wine so elegantly it didn't even stain her teeth and you curse when she proves herself right, Kyle filtering in mere moments later as if paying respects to a mob boss. His easy charm loosens Kate incrementally, but you attach yourself to his date, Maddy, regardless, throwing yourself into her company for as long as she offers it, your little gaggle growing when your cousin joins some minutes later.

Gil trots around happily, the mild concern you'd had about his approachability dead and buried after the first guest's arrival had prompted only a singular bark before being reprimanded with a water bottle, rewarded for being calm on the second greeting with trainer treats. He'd been nothing more than a vibrating bundle of excitement ever since, wagging his tail with each new guest and chewing on the end of your aunt's ugly scarf only once. You coo at him about being a good boy whenever he deigns to approach you, but for the most part he's just happy enough to mingle, weathering clumsy pets with a dignity better suited to a much older dog. Johnny catches the impressed way you watch him at one point, nodding smugly as if he alone could take credit for the dog's behavior. The peck you press to the corner of his lips after draws hoots from his teammates when he can't let you go without a proper kiss.

John comes uncharacteristically late, though you're aware of his arrival from the moment Johnny answers the door for him like a neighboring planet with which you are locked. Orbital resonance, affecting each other before you even lay eyes on him. From the kitchen, you pretend not to listen as he greets his boys each in kind and you wonder how quickly he notices your absence, if he's calculating the appropriate time necessary to wait to come through and greet you with just as much care as you. For all the restraint you'd shown while sending his invite, now that you can hear the rough scratch of his voice in your home again, you suddenly remember it wasn't always near-misses, and you want your friend back. Want him to scoot Maddy and your cousin off to the side so he can help you put the finishing touches on the meal, or maybe distract Kate who is still having a hard time mingling with the other women .

He does neither, instead distracts himself with Gil for as long as the dog lets him, commenting to Johnny about he wasn't aware the two of you had adopted. 

You nearly slice through your own finger when you hear Johnny's answering laughter over the sound of cutting chives, the way he says it was at John's own behest.

It irks you, more than it ought to. You'd joked to yourself from the beginning that you didn't believe Johnny had an idea like that in him but still, Gil has been the highlight of your days ever since Johnny had brought him home and you didn't much relish attributing the idea to John at this point, especially not after…

'John's own behest.' Where did he get off anyway?

You move through dinner with a practiced detachment - though, one you've never had to use on most of the assembled before. When he does finally come to greet you, John is put off by your careful reservedness, though he seems to be the only one to notice it, blessedly. Johnny sets the jovial tone for the night with ease, the assembled crew following after his general cheer easily. You even see Simon loosening up a bit, playing with Gil when he thinks no one is watching him. Determined to have a good time with your friends and family, you allow yourself to be carried along as well, settling in between Johnny and Kyle at the table when dinner is finally served. It's nothing terribly formal, an overflow of guests having taken up residence on the couch in the adjoining living room. When you look around you see plenty of people already eating, the din of laughter having abated a few decibels seeming to confirm that at least everyone seems to like the food enough to keep them from chattering too much, a point Johnny seconds when he doesn't sit immediately, instead deciding that was the moment to thank everyone for attending. 

"Okay, sorry, this'll only take a sec, but ah jes' want tae thank everyone for coming tonight. Ah ken it's a wee bit of a trek outside the city now, afterall." Johnny pauses to allow the small crescendo of polite laughter. He seems slightly embarrassed, the apples of his cheeks ruddying under so much attention, but he did it to himself and you're not about to share the spotlight so you let him flounder, ever the better under such circumstances out of the two of you. "Honestly, though, everyone here tonight is very important tae us and I ken I speak for both me and the missus when ah say we love each'a ye's and thank ye fer always bein' there fer us." He plows over the small collection of coos from your family evidently unable to weather the storm. "An' a special thanks tae ye, cap. Wit'ou' ye talkin' some sense intae me, there never would'a even been a new house tae warm!" He holds out his glass as if to give a toast. You see a handful of people follow suit, but Johnny only has eyes for his captain, watching expectantly as the older man struggles to bite back the grimace the sergeant's words brought on. After a slight pause, John raises his tumbler stiffly and Johnny grins, seating himself with a small, pleased smile. 

John avoids your eyes, long enough that the moment stretches while everyone waits to see if you'll take up the reins, or if Johnny will follow through on the toast he'd started. Distracted, you tuck your hands into Johnny's arm as if to portray the doting wife, but you remain seated, as if confused. Your voice is thin and brittle when you tell everyone to please dig in. The tension swells and ebbs, a tide brought in by a collective shrugging on shoulders, let out with a handful of awkward chuckles. Johnny seems oblivious, tucking into the spread with a borderline indecently appreciative moan. His hand finds your leg under the table, squeezes to gain your attention so he can compliment the chef. You feel vapid and airy when you tell him it was nothing really, as if you've become untethered from the scene around you. There's something you're missing, or rather something you haven't missed at all but which you refuse to look directly at. 

Diagonal from where you sit, John refuses to look directly at you.

***

Without the distraction of wrapping up the meal, you're actually expected to host. A terrible development considering you're two Scottish expletives away from filing for divorce. Irritation eats at you, has you peeling absently at hangnails with too much abandon. After your second trip to the bathroom to staunch some mild blood flow and contemplate your financial standing without Johnny, you emerge to find John waiting for you in the hall, his face stern and grim, yet dire. The same expression you'd nearly kissed off of him. 

You pass by him without a word when he goes to reach for your elbow. 

The worst part is that none of it is even John's fault. You don't know the circumstances under which he told your husband to get his head out of his ass, but he's not to blame for the fact that it was necessary in the first place. Effect, cause. There's a whole song about it. But you don't want to be mad at Johnny for once, not after how well the two of you had been doing. Finding out Gil had been John's idea was bad enough, but that wasn't an issue in the same way knowing your husband would have been content to live the rest of your days - raise a kid - in some cramped York flat was. All the ways Johnny had changed, all the maturity he'd shown. All the reasons you'd been feeling so much more positively about your marriage as of late. 

All because of John.

You're becoming less adept at hiding your frustration as the night drags on. Kate is among the first to leave but she lingers in the door, eyes hard and scrutinizing as you ramble farewells, for once too unconcerned about putting on a good face for her. It's not your smartest decision, as Kate - who has likely known something was wrong since the moment she stepped through the door - chooses then to show her hand, parting with a cryptic, 'He's no better,' before making her exit properly and the thing is, is that you know that, but without lense of Johnny's would-be recent growth to obscure them, all you can focus on are all his massive shortcomings the last few months. 

He'd called buying your forever home together your solo mission, for Christ's sake. And you'd thought it was cute.

By the time the party has dwindled to the small collection of regulars, Johnny's mates, you've had just about enough of playing your role, wandering off to the kitchen without so much as an excusal. There's a version of tonight that ends with you making too much noise while cleaning up, a passive aggression that would draw the attention of the other team members who'd then filter out the same way Kate did earlier, with small, meaningless words of advice that will also go unheeded. It's hard to decide what you do want when the list of things you don't seems to go on forever, but a fight with Johnny when you're so very wound up is not a good idea and even you can recognize it in the moment. 

Though there's another option, left of center.

Where before your dance with John was oppositional, it was too graceful, coordinated to be adversarial - more polar, fixed and measurable. Whatever it becomes as the night drags on is too pointed, an aggression gauged by the lack of it. John yields when you linger, follows when you need space. Peripheral presence, stalking.

So you let yourself be herded into the laundry room and you hiss and you spit but he doesn't weather it for once, instead using every opening he can find to lay blame at your feet, tell you you should have been more outright with your wants from your husband all along. You demand to know how he can say that when he of all people has known your building frustration with Johnny's disinterest in listening to your desires, and he turns it back on you by suggesting you never should have told him in the first place, should have spent all your energy learning to communicate with the man you'd said your vows to. 

You surprise yourself, how low you're willing to sink. "Oh and I should take your advice on that, should I? Did you learn to listen before or after she left you?"

To his credit, John barely flinches. Or maybe he does, in his own way, such tells trained into unrecognizable ticks. John draws himself up to his full height, lets himself drift half a step closer into your space so his next words seem uncharacteristically menacing. "Your welcome for the house. Your welcome for the dog, " he snarls - sarcastic and cruel. A side of him you've always known existed but which has been carefully kept from you. 

Bait is easy to spot, harder to resist. "Where do you get off, anyway, suggesting we get a dog? Afraid I can't handle a baby? Think I need some sense talked into -?"

"Of course not. I think you'd make an excellent mother. " Though his words are reassuring, his tone still falls over you like a rock slide, threatens to crush you under his frustration. "But it was either a dog or nothing because that man -," his fist clenches hard where it hovers by your ear, pointing over your shoulder in the vague direction of the living room on the other side of the wall, "- was not going to give you a baby. And I know you're lonely, so I -."

Slap.

Through the stinging in your palm, you have a brief moment of satisfaction, noting the way John indeed does flinch as you scowl up at him. "Some substitute."

If you had thought about the way you pictured this route going before setting upon it, you suppose you would have pictured a moment of stunned silence, storming past John's shocked expression, perhaps knocking your shoulder into him just to watch him sway on locked knees. But you hadn't thought it through, because you're impulsive and a fool for thinking you've known John well enough to predict him. But there's that other side of him, that side you've never seen before tonight which can call even your reckless husband to heel, out there in whatever hells they toiled under. It's that part of him who stands before you now.

John is confident where you'd expected confounded, decisive where you'd expected dazed. Your hand doesn't even make it back to your side before he's grabbing you by the wrist with a firm, callused grip and spinning you until your back rests flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your front so he can pin you there, keep a hand planted over your mouth when he leans in to huff harsh breaths over the shell of your ear. "You're a spoiled little brat, you know that? Soap's a good lad, just needs some guidance. But you're so bloody impatient you can't wait for him to grow into it."

Protests fall flat from your tongue, get swallowed up by the firm hand which remains clamped across your jaw. John shuffles forward and you're forced to move with him, your steps clumsy and tangled with his own until he gets you hinged over the dryer, his body still flush against the back of your own. He presses close enough that his knees worm between yours, heavy boots knocking your stockinged feet aside to make room for himself. When his free hand paws across your hip to the apex of your thighs and just grips you there, your breath stutters through his fingers, heavy and humid.

"Got you a house, woman, christ , what more do you want?"

When his grip changes on your jaw, you seethe. "You know what I -."

"Yeah," John's fingers slip through your folds with slick ease when he pushes the gusset of your panties aside, his fat digit testing your cunt with barely any preamble. "I'll get you that, too."

It's rushed, skirt thrown over your hips and a few fingers to make sure you're wet enough. John's not quite as thick as your husband (a relief when you think about what it had taken to accept Johnny's fat cock in that open house quickie), but he seems to feed into you forever, forcing a place for himself so deep within you that you were certain he'd take all of you with him when he left it, all your soft vulnerable bits pulled right along behind him. 

Lucky he doesn't seem to be going any time soon. 

For all his rush to get inside you, John takes his time about bottoming out. Takes even longer after , pressed up flush against you with his fingers circling your clit carefully, just enough to keep you from tipping over that edge of pain. His other hand cups your breast, seems to take its measure with a satisfied huff. You wonder if he's imagining them all full and swollen, and pull a curse from him with the way your cunt flutters at the thought.

"John, we can't -."

"Really shouldn't," he agrees, but his hips have finally started moving, and he leans you further into the dryer, the hard metal biting into the plush flesh of your thighs. Your hands brace against the top of it, send some of Johnny's folded t-shirts tumbling to the floor.

"I mean it."

"'S'what you wanted, sweetheart." His next thrust scrapes along the entirety of your back wall and you can feel the way your cunt grips to keep him close. "Want this pretty pussy bred, yeah? I've got you."

Your voice is too whiny to be taken seriously when you try again, the thin sound of his name too desperate.

John's hand trails down to your belly, holds you there just as reverently as he did your tit. "Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me you want to filled with my fuckin' seed."

It's not worth it to respond at first so you let yourself be carried by the slow tide of his movements, entire body rocked up and back with how deeply he fucks you. Your panting by the time the rigid line of your spine loosens with it, your head lolling back onto his shoulder so he can brush a whiskery kiss against your cheek, trailing up to your mouth. His lips are more chapped than you'd expected, his beard softer. You don't think about what it means that you'd had expectations. He tastes like smoke and burnt tea, heavy and bitter because god forbid he add any sweetener to anything. You want to sit him down at your kitchen island and make him a proper cuppa. You never want to see him in your house again.

"Don't cum inside."

A low grumble builds in his chest, like an avalanche against your back. You can hear the echo of it in his voice when his lips glide against yours, deceptively soft. "No? Don't want my baby, sweetheart?"

"John, I'm married, " you plead, though the ring you actually bothered to wear today feels more like a leash than anything now - a flimsy mark of ownership, easy enough to slip. 

There's no masking the snarl in his voice this time. "Yeah, I'll fix that too."

[yan-randomfandom]

Hiii baby! Can I request Jinx, Cait and if you do Maddie (all separately) w/ a gf who is dose very crafty/homemade makeovers?

Hear me out- why spend money on a cut & color, new piercing, nails ect when your hg can do it for you herself?? (I just grew up poor and had to learn😭😭)

Jinx, Caitlyn, & Maddie with a crafty girlfriend headcanons!!

a/n: omg its so nice that you rose up & learned em😭 such a fun request! this one is written before act 3

I didn't proofread or edit so please feel free to point out anything that's bothering you 😭

also this might be ooc.... im so sorry if it is😔

Let's go and start with ...

🌀

Jinx

Jinx has an established style with her neon painted nails, twin braids, inventions, and everything in her possession. An endearing fashion sense, even if some think it looks ridiculous lmaooo

With Jinx being an artisan and artist herself, you both find being creative a common ground in your relationship!

Makeovers anytime, anywhere. No need to find professionals when you have your girlfriend right here! It's a give and take relationship for sure. I imagine it'd be so fun and full of laughs 😩

Also I think you guys will inspire each other back and forth lolol

Having an art block and you don't like it? Ask the other for help!

And if you're both having art blocks? Well, Jinx will take you out on vastly different spots until you find what you're looking for. It's a great way to bond, and sightseeing is nice (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

When you're exploring new styles, and you aren't doing it on Jinx, she would love to simply watch you work. It has some sort of calming effect on her, especially if you're rambling while doing it.

If she sees something of your art that she likes, she might just copy you in her style! Kind of like how Jinx did that makeup when she was in Vi's apartment or something

Although don't be surprised if you wake up and see your face horrendously painted in the morning 😔

You can't even revenge because she sleeps with one eye open, I fear

☄️

Caitlyn

MAN. I feel like you'd have to beg Caitlyn for even the simplest makeovers. She looks so plain rn (in the style way) or am I just blind 😭

You suppose it makes sense. She looks so perfect and you keep giving compliments. Like, why is she so pretty?? There's just so many possibilities you can do with her appearance!!

But, sadly, she doesn't let you give her makeovers much. Not that she doesn't like your work, she respects it and adores it, but arts isn't exactly her thing.

I think make-up of any kind would probably feel uncomfortable for her. Plus it would be a hassle to remove it, she would say.

What you can do is give her hair a trim. A perfect line, as much as possible. She comes to you when her hair feels longer, or more damaged, than usual. Granted, it can be boring, but you're just glad you're doing something for her.

Another thing is that you can choose outfits for her. You can doll her up anytime as long as you don't take too long picking combinations!

If she has time, she'll probably let you paint her nails. Make sure she doesn't regret it, or else she might never let you again.

She'd buy anything you want, by the way. Money isn't a problem for her. So you technically have unlimited supplies, thank goodness, 'cause sometimes they can be so expensive.

You jokingly tell her that even if you break up, if she ever changes her mind about getting something, she'll come to you. Absolute dibs on Caitlyn!!

🍯

Maddie

I feel like Maddie has never really delved into bodily artworks, since she spent most of her time studying about laws and stuff.

Like,, do we agree on the motion that she cut her hair so she doesn't have to deal with it 😭 Less weight during missions too

So when her amazing girlfriend happens to be passionate about creatives? Oh, boy, she's going to be filled with curiosity.

She'll allow you to do anything you want to her, as long as it isn't permanent. In fact, she's super enthusiastic about it, always trusting the process and seeing the result.

You're so creative that it's impressive!! Even if it isn't your best work, she always finds a way to praise you 😭

She'd love to watch you work as well, but she's not exactly the quiet type 🥲

Expect a whole bunch of questions. "What's that for?" "Why are you putting that?" "Ooh, that technique looks complicated. How—"

One of your quality time is definitely you trying to teach her new things. Let her paint your nails, do your hair, and anything that can make you both happy.

If you make clips or whatnot, you definitely try to overload her fluffy hair with decoration. You try different hairstyles possible with that length of hers.

Sometimes, you catch her playing around with your make-up alone. It almost always ends with you fixing it up for her 😭

you, showing your new haircut (it looks horrible): yoooo isn't this so rizzing

jinx: hell yeah

caitlyn: you are not going out like that. go get your unnecessary amount of hair extensions and choose from there

maddie: hell yeah

[vampiresbloodx]

(a series or more of a au between you and librarian!Wanda. Legal age gap, mentions of smut, soft fluff, pinning, lots of pinning, I usually don't write any specific gender for reader ((same goes with physical appearance, but I will slip up sometimes and I apologise)) though sometimes I might mention their clothes, if it may be a skirt, pants etc. And if it's smut I'll always tag it.)

After older!Librarian!Wanda kisses you for the first time, she can't stop thinking about your lips.

How perfect they feel against hers, how she forgets about everything around her and only just focuses on you. She never really enjoyed the way her ex husband kissed her, it wasn't all that pleasant. He was a bit forced, quick, Wanda wanted more than that, even if you're going to work, a quick kiss can still mean something so much more. She was a romantic. She likes to paint the scenes in her head on an empty canvas of what she really wanted him to do at the time, but he wasn't that type of man. It saddened her.

Maybe he too was too caught up in the traditional ways. So was she. After kissing you though, all of that went away pretty quickly, she thought about you non stop, always having to touch you, whether that was a hand on your arm, shoulder, etc, pulling you close to her, she was always a touchy person, once you get to really know her.

She was obsessed with how your touch made her feel, the tingles she got, the sensation of merely just a brushing of the fingers when she passed you something, a book, a cup of tea or coffee, whatever it may be, set her heart off. She surely thought she was going to have a heart attack.

No man could ever make her feel the way you do.

It was truly something magical.

When you'd touch her back, giving her the same attention, knowing she'd want it but would be a bit shy at first to ask you, but it seems you'd know what she wants. It's like this non spoken communication between you two. It was special. She's never had that. Where someone just gets her, you haven't even known her for that long, but it felt like you both had known each other for years.

She understands what people meant by those special connections.

And she doesn't take any of it for granted.

Older!Librarian!Wanda is so precious and caring, loving towards you. She likes to bring you things she finds interesting that you might like, if that was a book or something else, she takes your interests very seriously too, even if she doesn't quite understand them as she grew up very differently. But she loves how excited you get whenever she asks you about it, it makes her happy, she also learns something new she didn't know. Which she likes. She does like to joke around with you, have that little banter as they like to call it, you've even taught her some newer things that may be trendy or help her understand it more. It's nice. Because she'll do the same for you.

After she learns what fidget toys are and whatever helps distract you, keeps you focused, whatever it may be you'll have plenty of it. If you forget a specific fidget toy while you're both out, Wanda has the exact same one in her bag, anything you need she has it. Since she knows you get stressed a lot, especially when there's a lot of people, it can get a bit too much, she gets it sometimes, how overwhelming it is, people being in your face and in your personal space, but when you feel her hand squeeze yours, you feel much more relaxed knowing she's there by your side.

[aviiarie]

♡ — GENSHIN GIRLS AS CHAPPELL ROAN SONGS !

cws & notes. no warnings. various genshin girls x fem!reader. 750+ words. they're all sapphic in my heart. if you like this you might enjoy my good luck babe! inspired furina fic :D

— FURINA · good luck babe!

she can't call it love. the word is on the edge of her lips, lingering on her tongue, but she never speaks it out loud. she just wants to keep things the way they are, keep you close to her without that word hanging over her head. it's nothing serious, so why bother to call it anything at all? she'll ignore the way her heart flutters and her head spins as long as it takes to keep you by her side.

but it isn't enough, is it? because you leave anyway, and she is left with the shadow of your figure chasing the corners of her memory for the rest of her life. in the years to come, she will forget your favourite colour and the way your lips tasted, but she'll always be haunted by the echo of your voice sounding in her head: 'i told you so.'

— CHIORI · red wine supernova

falling in love with you is like falling into a supernova. she was never too interested in pursuing love on her own, but with you, she just seemed to fall into it so easily. it was like you were a star, burning brighter and hotter than the sun, filling her days and nights with light. when she kisses you, she can almost feel fire spark against her lips, like your touch is enough to ignite. it's almost overwhelming, the amount of emotions that brew so quickly, but that doesn't chase away the thrill.

there's something that's so bright about you it's almost blinding. your smile sends her heart beating a mile a minute, your words make her brain fry. no one else has ever made her feel so much that it almost scares her. but if this was love then she would gladly let herself fall for you.

— NAVIA · casual

hearing you call it 'casual' kills her. she smiles and laughs it off, like it's all light-hearted, pretending you're just teasing. it's easy to pretend, to close her eyes and picture the two of you moving into the same apartment, dancing in the kitchen like a couple in a cheesy romcom. it hurts, every time you remind her not to get attached. can't you see she already has, already is? can't you see the adoration in her eyes? can't you see how much she is in love with you? nothing about you is casual, but she bit her tongue until it bled and held back her tears.

she's sick of it. after all the nights of tears she shed, after everything you've been through together, if you won't call it what it was, then she would. she doesn't care what your friends say, anything is better than calling it casual. she's done with letting herself be stifled, letting her love be wasted. she's sick of hating herself. call it casual all you want, she knows the truth and she'll make sure everyone else does too.

— YELAN · super graphic ultra modern girl

she can't deal with another cheap date with a man who doesn't care about her. what she needs someone refreshing, someone fun. she needs a girl who is as dazzling and exciting as she is, someone who can keep her on her feet and send her heart racing. no more wasting perfectly good friday nights on guys who didn't have a single interesting bone in their body, she's after something new.

and that's you. you, who arrived in her life like a firework and continued to crackle and spark ever since. she's transfixed by you, the way you move, the way you speak, the way you laugh. every part of you is mesmerizing, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away.

— KOKOMI · kaleidoscope

it's impossible to describe what you meant to her. there weren't enough words in the dictionary to explain how she felt, not enough colours in the rainbow to paint every shade of love that filtered through her vision when she looked at you. and yet now she was left with a painful monochrome, missing the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.

she's not going to make you stay. she cares about you too much for that. and she'll never fault you is you end up falling in love with someone who isn't her, but part of her does break every time she thinks of it. she doesn't know how love works, it's a mystery to the both of you. but she knows she loves you, and that has to count for something.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai