#so why would you expect different from us

[littleapplle]

bad dog!

mating season's part two. not necessary but read it for more context. nsfw. 4.1k w.

cw.: hybrid!caleb, fem!reader, masturbation, dry humping, caleb is pathetic and anxious asf, a lot of spit, handjob, cunnilingus (sigh...), p in v, big d caleb, knotting, breeding kink, pregnancy kink (sorryy..), caleb is PATHETIC (again), biting and lwk marking kink, doggy style, mating press, squirting.

note: ah!! its finally out! to everyone who liked and asked for a part two of mating season, im sorry! i took so long to start and finish this. i hope i can keep up with the expectations and that this is just as enjoyable as part one.

“bad dog!”

Is what caleb's got most used to hearing in the past few days.

“caleb, do you know where my white bra is- hey, what are you hiding in there? bad dog!”

“caleb! stop going through the dirty laundry basket! bad dog!”

“caleb, why are there holes in my black panties? oh my god did you chew them again?- ugh! bad dog!”

the first few times, he'd whine in guilt and shame, give you his best puppy eyes and maybe, just maybe, get away with it. but now? you're afraid he's getting bolder, that your punishments – denying him his weekly spoon of peanut butter and his blueberry bites – aren't being enough to keep him on his tracks. 

and what's the solution for a puppy with bad manners? a trainer, of course! you've searched everywhere online for a hybrid trainer close to your apartment and nothing was worth wasting time on. most of them were men, which you knew wouldn't end well.

puppy!caleb is friendly, a sweetheart around you. he lies on his back and whines for belly rubs and when you scratch a particular spot on his side, his leg twitches a little. your sweet pup is lovely but you know him well enough to know it's better to avoid interactions with other men.

it's not personal! he isn't scared of them or anything. he just doesn't like them around you:( so why would you bring a stranger to your shared apartment to not only try and order him around but also infect the air, which usually smells like you, with their yucky scent? that's a nono!! caleb is a good pup but his teeth are still huge and sharp!!!

with no other options left, you return to scolding caleb almost daily for his misbehavior.  sure, you’re letting him get away with it sometimes and maybe you're too soft on him but you're trying!

his behavior worsens with time. it's been a little more than a  week since the incident you'd rather not mention. caleb barks when you get home, showing his teeth to the world once his nose sniffs a different scent in your clothes. caleb growls and both of you play tug of war with your clothes every morning. caleb hides stuff around the apartment and you're running out of undies.

he's clingy. you love him but he's constantly clinging to you, sniffing every inch of your skin when he thinks you're not looking. When you sit down on the couch to work, laptop resting on top of your thighs, he lies down on the floor, waiting for you to invite him to sit beside you and take a nap while you write reports, and when you don't? his sharp teeth nip at the ticklish skin of your foot. bad dog!

to his dismay, you still have a job and need to go out by the morning and spend the whole day out. the baby teethers you bought for him aren’t helping to keep his teeth and mind busy anymore and caleb is starting to destroy the shit out of your apartment. you’ve found bite marks everywhere this past week. your mascara? bitten. the corner of your bedside table? destroyed. the cute and pink silicone spatula in your kitchen? disintegrated.

ok, sure, it’s kind of your fault for not educating him properly but how could you? poor boy gets anxious when you’re not around and his gums are itchy! he’s innocent! 

so, to help with said problem, you bought him a friend! a fluffy, cute, white bunny plushie with the cutest light pink heart for a nose. but that alone was too tedious for your bored pup! to prevent him from absolutely destroying the plushie, you spray some of your perfume in its fluffy body. the cologne he whines and buries his face in your neck when you wear, the one that made you put a lock on the cabinet under your bathroom sink because he kept spraying it in the air when you weren’t home.

great idea! he loves it. a bit too much maybe, but it’s a win. 

“i’m leaving, caleb! leftovers are in the fridge. yes, i love you, yes, i have to go, no i can’t call in sick.”

you announce loudly from the front door before shutting it close, a tactic you quickly learned. you sneak to the front door quietly, tell him that you’re out and boom. door locked. sometimes you can hear him whine and paw at the knob and it breaks your heart but your boss will chop your head off if you arrive late one more time this month. you try to make your goodbye as painless as possible for him, like removing a bandaid with a single, quick pull so he doesn’t have the time to process the sting.

the clock hits 11:00, it’s been an hour since you left. caleb is miserably sprawled on the couch, he tries to focus his eyes on the show playing on the tv but his purple orbs stare at the clock more times than he can count.

it’s 18:00 by the time he gets frustrated and decides he’ll take a nap in your bed. everything on the tv is too boring if you’re not there to watch it with him, he doesn’t want to eat if you’re not there to treat him with dessert- oh, he misses you dearly.

opening the door of your room, he sighs like a wife that has been waiting six months for her husband, who left to save their country, to answer her last letter, whining dramatically at the hopeful thought you’d magically come home earlier. the mattress sinks down with his weight, curling under your weighted blanket like a puppy.

and that’s when he sees it.

his new little friend, with a light orange bow tied around its neck, sitting beside his head on the pillows. you’ve definitely sprayed your perfume on it this morning, the scent is still too fresh, he notes. 

he yanks it closer quickly, big hand and fingers gripping the fabric with force as he buries it in his face. comfort immediately runs through his veins, filling his bored brain with a sense of calmness. his fluffy ears twitch, glueing to the sides of his head pitifully and there’s a barely visible tail wagging slowly under the thick blanket.

caleb takes a whiff, a second one, a third one, and his eyes start to water. this is inhumane! he cherishes your gift dearly but now the scent just makes him miss you even more. rubbing his face closer to the plushie’s tummy, his canine teeth sink on the fabric as gently as he can, trying not to damage the toy you gifted him with so much love.

his little puppy heart shatters. if you were by his side right now, you’d pet his ears, pinch his cheek just enough to make his canines visible and giggle at him and it’d make him feel better! 

his hips buckle against the mattress as he squirms around the bed sadly and a shiver runs up his spine, making the fur on his tail stand up. caleb has been so pent up since he pressed you to the floor and had his way around you, his cock is always sensitive, the scratches you give behind his ear make his lower stomach tighten with arousal and his pupils are always blown.

gross stuff is a nono in your bed but his hands paw at his hardening cock through his boxers anyway. It’s not in his hand he wants to come and the feeling of not having what he wants makes his chest heavy with frustration. With a hiss, his hand leaves his cock, like any touch burns and hurts him more than it helps. 

‘caleb- no. i need you to calm down before i give you the spoon. breathe.’ is what you tell him after lunch, when he gets to have some peanut butter. the situation is different, he feels like a bomb, ticking closer and closer to explosion but he obeys your voice in his head anyway, breathing nervously against the now covered in saliva bunny.

a long breath makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull as his hypersensitive nose catches a glimpse of the intoxicating, sweet smell of your cologne. 

and what happens next is not processed by his pathetic brain. the poor plushie is dragged down the blanket and pressed right to his crotch, its fur sticky with precum that seeped through his boxers. this is what you wanted when you gifted him this thing, huh? a ragdoll for him to fuck when you’re away? well it’s not enough!

his hips rut against the bead filled body with messy thrusts and more whines escape his lips. He can’t come. Not in this, not in his hand, his knot will take too long to go down and he’ll be sensitive, too sensitive. it has to be you. he wants you.

caleb is not there to see the clock tick 18:40, his ears don't help him this time, his nose is buried in your pillow too deeply to catch your slightly sweaty scent in the air and tell that you’re home. 

from the front door, you arch a brow as you kick your shoes off and place them on the shoe hack. the apartment is quiet, too quiet. caleb is like a child, you’ve noticed, if everything is too silent, something is wrong. 

“caleb? where are you, boy? have you eaten anything yet?” you call out, no one answers.

the door of your bedroom is ajar. is he sleeping? cute. you walk carefully to its direction, tiptoeing in hope to not wake him up. and once you peek inside, your smile falters.

“caleb! gross!”

the shriek makes him snap out of his drunk, dumbed down mind and his eyes almost pop out of his skull. his ears, once hidden on both sides of his head, stand on top of it, tense. “you-” he cries and sits up.

you don’t give time to finish his sentence, a frown blooming in your face as you cross your arms close to your chest by the door. 

“seriously caleb?! in my bed? i just changed the sheets this morning, for fuck’s sake-” and listen, he wants to apologize, feel guilty and pout but he can’t. he can hear your breath hitching, he loves when you come home with sweat clinging to your skin, fuck, you smell so good. he wants a taste. this time, he’ll get it.

this time, he begs. he crawls to the edge of your bed, tail wagging behind him mindlessly and the words that leave his mouth are pathetic.

“please- r’lly need your help! feels so hot- please i- i really need you! been waiting for so long, ah, please- i’m a good boy, kept my teeth to myself, promise. oh fuck.” your ears can barely catch up to everything he’s saying, his words are dragged, desperate, needy.

you really want to keep up with the ‘i’m mad at you’ act but you break. his whines go right to your core, arousal pooling on your underwear disgustingly fast. pinching your nose, you sigh, walking to his direction and sitting on the bed.

with the space between you two getting smaller, his tail wags faster, his pupils blown wide, shaky. your hand makes contact with his sweaty cheek and he is quick to lean in, shutting his eyes close and basking into your touch. “what’s wrong, pupp-” — “hot.” you can hear the distress in his voice. “it’s okay, i’m here now, aren’t i?” at the reassurance, you receive a lick in your hand as acknowledgement.

scooting closer, you cradle his face with both hands. there’s a bit of sweat clinging to his bangs , making them stick to his forehead, a bit of saliva is smeared on his lips and his brows are furrowed. “oh, my poor pup.” you coo in pity before pressing a kiss to his wet lips. he whines, kissing— well, licking your lips stupid—, you groan at the mess but doesn’t fight against it, you’ve been mean enough already.

while his clammy hands grip your shirt for a sense of grounding, yours scratch his chest in affection, tracing down to the happy trail that trailed up to his bellybutton. you’d love to take your time with him, let your mind settle, but knowing caleb, he’ll grow frustrated and bark weakly as a way to protest. so, in order to keep him quiet, your wandering hand pulls down his wet underwear, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

your eyes almost pop out their sockets once you peek down. he is big, much bigger than whatever the average is. his tip is an angry shade of red, beads of precum leaking down the shaft. the cool air makes it twitch. 

slowly, awkwardly, your hand wraps itself around it, working up and down. that makes him snap, breaking the kiss and throwing his head back with a loud whine. “‘s that good, pup?” he doesn’t answer, how could he? not when your thumb presses on his tip in a way it makes his thighs shake and his ears twitch with pleasure and he’s trying so hard not to come. 

your other hand leaves his face, going south to cup his balls gently. his jaw tightens. gross. you think with a smile but leans in anyway, kissing his adam’s apple as it bobs with his nervous gulps.

the stimulation is too much for him, making his brain go fuzzy. your lips now working on his shoulder blade, your hand gripping his length tightly, your other hand massaging his balls- “stop! argh- please, ‘m gonna cum! can’t cum. needa be inside you, please.” caleb squeals, both hands holding down your arms with force as his hips buckle in your hands.

so you do, you let go, just staring at him with big eyes as his chest goes up and down quickly and his face flushes with heat. once he settles from his high, caleb’s hands grip the hem of your shirt, taking it off quickly and messing your hair. “ow! caleb-” — “no.”

caleb has always been stronger than you, you lose against him when roughhousing, you give up on trying to save your clothes from his teeth because once something is in his grasp, you’re not getting it back. in a second, you’re under him, face shoved into one of your pillows while your ass, covered in the pretty, black skirt you left to work with is up in the air.

he doesn’t take the skirt off, too irritated to care about something so trivial. he takes a second to sniff your crotch, covered by a cute pair of wet lilac panties, before yanking the fabric down to your bent knees. you squeal against your pillow at the roughness and the quick, hot sniffs on your lips.

last week caleb discovered he loves the way you taste, he’d love to eat you out the whole night, starting now, but he just can’t take this long right now. his warm tongue laps at your arousal, lips wrapping themselves in your folds and sucking gently.

“c-caleb! fuck! good- good boy, keep going, baby.” muffled whines escape your lips and at the praise, caleb’s tail wags faster, tongue working around your clit, teasing it. he sees the way your knees fight to keep your ass up and not buckle weakly, that’s his sign to keep going. 

his free hands grip your ass, spreading it for more easy access. he trails kisses from your clit and up to your slit, continuing going up till he gets to your asshole, placing an open mouthed kiss to the hole. it twitches, your body shivering at the unexpected contact. you hit the pillow you’re currently biting in protest. “gross, caleb!”

it doesn’t take long for your moans to grow louder and your thighs, dripping with sweat, shake violently as he sucks on your clit harshly. “fu-ck! yes! good boy, caleb- mghhh- jus’ like, ah, that!” you moan, creaming on his mouth tiredly.

you curse his stamina, because once you think you’ll finally be able to catch your breath and rest, caleb’s already rutting against your wet folds and slapping his dick on your sensitive bundle of nerves. energetic mutt, you curse. he is not giving you a break.

“caleb.” you warn, trying to make your voice as steady as possible. “gimme a break and then we can conti- aaH! oh my god- fucking mutt!” you scream, cursing him for the pain between your legs as he buries himself inside you in a single thrust. his tip kissing your cervix and walls tightening around his length painfully. 

“s-sorry! o-oh fuck. fuck, y’er so tight- mgh-” 

and ohhhh fuck, he waited so long for this. you look so pretty from this angle, hair tangled and messy, face buried in a pillow, back and thighs sweaty while your knees can barely hold up your weight. he gulps down, trying not to piston his hips inside you just yet. 

he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable before snapping his hips against your ass, the sound of skin against skin disgustingly lewd. his torso bends down to bury his face in your nape, breathing deeply in your hair once he does. “mine. oh- ahh- yes, mineminemine!” caleb whimpers, his eyes rolling back as you clench down around him, making his thrusts messier. 

as a response to pleasure, his fluffy ears twitch and drop to the back of his head once again. his tail doesn’t stop wagging ever, swishing behind him happily. the warmth in his stomach grows at the sound of your moans and screams, your curses only making him hornier.

you’re a meanie, you don’t let him chew on your shirts and get a whiff of your bras, you nag at him and hide the small container with blueberries that’s usually in the fridge when he does something wrong. and usually, he’d whine, eyes getting watery at the thought of you being mad at him, but now? he doesn’t even care! you look so pretty, you feel so good. his ears barely get a glimpse of you cursing all his next generations.

a shiver runs down your spine once he licks the back of your neck, sniffing it contently as his cock abuses your insides. you hate him, you fucking hate this mutt, he is disgusting and he does not obey and his cock drags along your walls so fucking nicely. his mushroom tip pokes your cervix roughly, making you stupidly drool in your sheets while your things dig on the bedding. 

“y’smell so good- y’er so tight- feel so- ngh- good! mine, right? don’t like other men around you! noooongh”  – “w-wait! caleb! aah!” something in his mind upsetted him because the way he thrusts into your cunt is inhumane, caleb’s bigger frame presses you down on the mattress, the hair of his happy trail tickling your lower back as his skin slaps on yours. 

you’re a mess, pussy drooling pathetically and stretched to her limit around him, juices spilling down your thighs and the mattress everytime he fucks his cock inside you. and when you’re sure you’re getting used to him, of fucking course caleb has to start talking again. “need to mark you, everyone need’ta know y’er mine, just mine. that’s my cock you’re clenching around. needa bite you, yeah.” 

and he keeps up with his words, his loving, ticklish licks to the back of your neck turning into a sharp pain. you scream, squirming under him and one of your hands tries to slap whatever bit of his skin you can reach but it’s worthless. once caleb sets his mind into something, you’re definitely not the one that’s able to stop him with physical force. with a hand tightly around your waist and the other keeping your neck in place, his canine teeth sink down on your nape, biting down just enough to make the skin irritated and leave a scar for a few weeks.

and when you feel like you’re getting closer, his hips stop, his cock slips out of you and a strangled whine leaves your wet lips as he manhandles you, flipping you on your back. “you!-” annoying! you’re so annoying! bad dog!, you want to shout. “s-sorry. need to see your face.” he hisses as his eyes wander down at your breasts. “you’re so pretty, ahhh, so pretty. have i ever told you that?- fuck, mine and so pretty- oh-” 

he doesn’t waste any time, his hands help your legs up his shoulders and he slips inside you again. his sunset colored eyes stare at his cock going in and out, in and out, in and out of you and he finally notices the creamy ring around the base of his length and smeared on your lips. it’s pinkish, he notes, probably from being too rough and not stretching you properly. he’ll say sorry later.

“you’re so-” he pants tiredly, “so pretty.” a sweaty hand gropes the fat of your tit, squeezing it under his large palm. “want t’a breed you- need to- fuck! need to get your tits swollen with milk-” caleb leans in once again, this time bending your body like a stick, pressing your legs closer to your chest in the process. his nose takes a whiff of the valley of your boobs before wrapping his lips around your free boob, playing with the other one with his hand. 

your voice fails you once again. it’s not like you have the strength to judge him harshly again anyway. his tongue swipes at your hard nipple, sucking it like he has a point to prove. “and you would mghhh! would look so pretty and round and ah! everyone would know y’er mine, oh god-” 

with a last kiss, as if sealing a promise, he lets go of your nipple with mercy and stands up again, kissing your knee as an apology for bending you like your bones are made of jello. and then it hits him. “o-oh! s’rry forgot you like this.” the hand squeezing your tit snakes down between you two, adding some much needed stimulation to your clit.

you jump, legs thrashing against his shoulders and back at the pleasure. you clench around him once more and this time, it’s his turn to squeal in pleasure. “o-oh fuck. ‘m cumming, g’nna breed you, yeah? fill you up, mhm? yeah? fuck! cummin’!” caleb whines before throwing his head back, his sweaty hair barely moving an inch away from his forehead while doing so, and his once steady thrusts turn languid, messy. 

his cock twitches around you, spilling white, watery ropes in your pussy. bicolor orbs roll to the back of his skull as he feels his knot grow swollen at the base of his cock. even after coming, he keeps pistoning his hips in you, tiredly, but it’s the thought that counts.

at the weird, swollen and hot thing trying to fuck its way inside you, you mewl, eyes going wild as caleb tries stretching you just a little more. 

“caleb-? what the aha! fuck?” — “sorry!” he cries but keeps going anyway, his fingers working faster around your clit to make up for the pain. “jus’ a little more? ple- ase? it feels good, doesn’t it?” back to being stupid and pathetic apparently, because the way he stares at you with puppy dog eyes and begs is disgusting. 

his other hand leaves your thigh to press down on your tummy and it becomes too much. your walls convulse around him and you cry, clit throbbing under his touch pathetically. the hand putting pressure on your bladder makes your eyes roll, your hands grip the sheets to the point of turning white.

“caleb! ah! oh my god- fuck- aha, cumming, i’m gonna cum! pl-please keep going!” 

and you don’t have to ask him twice. he thrusts his cock in you a last time, his knot slipping in easier than he thought it would, thanks to your drooling cunt and his cum and that does it for you. your body goes static, hips bucking against his and back arching against the bed. his fingers don’t stop, rubbing your clit until you’re shaking uncontrollably and your juices spray on his thighs and lower stomach.

“oh-”  — “don- not a word!” you manage to cry out.

“so… how long till it goes down?” you murmur tiredly against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his big frame as he lies on top of you. your legs feel sore, aching from being spread for so long, thanks to his cock still buried in you.

“an hour and a half, probably” caleb shrugs. 

your eyes snap open. “an hour?!” — “and a half.” he barks with a chuckle.

“i hate you! you’re heavy, y’know?! argh, bad dog!” he only manages to laugh at your rage and lick your cheek, covering it in saliva.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[witchslove]

Rivals

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda work together but you can’t stand each other, until one day your boss asks the two of you to fake date for a promotion.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; power bottom!wanda, top!reader, office sex, oral (w receiving), fingering (w receiving), mommy kink, praise kink, slight angst

A/N: I need a mean older Wanda in my life, when is it my turn?

——————————

It was a beautiful day with a slight chill in the air as you walked down the street towards the Stark building. You had left early for work that day to get a coffee on the way there from your favorite shop, a small space on the corner of your block.

Coffee in hand, you strode to work, thinking to yourself that you couldn’t have a bad day after so many things had gone right. You’d woken up to your first alarm, gotten dressed without second guessing your outfit, and even had time to pick up a drink before heading to your office building.

Not that you had many bad days in the first place - Stark Industries was good to you. Work usually went by fast as you kept busy most days, finding peace in your daily tasks.

There was only one thing that threatened to ruin a perfectly good day at work, and that was Wanda Maximoff.

She’d worked with you since you’d started there and she’d hated you from the beginning. You never knew why nor did you question it for too long, finding that the feeling was mutual.

She was competitive and made it her goal every day to be better than you at your job. She would brush past you, ignoring your presence, while greeting your boss and then promptly find some way to one up you, making sure to jab at you subtly in the process. When others weren’t around, she wasn’t much nicer. She made snide remarks, gave backhanded compliments, and treated you more like you were an intern than her equal.

Despite her less than pleasant behavior, you tried not to let her get to you, but it was hard not to fight back sometimes.

It did bother you at times how she seemed to look down on you. You wondered what you ever could have done to make her dislike you so much. If things were different, you thought you might actually like her or want to be her friend, or at the very least her acquaintance. The first time you saw her, you were taken aback - she was admittedly a very gorgeous woman, which was even more frustrating.

Today was going to be a good day though, you told yourself. You had a cup of your favorite coffee, a song you loved playing in your headphones, and a meeting with your boss that day discussing your recent work, which you knew you’d done flawlessly.

Today was going to be a good day. Was.

What you hadn’t anticipated when you entered the Stark building, swiping your keycard to get to the elevator and going up to the 21st floor, was to see your boss at the front desk, waiting for you with the one and only Wanda Maximoff stood beside him.

She wore a maroon blouse with a fitted black skirt, the color of her shirt making her green eyes stand out, and if she was literally anyone else you would’ve complimented her style. That was another thing about her that was infuriating - she always looked good.

Your boss, Mr. Stark, laughed at something Wanda said before he noticed you and waved you over.

“Y/N, you’re prepared for our meeting today, yes?” Mr. Stark greeted, smiling.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding.

“Perfect, I expect nothing less from you,” he started. “Also, Wanda will be joining us today. I have something very important to talk to the two of you about, regarding our deal with the Osborn group.”

You tried not to let your face fall, forcing a smile and glancing at Wanda, who seemed to be pleased that she was crashing your personal meeting with the boss. You’d wanted the one on one time with him as you’d been itching to bring up a possible promotion ever since one of your staff members resigned. Your numbers had been impressive lately and you were sure he would at least consider it.

Now, unfortunately, Wanda would be part of your meeting and knowing her, she’d probably laugh in your face if she found out you were interested in moving up.

“Sounds good,” you responded as normally as you could, feeling slightly nervous for what was to come.

“See you both at 11,” Stark said, making his exit and leaving the two of you standing by the front desk.

There was a bit of an awkward silence before Wanda spoke. “You don’t seem too excited about me being at the meeting later. Do you not like me?” The redhead teased, fake pouting. “Or did you just want some alone time with Stark? I wouldn’t put it past you to whore yourself out to the boss for a promotion.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are like you, Wanda,” you replied, trying to get under her skin, despite not actually believing that she was that kind of person. It even slightly offended you that she thought you might be, especially considering you weren’t into men to begin with. “See you at the meeting.”

You walked past her to your office, setting your things down on the desk and running a hand through your hair. It was going to be a long day.

By the time the meeting came around, you’d finished your coffee and gotten some work done to kickstart your day, trying to keep your mind busy after your encounter with Wanda earlier.

You stopped by the break room for a water on your way to the meeting and arrived to the conference room a few minutes early, taking a seat next to the head of the table where Mr. Stark would sit.

The door to the conference room opened slowly and Wanda walked in, taking the seat across from you with a disapproving look on her face.

“You should really invest in some new clothes if you want to impress Stark. Yours look like they came from Goodwill,” she remarked, making a point to look you up and down where you sat. You ignored the way your body heated up at the action.

“At least I don’t dress like I want the boss to bend me over,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

“Oh, do you think about me bent over a lot?” she asked, smirking.

Now all you could think about was what Wanda might look like in such a position and you hoped she couldn’t tell you were blushing.

Before you could come up with something to say back, Stark walked into the room, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket with one hand, the other carrying a set of documents. You and Wanda both sat up straighter and greeted him simultaneously, almost as if you were competing to see who could say something to the man first.

“Glad you’re both on time, we have a lot to cover today,” Stark announced before taking a seat at the head of the table. “Firstly, Y/N, I know this was supposed to be something of a performance review for you. We can reschedule that for a later date. Today’s topic actually involves both of you, which is why I asked Wanda to sit in.”

You felt your stomach turn at the possibilities of what that meant. Maybe he had a project the two of you would have to work together on, or maybe he had finally caught on to your disdain for each other and you were both in trouble for being unprofessional.

Before you could overthink too much, he spoke again. “As you both know, we’re currently in talks of a merger with the Osborn group. They want to give us a percentage of their company in exchange for a shared client base.”

You and Wanda both nodded in acknowledgment, listening intently.

“However, Osborn is a family business that runs on certain values. Mr. Osborn has agreed to the merger under two conditions, the first one being that the CEO of our company be married, which I am. The second condition is that I hire two people to take on the merging process, which means extra work, but extra pay as well.”

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Now, the two of you are my best employees. I want to bring you both in to help with the merger.”

There it was - you were getting promoted, but you’d have to work alongside Wanda, who was also getting promoted. You tried not to show your mixed emotions, excitement at the prospect of moving up in the company, paired with the stress and slight disgust of having to work with Wanda.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad - maybe you wouldn’t have to work too closely with her.

“Here’s the catch,” Stark said, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Osborn wants a couple to take on the project. I want the two of you to do it, seeing as you’re the best in the company at what you do. It is a promotion, but if you want it, then the two of you have to pretend to be together for appearances.”

Your jaw dropped. You were finally getting the promotion you’d wanted for so long, but there was in fact a catch, a massive one at that. You had to pretend to be dating your work rival - some might even call her your worst enemy - for however long the merger would take.

“What are your thoughts?” Stark asked, looking between the two of you.

Wanda had an unreadable expression on her face. You couldn’t tell if she was pleased with the promotion or absolutely pissed at the thought of fake dating you. The fact that you couldn’t read her when you wanted to was almost as frustrating as the bomb Stark had just dropped on you both.

“I think we can make it work,” she spoke first, putting on a friendly face for show. “Y/N and I are both adults here and we would be silly to turn down such an offer.”

You swallowed, nodding your agreement. “Exactly,” you said, your voice almost cracking. “I’m sure Wanda and I can find some common ground.” As you spoke, you looked her directly in the eyes, as if your stare alone could convey that you could see right through her act and that you were only playing along too for the money.

“Perfect!” Stark’s voice broke through the tension and you looked away from Wanda to give him your full attention. “We’ll need to go over what’s required of you both for the position you’ll be taking. Not just the work aspect, but the relationship aspect as well. Osborn will have his own employees and clients here often and you’ll need to keep up the relationship act at all times.”

Stark opened the folder in front of him to pull out two contracts, one for you and one for Wanda.

“The second you’re here every morning, the two of you are together. I’ll also be paying for you to go on at least two dates a week outside of work. I know this is a place of business, but the more PDA the better. Today is for getting your stories straight, I want both of you to work together for the rest of the work day to come up with a believable foundation for your relationship and get to know each other better. I’ll take care of your individual workloads for the next two days as well, so you can focus on each other and we can get through all the paperwork. I hate to ask you to do all of this, but I trust the two of you can handle it.”

As Stark began to go over some paperwork with you, explaining each page before having you sign, your thoughts were everywhere but on the dotted line. Two dates a week? PDA? You weren’t sure you would survive faking a relationship with Wanda.

You hated to admit it, but the thought of kissing her had crossed your mind before, usually accompanied by enough disgust that you could ignore the butterflies it caused.

Wanda was beautiful - anyone with eyes could see that - and she was absolutely your type, but her personality always squashed any thoughts you might’ve had about wanting her.

Now, it was all too real. You would have to pretend to like her despite the torment she put you through since your first day at the company. You’d have to put aside your rivalry for the sake of your promotion and act like she wasn’t the bane of your existence most days.

You would have to kiss her.

Your mind was stuck on that and you couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was something more, but whatever it was had your head spinning.

Your thoughts raced as you finished the paperwork with Stark and Wanda, who seemed far too calm and collected the entire time.

When the meeting was over and Stark had left, you ignored a snarky comment from Wanda and exited the conference room with haste. You walked back to your office, finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as soon as the door was closed.

The merger would begin in two days and you had no idea how long it would take or how long you’d have to “date” Wanda. Two days of normalcy didn’t feel like enough time to prepare, but you knew what you had to do. You were getting promoted, and Stark trusted you with one of the most important collaborations to ever happen within his company. You decided you would just have to focus on that to get through what was to come. Everything would be okay.

Two days went by fast, faster than you expected, and it was time to put on a show. You and Wanda had used those two days to prepare, coming up with a story of how you got together and learning more about each other to make your relationship more believable.

Of course, Wanda never missed an opportunity to insult you or tease you during those two days and you wondered if she’d be able to hold back when it was time to pretend.

It was easy enough to come up with a story. You met each other at work and fell in love over time. One night of working late turned into a first kiss and a date that would soon follow.

You’d learned a lot about Wanda as well. She lived close to work at an apartment complex similar to yours but slightly more luxurious. She walked to work some days and loved to stop for a croissant on her way when she had time. She had a brother named Pietro, who lived about an hour away. She was born in Sokovia and grew up there with Pietro before moving to the States to pursue better opportunities, which explained why she sometimes sounded like she had an accent.

She found out a lot about you as well and you weren’t sure if that made you uncomfortable for good reasons or bad reasons. It felt both exciting and also nerve-wracking to share parts of your life with someone you spent so much time hating.

You found yourself hating her a little less as you learned more about her. She was a very interesting person and you wondered what it would be like to know her as someone who she didn’t make it her life’s mission to annoy every day. You wondered if she was feeling the same way as she got to know you too.

Whether or not she was, today was the day where you’d both have to put your rivalry aside and pretend to love each other.

You stopped for a coffee on your way to work, knowing you would definitely need one, and walked purposefully to the Stark building. You arrived ten minutes early, hoping you would have some time to sip your coffee and take some deep breaths.

As you swiped your keycard and boarded the elevator, a familiar voice called out.

“Hold it, please!” Wanda said, running up to the elevator with an outstretched hand, heels clicking against the tile.

You put an arm out to keep the door from closing and let her in. “I should’ve let it close,” you said teasingly.

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten sweetheart, but we have to be nice to each other now. Think you can handle that?” she responded somewhat condescendingly.

“I can handle it, can you?” you asked, looking over at her as you spoke.

“You underestimate me, detka.” That was new, she’d never called you that nor had you ever heard the word before, but it sounded lovely the way she said it.

Neither of you spoke again as the elevator finished its journey up. The doors opened and the two of you stepped out into the office area where Mr. Stark was waiting for you, accompanied by a man you’d only ever seen in pictures.

Wanda moved closer to you, placing a hand on your lower back as you approached and you were glad she didn’t notice your slight shiver at the touch.

“Good morning ladies,” Stark greeted. “As you probably already know, this is Mr. Osborn.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, shaking Osborn’s hand.

Wanda did the same after you, only removing her hand from your back to shake Osborn’s properly.

“Y/N and Wanda here are going to be taking on the merger, the paperwork is already done and they’ve been briefed on what’s expected of them,” Stark announced, gesturing to the two of you standing there closely.

“Ah, so you’re the lovely couple I’ve heard so much about.” Osborn smiled warmly as he spoke.

“Yes, and we’re so excited to work with you,” Wanda replied, subtly taking your hand in hers and interlacing your fingers.

You knew it was all for show, but it felt weirdly nice to hold her hand and you internally cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. But you couldn’t help it when her hand was so warm and soft and her thumb stroked the back of your hand idly as she conversed with your boss and his business partner.

After a few minutes of talking, Stark excused himself to take a business call and Osborn turned fully towards you and Wanda.

“Thank you for taking on such a big role in the company,” he started. “I look forward to seeing more of the both of you.”

“We can say the same, sir,” you said sweetly, leaning into Wanda a bit to help the act.

He smiled again and with that, he stepped away, walking off towards one of the offices he would be using during his time there.

You knew he had other employees around the office so you couldn’t drop the act for even a second, whether Osborn himself was looking or not, so you fought the urge to pull away.

“Nice touch leaning into me,” Wanda mumbled, so that only you could hear.

“Was that… a compliment?” You asked quietly, unable to resist the urge to tease her.

“I would say don’t get used to it, but neither of us have a choice anymore.” Wanda turned towards you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you later.”

She pulled away to go to her office and start her day and you did the same, knowing you needed some time to yourself after your first little performance with Wanda. You almost thought it was going to be a long day, but then you remembered this was going to be your every day for a while.

The charade continued as the day went on and you worked more closely with Wanda on the merger, going over paperwork and calling clients together. Osborn’s employees would come in and out of the conference room to discuss things with the two of you, so you had to endure more loving touches and heartwarming compliments from the redhead.

At one point, Stark and Osborn had a conversation in the hallway outside the conference room, which of course had glass walls, making it hard to catch a break from faking your relationship.

You were reviewing a document with Wanda beside you when she spoke.

“Can you sign this one for me?” She handed you a form and a pen.

“What, no ‘please?’” You joked.

“No, I don’t think I need to ask, you’ll just do it if I tell you to,” she remarked back, catching you slightly off guard.

When you took the pen from her, your fingers touched and you knew Wanda did it on purpose. You looked over at her, feeling small under her intense stare, before signing the form and sliding it back to her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, sounding slightly distracted, causing you to look at her again.

When you did, her eyes weren’t on yours.

“Osborn has wandering eyes,” she muttered under her breath, her gaze on your lips, and before you could respond she was kissing you softly.

Her lips against yours felt incredible, you couldn’t even lie to yourself. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and in that moment, you never wanted to detach from her. You would work through why that was later, right now all you could think about was her.

You kissed her back, lips moving together in tandem, fitted so perfectly against each other it created even more conflicting feelings within you.

It didn’t last nearly as long as you wished it did, wondering why on earth you were hoping for more when it was Wanda you were kissing.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, leaving one last quick kiss on your lips before saying something about printing more documents and walking off.

You sat there for a moment, trying to collect yourself. As you came back to reality, you noticed Osborn looking in from outside the conference room and you were coldly reminded that Wanda only did that so he would see it. It meant nothing to her and it shouldn’t mean anything to you either.

With that, you focused back on your work, knowing in a few minutes you’d have to go over more of it with Wanda and the show would continue. You just had to keep reminding yourself that none of it was real.

From where she stood at the printer, Wanda smirked to herself at how you reacted to the kiss - she wasn’t going to let that go anytime soon. She knew she’d have time to tease you about it later, after she was done cursing herself for thinking about how soft your lips were against hers.

The rest of the day went by fairly smoothly. Stark and Osborn spent most of their time in Stark’s office, so you and Wanda had some time to cool off from the kiss earlier. That didn’t stop Wanda’s teasing touches however, because Osborn’s employees could be anywhere, and it seemed she was enjoying torturing you in a new way.

By the time you were getting ready to head home, you were beyond flustered and fairly certain you’d need to change your underwear. If Wanda wasn’t infuriating enough already, it was only made worse by the fact that she had this effect on you.

The days that followed were similar to that first day. You and Wanda continued to pretend to be a couple, with Wanda winding you up every chance she got, almost like she knew what she was doing to you.

Osborn was at the office a bit less every day, but his employees were always there getting work done even when he wasn’t around.

Therefore, the show went on. Wanda had gotten in the habit of giving you soft pecks on your lips before she would get up to go take care of work-related tasks and it was driving you insane. The short and sweet kisses were too much and yet at the same time, never enough.

You had come to the conclusion that you definitely felt something for Wanda, something other than disdain and irritation. As much as you tried to fight it, you wanted her. You convinced yourself she would never feel the same way though; with how she had always acted towards you, it seemed impossible.

Every touch, every kiss, every pet name Wanda called you - it was all an act. You had to push your feelings down as much as possible because you didn’t want her to find out and you didn’t want to get hurt. So you kept your guard up and tried your hardest to ignore how you felt, despite the fact that Wanda wasn’t making it easy for you.

You were starting to wonder if the promotion was even worth it.

Even so, you carried on, doing excellent work under Stark in your new position and working surprisingly well with Wanda, from both a business perspective and a fake dating perspective.

You had also found it in you to initiate more of the relationship acts with Wanda, if not to satisfy your own desires then to at least mess with her. Sometimes you held her hand, sometimes you moved hair out of her face, sometimes you kissed her on the cheek - every time, she seemed to like it. You figured she was just acting, as you were supposed to, but part of you hoped she wasn’t.

You loved that she sometimes seemed nervous or flustered when you made a move or teased her.

One time when she kissed you, you separated first, while she was still attempting to keep the kiss going. You decided to mess with her and said jokingly, “if you want to keep kissing me, you could just ask” with a smirk plastered on your face. She blushed and hesitated before she spoke. “In your dreams,” she remarked, before going back to work. You considered that a win.

Maybe it was worth it if you could get a reaction out of her too.

It had been a week since the act started and tonight was date night. Starting tonight, you’d have to go on two dates with Wanda every week. Stark gave you a company card to put all of your expenses on for the night, telling you to take Wanda to a nice restaurant he recommended and enjoy dinner with her.

You were nervous to be alone with her outside of work, but you were also looking forward to it.

The restaurant was a block away from the Osborn building, which is why Stark had picked it out for your date. You’d have to keep up appearances while you were out with Wanda, but you didn’t mind. Part of you was excited to at least feel like you were taking her on a proper date. You wondered more than anything how she was feeling about it too.

At the end of the work day, you left the Stark building and walked home to get ready for your date. You decided to wear slacks and a black dress shirt, wanting to feel confident while also not giving Wanda the satisfaction of seeing you in a dress. You straightened your hair and touched up your makeup, hating the idea that you wanted so badly to impress Wanda.

Slipping into a pair of high heels, you finished getting ready just in time for a car to pull up in front of your apartment building, courtesy of Mr. Stark.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, giving you time to hype yourself up. It was just a date. It may have been just a date with your arch nemesis, but it was just a date. You’d been on dates before, you could do this. It wasn’t even a real date anyway, you told yourself, it was just another one of many performances between you and Wanda to secure your promotion at work.

When the car pulled up to the restaurant, you thanked the driver and got out, walking in to see if Wanda had already arrived.

As you spoke to the hostess about your reservation, the door opened and you were absolutely not prepared for what came next.

Wanda looked stunning; seeing her like this took your breath away. Unlike you, she had worn a dress. The black material hugged her body in all the right places, with a slit down the side, exposing her thigh.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Wanda said smugly as she approached, a cocky smile on her face.

“You look nice,” you managed to get out, trying to compose yourself.

“You do too for once,” she responded, smiling, the backhanded compliment not going unnoticed by you. You found that you didn’t mind.

The two of you were escorted to your table, where you pulled Wanda’s chair out for her and then sat down across from her.

“So chivalrous,” she commented, fingers tracing the menu in front of her.

“Anything for my beautiful girlfriend,” you said back mockingly.

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful?” she asked, smiling.

You rolled your eyes. “I also called you my girlfriend.”

“Yeah but you have to call me that. Didn’t have to call me beautiful,” she responded, raising an eyebrow. She had you there.

“Well, maybe I meant it,” you mumbled, trying to hide the truth behind your words and keep up the playful banter.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” she said, looking at you intently. You blushed, unable to hold eye contact after the compliment. You muttered out a quick “thank you” and decided the menu suddenly seemed really interesting.

After ordering your food and drinks - you made sure to get something with a little alcohol in it - an awkward silence settled over the two of you.

Wanda broke the silence first, chuckling.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s just funny. I never thought I’d be here, at this fancy restaurant, having dinner with you,” Wanda replied, but there was no malice in the way she said it, only amusement.

“Cheers to that, because I never thought I’d be here either,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Where did you think you’d be? What kind of future do you see for yourself?” Wanda asked genuinely. You weren’t prepared for the conversation to take such a turn but you answered anyway.

The rest of the dinner went surprisingly well; the two of you talked about your goals, your lives before working together, your hobbies, and anything else you could think of.

You learned that Wanda loved to garden and you found it ironic that a week ago you never would’ve thought she was capable of loving something enough to keep it alive.

By the end of the night, both of you were slightly tipsy and actually enjoying each other’s company. You covered the bill when it came, using the card Stark gave you, and the two of you walked outside to wait for your rides home.

You leaned against a brick wall, laughing at a joke Wanda told you, catching your breath. As you calmed down, you looked at Wanda, who still had a bright smile on her face. It was so genuine and real, you couldn’t help but stare, almost as if you were memorizing her face at that moment. You felt like you were seeing her for the first time. She was undeniably gorgeous all the time, but something about her letting her guard down and laughing with you allowed you to see her differently - she was breathtaking.

She was everything.

You didn’t realize you were staring for so long until she noticed and returned your gaze. Her eyes flickered down to your lips and you almost shivered at the motion.

Just as you were about to speak, Wanda leaned in.

You met her halfway, kissing her softly at first, getting lost in the feeling of her lips against yours. She brought her hand up behind your head, deepening the kiss and you almost moaned when you felt her tongue against your lips. Your lips parted to let her in and she kissed you with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life.

This was the longest kiss you’d shared, and by far the most intense one. You never wanted it to end, kissing her back just as eagerly, allowing your tongue to swipe against hers. Your hands came up to her cheeks, one finding its way behind her neck to play with the hairs at the nape of her neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, just feeling each other and forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

When her tongue licked into your mouth again, you whimpered, and that seemed to break the spell.

Wanda pulled back, pupils dilated, a slight look of panic painting her perfect features. “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” As if on cue, a car pulled up, one of Stark’s drivers, and Wanda got in.

She was gone as quickly as she was on you in the first place and it took your brain a moment to catch up with what had just happened.

The kiss didn’t feel planned, it didn’t feel fake, it didn’t feel like it was for Osborn or Stark or anyone at the company. It felt real - it felt like she wanted you just as badly as you wanted her. You wanted to believe that but you couldn’t let yourself. She left in such a hurry she obviously regretted the kiss and you weren’t entirely certain she hadn’t just done it because she saw someone from work walking by.

You groaned, reality sinking back in. Another car pulled up and you knew it was your ride home. You straightened yourself out and got in the car, letting your mind run through all the possibilities on the way home.

When you arrived at work the next day, something was off.

“Hey Y/N,” Wanda greeted you at the entrance and put a hand on your shoulder, letting her thumb rub circles, but it felt wrong. It felt calculated, like she was just going through the motions. Even the tone of her voice lacked energy.

You felt like she didn’t want to be there and didn’t want to be touching you - it was as if she was suddenly making no effort to be convincing.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned.

“Everything is just fine,” she said back, forcing a smile.

Before you could say anything else, she walked to her office and closed the door.

You went to your own office and looked over the documents you had to deal with for the day, before heading to Wanda’s office to work on them with her.

You knocked before poking your head in. “Conference room?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a sec,” Wanda replied coldly, void of any emotion.

You tried to ignore the way she was acting but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her usual cruelty towards you; this was somehow worse.

A few moments after you set up in the conference room, she came in, ignoring you and getting straight to work.

All day, she handed you papers to sign and occasionally put an arm around you when an Osborn employee walked by, swiftly removing it once they were out of sight.

At one point, Stark came in and gave you both a mountain of paperwork to do with a deadline of tomorrow morning at 8am. He apologized and said you could both stay late and get overtime, then left the room to meet his own deadlines.

So now what felt like the longest day of work was actually going to be the longest day of work.

Wanda’s behavior persisted throughout the day and well into your overtime hours. Everyone had left the office so there was no one left to put on a show for and Wanda made sure you knew that.

Her overall coldness towards you was bothering you more than it should’ve and you finally said something.

“You know, this whole relationship act is supposed to be convincing.”

“No one is here now,” she retorted nonchalantly.

“You’ve been acting like this all day.”

“And I’ve been touching you all day and being sweet with you in front of the others,” she said, before looking at you. “What, do you need more? In case you’ve forgotten, this whole relationship act is exactly that - an act.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. “Like I’m making this something it isn’t.”

“If the shoe fits,” Wanda replied, going back to her paperwork.

“No.” You stood up. “You don’t get to act like I’m the one blurring the lines between real and fake. You didn’t have to kiss me like that last night, but you did.”

She stood up too. “Maybe someone was watching, Y/N. What do you want me to say? That I wanted to kiss you? That I did it because you’re so irresistible I couldn’t help myself?” she snapped back callously, like she was trying to hurt you.

“I don’t care about the kiss!” You raised your voice. “I care about this promotion and I won’t let you ruin it just because you can’t handle whatever happened last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, it was a kiss. We’ve done it before. It meant nothing!” Wanda yelled back.

“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?” you said, holding eye contact.

With that, she shoved you against the nearest wall. “I hate you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, before she leaned in and kissed you hard.

Unlike your other kisses with the redhead, this one didn’t start out soft. It was rough and full of emotions. It was fueled by all the feelings swirling around within the two of you that you had yet to vocalize.

You kissed her back, you couldn’t help yourself. Just moments ago she had you on the verge of tears and now here you were, kissing her back like your life depended on it.

Your hands came up to her neck and you deepened the kiss, lips moving against hers purposefully as if you were trying to prove a point.

Your tongues met and mingled, both of you gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. You didn’t separate until you needed air.

“Just a kiss, huh?” you breathed out, your noses still touching.

“Shut up,” Wanda said back just as breathily.

“Make me,” you challenged, wanting to be difficult but also wanting her to kiss you again.

She leaned back in, lips connecting with yours, kissing you much softer this time. Her tongue met yours and it made you weak in the knees, the slowness of this kiss compared to the roughness of the first one making your head spin. You knew in that moment that you weren’t the only one feeling things.

Her hands found your waist, pinning you against the wall harder, and you moaned against her.

“You like that?” she said way too cockily, the words from her mouth managing to irritate you even when you were just enjoying that same mouth so much.

You flipped your positions, pinning her against the wall and she raised an eyebrow at you. “I like this,” you replied, kissing her again.

You let your hands wander, running up and down her sides, teasing her but not quite going anywhere in particular.

When you squeezed, she moaned into your mouth and you felt a pang of arousal at the sound. You wanted to pull more sounds like that out of her and began slowly untucking her shirt. You slid your hands underneath the fabric, feeling her soft skin beneath your fingers.

“Mmm, stop teasing,” she mumbled in between kisses, giving you permission to touch her more.

Your hands went further up her shirt, palming her breasts over her bra before sliding under. You brushed against her nipples with your thumbs and she moaned again, breaking the kiss.

You didn’t hesitate to trail kisses down her neck, then back up towards her ear, making her whimper as your hands continued to stimulate her sensitive nipples.

You were dragging it out - you wanted to take things slow in case she wanted to stop and you also wanted to tease her as much as possible, almost like you were making her pay for how she always treated you.

You continued your assault on her neck, kissing and sucking every inch of skin you could get your lips on, while she panted against you.

The beautiful sounds leaving her were only turning you on even more and you were slowly realizing that you’d wanted to do this for a while.

“Y/N,” Wanda panted out.

“Yeah?”

“Stop fucking teasing,” she demanded.

“What do you want?” you asked, running your thumbs over her nipples again to get a reaction.

She gasped, grabbing your throat with her hand. “Fuck me,” she said sternly, and how could you say no to her?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, kissing her again and removing your hands from her shirt.

You placed one of your hands on her thigh under her skirt, running it up her skin until you reached her underwear. Your fingers reached her panties, feeling a wet spot on the front of them. You moaned, your arousal skyrocketing at the thought that she was so wet for you.

“Yeah?” she said, teasing you. “Why don’t you stop feeling me up over my panties and fuck me, hm?”

You nodded and pushed her panties aside, feeling her wetness directly against your fingers. The fact that she was so turned on only served to turn you on even more. She wanted this just as much as you did.

Your index finger moved up to rub her clit, making her moan louder this time and if anyone was still in the building, they would’ve heard her.

“You like that?” You mirrored her words from earlier.

She managed to roll her eyes despite the pleasure she was feeling and leaned in to kiss you again, moaning into the kiss when you rubbed faster against her clit.

“Fuck me,” she whispered against your lips. Denying her felt like denying yourself at this point. You slid a finger into her opening, then followed up with a second finger, stretching her out.

She moaned and it was heavenly, making you want to hear her come undone for you. You started a rhythm inside her, fucking into her with purpose. The sounds leaving her lips made you throb with desire, she sounded so beautiful in the throes of pleasure.

You could hear how wet she was, sloshing sounds coming from where your fingers went to work, and it drove you crazy.

“Fuck, I can hear how wet you are,” you said, kissing down her neck again.

“You feel so good,” she panted out, moaning again as you hit a spot inside of her.

The sounds of her pussy were getting to you and you wanted to taste her so badly; you weren’t sure if you wanted her to cum like this first or if you needed your mouth on her before anything else.

“Can I taste you?” you asked, slowing your movements to both prolong her pleasure and delay her orgasm, as well as to give her a second to answer you.

“Fuck, yes,” she said, bucking her hips into your hand for more. “Wanna see you on your knees for me, detka.”

You couldn’t say no to her even if you tried, not when you wanted the same thing so desperately. You dropped to your knees, pulling her skirt up to reveal her pussy, underwear clinging to her folds and the stickiness between her thighs.

You practically drooled at the sight, pushing her panties further to the side to get a better view. You leaned in, kissing her pussy at first, then flicked your tongue against her clit, making her gasp. Her taste was heavenly and you wanted more, your tongue now exploring her eagerly.

“You taste so good, mommy,” you managed to mumble against her, the vibrations of your voice making her hips jerk against your face, which only made you more aroused. When you realized what you said, you almost stopped what you were doing. But a few simple words helped you to not falter too much.

“Call me that again,” Wanda moaned, hips bucking against you as if she was trying to get herself off on your mouth.

“Mommy,” you obeyed, unable to deny her at this point, and equally turned on by the name.

“Fuck. Such a good girl for mommy,” she breathed out, rutting her hips with purpose and grinding her clit against your tongue.

You moaned into her pussy at the praise, licking and sucking at her clit, letting your tongue dip inside her hole with every downstroke.

“Ohh, does my baby have a praise kink?” she cooed, somehow managing to make you flustered and embarrassed while you were bringing her to orgasm.

When you didn’t respond, too enamored with eating her out, she grabbed your chin harshly and made you face her.

“Answer mommy when she asks you a question,” she commanded, keeping you just inches from where you wanted to taste her again.

“Yes,” you whined, breathing heavily with how aroused you were.

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy,” you said, looking up at her with lust in your eyes.

“Good girl,” she praised, redirecting you back to her dripping cunt, keeping her hand at the back of your head to guide your movements.

She moaned when you made contact again, your lips wrapping around her clit, sucking obediently. You wanted her to cum for you. You wanted to bring her pleasure, to get off on her sounds and her taste, but at the same time, part of you also wanted to assert some kind of dominance over her. She’d bullied you relentlessly since you started working for the same company as her and this was your way of taking back control.

She may have been in charge, with her hand at the back of your head, keeping you close so she could fuck your face the way she wanted to, but you had the power to tip her over the edge she so desperately wanted to reach.

And it was intoxicating.

But then again, everything about Wanda Maximoff was intoxicating. Her beautiful face, her hypnotizing voice, her sense of style, the sway of her hips when she walked, the quickness of her comebacks, and in the current moment, her scent, her taste, her moans, her movements against you. You had never wanted someone so badly in your life and you had her right where you wanted her.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” Wanda said, her grip tightening on your hair. Her clit throbbed under your tongue, her hole clenching around nothing as you brought her closer and closer to the edge.

You doubled down on your efforts, wanting to see her fall apart for you. Your index finger teased her folds, dipping into her hole as you sucked on her clit. When you pushed two fingers into her while continuing your stimulation on her hardened bud, she came, moaning your name so prettily as her cum coated your fingers and chin.

You lapped up as much as you could before she began to push you away and pull you back up. She kissed you, tasting herself on your tongue, a deep sound from the back of her throat emerging at the sensation.

“Maybe you can be a good girl after all, hm?” She mused, looking at you lazily as she pulled away from the kiss.

Her hand came down, reaching into your pants and then your panties to feel where you were turned on beyond belief.

“When have I not been one?” you questioned.

“Maybe when you’re talking back to me,” she said, biting her lip.

“I can think of something better I could be doing with my mouth,” you shot back.

Wanda moved her hand so she could really feel you against her, running her fingers up and down your slit.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” Wanda said. “Did I do that?” She asked, continuing to touch you.

You nodded, somewhat distracted as you admired the way she looked in her post-orgasm haze. You wanted her again - one time wasn’t enough.

“Can you go again?” you blurted out, staring at her with such want it almost surprised her. “Please,” you begged, stroking her cheek with your thumb as you looked into her eyes.

“What about you?” She asked.

“Just wanna make you cum again mommy,” you responded, practically pleading.

She couldn’t say no to you at that moment, and she didn’t want to either. “Okay detka, go ahead, make mommy feel good,” she said, her teeth coming down onto her lip as you descended once more.

Sliding her panties off, you brought your mouth down to where she was dripping and slid your tongue as deep as it would go, your thumb coming up to rub circles into her clit.

“Yes, that’s so good,” Wanda cried out, bucking her hips as you fucked into her with your tongue. “Fuck, eat my pussy just like that,” she said, making you moan against her.

After a few moments, she came again, and you licked at her folds until she rode out the aftershocks, twitching against your face. You couldn’t get enough, mouthing at her pussy for as long as you could before she brought you back up once more, staring at you so intimately it made you nervous despite the fact that you’d just done extremely unprofessional things to her in the conference room.

“So, a praise kink and a mommy kink, huh?” She chuckled, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Shut up.” You blushed, trying to hide your face in her neck out of embarrassment.

“Make me,” she said, using your own words from earlier against you.

You kissed her to shut her up, and also because you just wanted to. She could taste herself on your lips and on your tongue and it almost made her want to go again. The two of you stayed like that, lips glued to each other, for a long moment before separating, out of breath.

“So was this pretend too or?” You half joked, knowing it wasn’t but also unsure if she would ice you out again after this.

“No,” she started. “This did mean something, despite what I said earlier. I don’t sleep around just to sleep around,” she said earnestly. “I want you.”

You were somewhat surprised she didn’t come back with some snarky remark or crude joke, but you weren’t going to complain when the woman you wanted more than anything was confessing that she felt the same way.

“I want you too,” you uttered, looking down at her lips subconsciously.

“I kinda figured that out when you were getting on your knees for me, sweetheart,” she responded.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, leaning in to kiss her again.

When the two of you broke apart, you spoke again. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“We still have to pretend to date. Can we do that?” you asked.

“We could pretend,” she started. “Or we could just do it.”

“What, date?”

“Yeah, why not?” she questioned, seeming slightly nervous as she proposed the idea.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “All this time…”

“I don’t hate you,” Wanda cut in. “I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I guess I just saw myself in you. Someone determined, ambitious, competitive, like a younger version of me. So of course, you were my competition. And I also saw something I wanted but couldn’t have, or so I thought. I never thought you’d want me too. I don’t know, I can’t justify how I treated you, I’m sorry.”

You paused, taking a moment to think everything over before speaking again.

“Look, I don’t know what I want out of this, but I’m willing to see where it goes,” you finally said, hoping she was on the same page.

“I’m okay with that.” She smiled, perhaps out of relief, and brushed some hair out of your face. “Let’s fake it till we make it, yeah?” She joked, making you smile back at her.

“Works for me,” you said, looking at her with an unreadable expression, one which you might later realize was pure devotion. Despite everything you’d been through with her, you were falling fast and there was no way to stop it.

The following week was something of a dream come true. You and Wanda worked together, but this time the only tension present was sexual. You acted like a couple and you didn’t even have to try anymore, it just came naturally.

Wanda’s teasing touches increased tenfold, with her constantly trying to turn you on in the most inappropriate of places, whether it was in Stark’s office with her hand tracing patterns on the small of your back or in the conference room with dirty words whispered in your ear and while everyone was still in the building.

The two of you stayed late a few nights to finish up paperwork, finding that it was hard to get any work done when you were left alone with each other.

You’d made Wanda cum against the conference table more than once and she’d even come home with you one night to continue your activities. You fucked her with your fingers against your front door and again in your bed with your strap, making her see stars every time you had your way with her. It was very quickly becoming one of your favorite ways to relieve stress, especially with the merger increasing your workload.

Mr. Stark was pleased with your “performance,” pulling you aside to tell you that Osborn absolutely adored the two of you and your relationship. You figured once there was a label on things, you’d break it to him that you were actually together now.

You and Wanda had not only been having regular sex, but had been talking about deeper things with each other, including your own history. She opened up about her insecurities and you did the same, kissing each other softly after and then snuggling up to watch a movie.

Wanda stayed over some nights and the following mornings you’d walk to work together, stopping at your favorite coffee shop for a warm drink on the way.

The two dates a week had originally felt like a burden, but now you were grateful for the chance to take your favorite girl on a date twice a week, all expenses paid by the boss. You didn’t care that Osborn employees might be lurking around, you touched Wanda when you wanted to and it had nothing to do with appearances.

Months passed, and the merger was finally coming to a close. Half of Stark Industries��� client base had become regular customers of the Osborn group, and Stark now owned a percentage of Osborn’s company.

You and Wanda maintained your higher positions, still working directly under Stark with a nice pay raise.

You’d asked Wanda to be your official girlfriend a few weeks after your first time sleeping together and she moved in with you two months later.

Stark was surprised to find out the two of you were no longer faking it, but he was happy for you and started calling himself the millionaire matchmaker.

Sometimes the two of you still fought, your snarky and sarcastic personalities unable to be pushed down so easily, but it usually ended with Wanda bent over a surface of the apartment or workplace after hours, with your fingers or your tongue inside her pussy.

If you really pushed her buttons, it ended with your hands tied to the headboard while Wanda touched herself above you and mocked your desperation to be the one giving her pleasure; “bad girls don’t get to touch mommy, so just sit there and look pretty for me,” she would say.

The teasing and the jokes were a huge foundation for your relationship so long as they weren’t taken too far, and you found that you loved that part of her despite how it used to be used against you.

Wanda could be incredibly sweet though and you loved that about her too. She knew when to pick playful fights with you and when to be softer; she knew how to act when you needed reassurance from her and she knew how to make you feel safe.

At the end of the day, you fell hard for the one person you never should’ve fallen for, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Your people

Tags: trueform!Sukuna x fem!reader, virgin!reader, plussized!reader, reader has a vagina, Sukuna has two dicks, softer!Sukuna, Sukuna’s a chubby chaser, exhibitionism, praise kink, not proofread, nsfw, mdni

Synopsis: Sukuna makes you his queen, and he takes you for the first time in front of all his people.

An: This is based off a hentai I saw once. I do not remember the name 😭 Also, I apologize I gave up on this fic and it quickly derailed to mindless smut.

“I don’t… I don’t think I can do it…” You stumble over your words as you look towards the glass door that leads to your expansive balcony. All of Sukuna’s… and your subjects will be able to be seen from the balcony. You’ll be on full display.

Sukuna cocks an eyebrow at you as he witnesses you getting cold feet. It was to be expected. You’re fully human with morals and a conscience intact. Curses rarely ever had those two things. Besides, you weren’t use to the customs of the court.

“You don’t wish to be claimed by me in front of my people?” He asks, leaning against the door to block your vision of the outside. It was tradition for the king to take his wife in front of all of his subjects to mark her as his territory. While Sukuna didn't abide by most traditions, he was quite fond of this one.

This also held double meaning for curses. A virgin queen being taken by their king in front of them was said to bring prosperity and power amongst all of them. The sight of innocence being tainted by the true apex of evil was empowering for all to witness.

“It’s.. I..” Your words keep failing you. Sukuna, giving you a fair shot, had warned you about this custom. He had been courting you for a while now, but he always declined taking things any further than dry humping. When you flat out begged for him, he finally told you his reasoning for keeping your virginity intact.

It’s just a one time deal. It’s basically consummating your marriage to him… in front of 500 curses… No big deal, right?

"I want to keep my dress on." You compromise. Maybe the experience would be less humiliating if you weren't fully naked and vulnerable.

Sukuna's eyes wander your form twice over as if he's carefully calculating if he could sacrifice the pleasure of seeing your tits bounce with each thrust.

"You wish for me to hike your skirt up and pull your panties down like you're some quick fuck?" He tsks, rolling his eyes. "You are my wife. I'm going to take great pride in undressing you."

"For 500 curses to see,” you mutter as you avoided his gaze.

"They're going to see me naked as well." Sukuna shrugs like it's just another day for him.

“It’s different for you. I don’t know if you have the ability to feel shame,” you retort.

“You feel shameful about your body?” He asks as he cocks an eyebrow up. “No.. no, that just won’t do. My queen will not be shameful. Come here.”

You swallow thickly before slowly rising up from where you were sitting. Your feet barely pick up off the floor as you scoot yourself closer to him.

Sukuna clicks his tongue with disapproval before he wraps a firm but gentle hand around your arm. “Trust your husband and your king on this,” he whispers into your ear before he walks you out onto the balcony.

Your heart beat pulses wildly as you look out to the crowd of curses that gathered around the estate to watch you and Sukuna solidify your marriage.

Claps erupt from the crowd. Those who are able to cheer begin to do so.

Sukuna’s hands rub up and down your arms encouragingly. “They’re here to watch you, my flower.”

He then slices his hand through the air, and the crowd goes silent. “Kneel before your new queen.” His voice demands lowly.

The swarm of curses immediately bow their heads down, touching their foreheads to the dirt beneath their feet. Not one dared to defy Sukuna.

Nerves swarm your stomach. You can’t believe that you’re actually about to go through with this. Why did you have to fall in love with the king of curses?

Sukuna stands behind you, and his lower set of hands are placed on your hips while his upper set is still rubbing your shoulders and arms. He tilts his head down towards the crook of your neck.

“Let yourself feel me, flower.” His voice rumbles in your ear before his lips gently drag against the crook of your neck, causing you to shiver. He then presses slow open-mouthed kisses along your neck towards your collarbone to your shoulder.

You slowly allow your eyes to flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. No one dared to utter a word while Sukuna held his court’s attention. The only soft sounds to be heard were the sounds of his lips pressing against your skin.

His upper set of hands slowly untied the corset to your dress, and he used his thumbs on his lower set of hands to massage your hips and back. “Doing so good for me, petal. Do you want more?”

You sheepishly nod in response with a small hum of approval. You do want more, even if there was a crowd of curses before you.

“Mmm, that’s my queen,” he hums against your skin, nipping at your neck as his hands work faster to get the dress off you. To say he’s excited would be an understatement. It’s taken every bit of self control in Sukuna to not plow you into oblivion every time your sweet lips meet his.

The white fabric rustles as it falls to the ground. Per Sukuna’s request, you’re completely bare underneath. You bite your lip, leaning your head back towards his shoulder as you feel the shame seeping in.

“They do not see you, petal. Their eyes are on the ground,” he reassures you lowly. “This is for me right now. Do you understand?”

Your body shifts slightly, still feeling shy about your current predicament.

“Face me.” He steps back away from you, letting his hands fall to his sides as he expects for you to turn towards him, which you do… slowly.

Sukuna grunts lowly. The sight of your full breasts and plump hips greet him. Your plush tummy that acts as protection for your sacred womb makes his dicks harden in response. His eyes trail over the stretch marks that spread along your thighs and stomach. He feels his breath grow shallow. How do you not see the way your body appeals to him?

“The moon and the stars quake in the presence of your beauty. You are most precious to me, petal. You do not need to worry about anyone’s opinion on you other than your own. If anyone has anything to say, they can bring their concerns to me, and they’ll be dealt with swiftly.”

You feel tears sting in the back of your eyes. Despite marrying the incarnate of evil, Sukuna has been kinder to you than any human on this planet, even if he is rough around the edges.

“I love you, ‘kuna. I’m sorry to burden you with my own self conscious behaviors.”

“Why are you apologizing to me? You haven’t wronged me. Don’t apologize.” His hands reach up and gently cup your cheeks. “Let me have you wholly. I’ve been very patient, and now, I wish to claim my queen.”

Your hands find his chest as you slide your palms down his silk robes. The robes do absolutely nothing to hide the two monstrous cocks beneath them. You glance down and bite your lip gently from the sight. How you’re going to fit both of them inside you…? You’re unsure.

“I’m ready,” you softly respond with a small nod.

“Ready for what? Be specific.”

“I’m ready for you to take me, ‘kuna. I want you to claim me in front of your people and let them know that I’m entirely yours and no one else’s.”

One of his lower hands roughly swats against your round ass, causing you to jump forward slightly and gasp. The fat on your ass ripples from the harsh blow. One of his other hands reaches up and grabs your chin roughly, tilting your face to look up at him. “Good girl.”

His lips enraptures yours, and one of his lower hands slips between your thighs. When his fingers are met with slick, he groans into your mouth.

Your hands roam his chest through his robes as he slowly begins to rub his thick fingers against your slick folds. At this point, it's just you two. Your mind hasn't even thought about how your body looks or if the curses are gazing up at you.

Wanting to have skin-to-skin contact, you work to slip his robe off of his wide shoulders, exposing his scarred body for the world to see. Your fingertips gently dance across each and every discolored marking on his skin.

"You're testing my patience, petal." His voice is nearly a growl in warning, and he swiftly plunges two fingers into your tight wet entrance. The wet sound almost came across as a 'pop' while your cunt worked to accommodate his fingers.

"O-oh! shit..." you pant, burying your face into Sukuna's collarbone.

"I know, petal, I know. I have to prep you." The obscene sounds of his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wet channel filled the air. "Fuck. You're doing so good for me."

"S'kuna..." you whine, grabbing onto his arms for stability. Your knees nearly buckle as he stuffs in a third finger.

"'s gonna be a tight stretch, petal. You can take it though. You're gonna take whatever I give you, isn't that right?"

Your eyes are damn near rolling into the back of your head from how good his fingers feel. You finally get to soothe the dull empty ache that's been impossible to ignore since you and Sukuna became serious.

"Oh my god," spills from your lips as soon as he curls his fingers, pressing against that one spot that causes flurries to dance across your vision.

"I am your god, and you're going to worship me with that pretty little cunt of yours." He suddenly withdrew his fingers, drawing a whine out from your lips.

"I was close..." you whimpered as he spun you back around to face the curses who were still kneeling before you two. His hand shoved you against the railing, guiding your hips to arch back towards him.

"Don't worry, petal. You'll be close again before you know it." His hand wraps around one of his cocks, carefully fisting it as he looked at how pretty you were on display for him.

"Rise, and witness your king claim his queen," Sukuna ordered his people. His tip slowly nudges between your folds, gathering your slick onto his head.

You're too needy to even pay any mind to the curses. Your eyes were half-lidded, clouding your vision. You instinctively pushed your hips out more for your husband.

"Look at you," he lowly purred as he leaned over your back, pressing kisses against your ear and neck. His cockhead slowly nudged its way between your silken walls. His lower hands gripped your hips tightly. "Fuck... biiig stretch, petal."

"O-oh! Oh fuck-!" Your hands gripped the metal railing tightly. The intrusion was way more intense than you could've imagined. Involuntarily, tears sprung into your eyes.

"Such a fucking good girl~ Shit. You've been holding out on me, huh? Fuckin' cunt is tighter than I expected."

You choke out a gasp as he has to forcibly shove his hips forward to even make any progress. Your snug grip nearly has him locked in place while your soaking wet cunt tries to swallow him in.

"Su-kuna.." you whine between hiccups.

The curses are all watching in awe as Sukuna stretches you out with only one of his cocks. The other is smushed between your pillowy thighs, glazing them in a sheen of pre-cum. It feels like the crowd holds their breath until they spot it.

The light dribble that runs down one thigh... the subtle red ring around one of Sukuna's cocks. You feel a soft 'pop' inside you as Sukuna pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

"Ohh, there it is. You're all mine now, flower." He continues to slide in until he's fully sheathed. It nearly feels like he's trying to bully his way straight to your womb as his tip rubs against your cervix.

Your entire body is tingling, and you feel your legs already begin to tremble. This is what you get for marrying a monster.

It feels like his natural musk floods your nose, and you feel him everywhere possible.

Sukuna grunts as he tries to pump his hips. Key word: tries. It feels like his cock is being sealed by your warm gummy walls. "Ngh... you like that so much you don't wanna let me go, huh?" he taunts as he has to begin jerking his hips back and forth to get any sort of friction.

His lower cock is so heavy between your thighs. His thick shaft rubs against you, spreading your clear fluids everywhere. The sounds of sticky wet plaps are impossible to ignore.

"So good-! Fuck, you're so d-deep!" you pitifully cry while one of his upper hands grabs a handful over your hair, jerking your head up to look at your people.

Instead of the disgusted glares you expected to see, you're only met with gazes of wonder and amazement. They're truly enamored by you and your body, watching the most natural yet primitive action in the world.

"I can't believe I waited this long to feel you wrapped around me, flower. You feel like fucking heaven," he growls into your ear as his hips finally settle on a punishing pace. Your body is nearly knocked forward over the ledge with each brutal thrust.

Your cunt flutters around him as you feel a knot settle into your stomach. "I... Oh god, I'm gonna- I'm close, S'kuna..."

"I told you so." he grunts as his cock continues to bully its way against your cervix. He's leaking copious amounts of hot pre-cum inside you, lubricating you adequately so he can slide in and out. "Let go, petal. Soak my cock."

Your eyes squeeze shut as you hold your breath. Sukuna's red ochre eyes watch as your face twists in pleasure. "Breathe," he demands.

As soon as you push out a breath, you feel your orgasm break. Your cunt spasms uncontrollably around his girthy shaft as you babble about how good his dick feels inside you.

"God-fucking-dammit," he manages to strangle out. His thrusts grow rougher as his pelvic bone slaps against your ass rapidly, chasing after his own orgasm. "You ready, petal? Here it comes..."

He hunches over your back before his teeth dig into the flesh of your shoulder. You writhe in his tight grip as his cock floods you with his seed. You lean your head back against his shoulder as you're reduced to a mewling mess.

The curses surrounding the estate begin to cheer and clap loudly. Most of these curses have been alive for several hundred years, but they hadn't seen a claiming ritual yet. It was a joyous occasion for them.

Sukuna slowly relaxes his grip as his hips slowly rock against you, fucking you through your orgasm as well as his own.

"That was a lot," you murmur in a slurred tone, thoroughly fucked-out after your first time.

"You want some praise now?" Sukuna's gravely voice rumbles from behind you. He's gently coating your skin in sweet, soft kisses. "You've only done half the work, you know..."

You're about to bite back some remark, thinking he was referring to how he was the one doing most of the moving. However, your words die in your throat as he slowly drags his cock out from the warmth of your entrance.

He then reaches down, and he guides his second cock inside, plugging you up once again. One of his other hand then cups your breast, lightly pinching your nipple as he chuckles from the sounds of your whining.

"W-wait! I'm already sore.." you whine as you try to scramble away from his second monstrous cock. His tip was dark red, and you could feel him throbbing inside you already from neglect.

Your cunt was already accepting him in even if your words were misleading. Your body craved him, all of him.

"Don't be lazy, petal. I'm no where near done with you yet."

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[sknyuz]

hello!! I want to make a request ; is it alright if you can write about how seong je would be with a mute!reader? i just think it’d be an interesting dynamic ..! hmm other details i’d add is the reader often giving affection in a form of gifting (letters mayb?), cooking him a meal or quality time :) you may write this in whatever format you want!! thank youu and have a nice week (ps love your writing)

synopsis — seongje is a whirlwind of noise and chaos, but he finds unexpected peace in your silence.

now playing — sweet - cigarettes after sex pairing — geum seongje x gn!reader (hard of hearing, selectively mute) genre — hurt/comfort, slowburn, angst with soft moments, unconventional romance (nothing is conventional with seongje) cw — ableism/mocking of hearing disability, bullying, violence (including implied offscreen physical assault), power imbalance, toxic behavior, minor blood/bruising, strong language wc — ~2.1k

note: this was a pleasure to write <3 i hope i did ur request justice, anon. and please do not hesitate to tell me if i wrote something wrong or inaccurate to the experiences of hoh individuals.

masterlist | join the taglist | 400 follower event

seongje doesn’t do “quiet.” he doesn’t do subtlety, either. his entire existence is loud—his presence is a storm that makes everything feel tense and unpredictable. that’s how he’s known: the unpredictable, impulsive force, the mad dog. so, when he sees you for the first time, it’s almost like a challenge.

you’re sitting there, silently, in the bowling alley, a forced audience to the bullying happening around you. the union’s delinquents have gathered, sneering as they taunt you. they wave your hearing aids in front of you like a sick joke, expecting you to react. but you don’t. you’re quiet, your face unreadable, eyes glued to the floor, trying to stay as small as possible, like you’ve done countless times before. it’s a game for them, nothing more than a way to make you feel like an outsider.

“hey, freak, what’s wrong? can’t hear us?” one of them mocks, swinging your hearing aids back and forth with a smirk.

the noise is deafening to you in a different way—a slow, rising pressure in your chest. you want to speak, to make them stop. but your voice won’t come, and the words you want to say die in your throat, replaced by that quiet ache of helplessness.

that’s when seongje steps in.

he’s not supposed to be there. he’s supposed to be in baekjin’s office, probably arguing or being a general pain in the ass—but the noise coming from the alleyway catches his attention. he comes striding out, a curse on his lips as he surveys the scene, his eyes lighting up with the familiar flash of anger.

“what’s with all the fucking noise, fuckers?!,” seongje shouts, his voice dripping with disdain as he eyes the delinquents, but his gaze lands on the one holding your hearing aids, who freezes up as soon as he realizes who’s standing in front of him.

“aww, you guys are really fucking pathetic,” seongje steps forward, his mood shifting from bored to dangerous in an instant. he slaps the delinquent’s face, knocking the hearing aids out of his grip, and catches them before they hit the floor.

the delinquent stumbles back, startled, and seongje doesn’t miss the way his bravado slips. “hey, if you want to get your ass kicked, i’ll be happy to oblige. otherwise, get the fuck out of here,” seongje growls, and his voice carries an unmistakable warning.

the delinquents scatter quickly, realizing they’re not really looking forward to get beat up by the wolf himself. seongje watches them leave with a bored smirk, but his eyes return to you, where you’re still sitting silently, your gaze downcast. his anger bubbles under the surface, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at you—it’s more frustration at how they treated you. and, maybe… it’s confusion. because why would he be frustrated?

he despises those who put on a front, acting all tough and dominant when they're around someone they know is weaker, but turn into cowards the moment they face someone like seongje. the hypocrisy makes him sick—they don’t even have the balls to face him.

you look up at him then, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stay locked inside. seongje stares back, a little too long, before he gestures to the now-empty bowling alley with a roll of his eyes.

“shit, it’s way too quiet in here now,” seongje mutters, half to himself. “i need a fucking drink. you coming?” his fist reaching out to you, making you flinch, but he simply turns and opens his palm to reveal your hearings aids, offering it back to you, his gaze not even meeting yours.

you hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. seongje doesn’t wait for a reply. he knows how this works—he doesn’t need words from you to tell if you’re okay. you’ve already said more than enough with that silence of yours.

it’s a few weeks later when seongje starts to notice something he wasn’t expecting—something soft. you’re not the type to speak, but you show him things. you leave him little letters. they’re simple at first, just words on paper—carefully written, neat and soft. but each one has meaning. you might leave him a note after a chaotic day, telling him, thank you for helping me today—a gesture he’s not used to.

seongje can’t stop himself from reading them over and over, even if he pretends they don’t matter. he tosses the first one aside in an exaggerated motion, but later, when he’s alone, he pulls it out again, trying to make sense of it. there’s something oddly comforting in your words. something real. his usual sharpness dulls just a little when he reads them.

it’s a typical night, and you don’t expect anything to go wrong. seongje has always been unpredictable, but you can’t stop yourself from trusting him. there’s a strange sort of understanding between the two of you now. he doesn’t need you to speak, and you don’t need him to be anything but… himself. still, you don’t expect what happens when he calls you to meet him in a parking lot late one evening.

the dim light from the streetlamps makes the whole place feel cold and detached. you spot him standing there, leaning against the hood of a car, his eyes narrowing slightly when he sees you approach. but there’s something different tonight—something unsettling in his stance.

"come here," seongje says, his voice almost too casual for the tense atmosphere.

your breath catches in your throat as the boy on his knees comes into focus. you've seen him around before—he’s one of the delinquents from the union. the same one who’d been taunting you in the bowling alley, waving your hearing aids like some cruel joke. that memory hits you sharply, and your stomach churns with discomfort as you recognize him now, his face bruised and bloodied, a lip split open, looking like he’s been through hell.

but why is he here? why is he on his knees, shaking in front of seongje? what happened to him?

seongje stands over him, his posture casual, his grin wide and wicked as he watches the boy with almost bored amusement. he kicks the delinquent’s side lightly, like it’s a game, and the boy flinches.

"come on, kid," seongje says, his voice teasing but edged with something darker, something almost amused by the kid’s fear. "just like we practiced."

the delinquent on his knees doesn’t speak, his eyes downcast, probably too terrified to even look up at seongje, but his shaky hand lifts. you watch as he tries to make the "a" handshape, his fingers clumsy as he attempts to sign. seongje looks down at the boy, his grin stretching wider as he watches him fumble.

the delinquent hurriedly completes the sign, his hands shaking, his breath coming in short bursts as he struggles to perform it correctly. he spins his hand in a half-hearted clockwise motion, and you can tell how hard it is for him to even try. he looks humiliated, and maybe that’s what seongje wants—to make him feel small, to show that he’s the one in control now. like how the boy probably felt back in the bowling alley with you.

“sorry.” he signed.

as the boy finishes, seongje pats his shoulder with an almost affectionate thud, a grin still plastered on his face. “good job,” he mutters, voice dripping with mock praise. but his eyes flick to you, then back to the delinquent, as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

the delinquent scrambles to his feet, not daring to say a word, but you can see the fear still fresh in his eyes. without another glance, he stumbles off into the shadows of the parking lot, and seongje doesn’t follow him, not bothering with any more theatrics. “now that’s how you apologize,” he sighs contentedly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as he walks back to where you two came from.

you don’t respond, but you follow him. because, despite everything—despite how messed up all of this is—he’s still the one who, somehow, happened to feel like the safest person to be around. despite his… unique antics.

despite the way he does things no one else would dare to. because even if he’s rough around the edges, unpredictable and loud, seongje never made you feel small. and that, weirdly enough, was enough.

seongje’s desk at the bowling alley becomes a quiet sort of shrine to you—littered with your letters and notes, half-crumpled from him rereading them over and over. he never bothers to clean it up. they’re scattered across the surface like leaves in a storm, but he knows exactly where each one is. it’s an organized mess, chaotic in the same way he is. but if anyone even looks at them too long—tries to pick one up, makes a joke about the handwriting, even breathes too close to the edge of his desk—they’re basically asking for a death wish.

“touch it and you die,” he’ll mutter without even looking up, one foot kicked up on the desk, cigarette dangling from his lips. it’s not even a threat—it’s a promise.

somewhere in between the late night meetups—where the world is quiet and it’s just the two of you—and the stolen moments in back rooms lit by vending machine glow, seongje softens. not in a way that’s obvious to most, but in ways you catch. like when he plays bowling with you late at night at the union headquarters, just the sound of pins crashing echoing through the empty lanes. he’s terrible at it, but he doesn’t care. he would fair better hitting someone at the back of the head with these bowling balls. he only really lights up when it’s your turn.

you roll the ball, knock down every pin, and before you can even react, he’s throwing his hands in the air, exaggeratedly signing applause, a wide grin stretching across his face.

“that’s what i’m fucking talking about!” he shouts, clapping loudly on top of the sign for applause he just made, just because he’s still him—loud, obnoxious, impossible—but now he’s loud for you.

yeah… to seongje, you’re like a stray puppy at first. small, quiet, following him around without saying a word, eyes always wide and watching. at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny—endearing, even. you don’t talk back, don’t flinch when he’s loud, and you’ve got this habit of showing up with little notes or food like some soft, strange ritual he doesn’t understand. he starts calling you “puppy” just to mess with you, ruffling your hair whenever you come around.

but somewhere along the way, that fondness stops being just a game. no, you’re not a pet to seongje. but maybe, you became an equal.

he starts waiting for your notes. starts leaving his office door slightly cracked, just in case you come by. he catches himself watching you instead of his phone. gets weirdly pissed off when other people so much as look at you wrong.

and the night he realizes it’s different—that it’s not just him babysitting some quiet kid—it’s when you sign “stay” with soft hands after a long night, and he does. no grumbling, no jokes, just settles next to you and doesn’t leave.

after that, it’s not a question. you’re not a puppy. you’re his person.

and yeah, maybe he never said you were dating. but everyone knows. you leave your food in the union’s fridge, your letters in his desk, your comfort in the chaos of his life. and he protects you, respects you, listens to your silence more than he’s ever listened to anyone’s voice. and no one in the union dares to bring it up or even question your soft presence in the nitty gritty bowling alley.

seongje is loud. like, really fucking loud. he talks with his whole body, yells when he's annoyed, laughs like he owns the air around him, and never knows when to shut up. he's noise and motion and chaos wrapped in one, dangerously sharp-edged boy. but you—you're quiet. not just in voice, but in presence. you move gently, offer kindness without demanding attention, speak in ways that don’t need sound.

and somehow, in all the noise of his world, your silence is the only thing that ever made sense. he used to think silence was empty, but now it’s where he finds comfort. he’s still loud, still volatile, still the type to throw a punch first and maybe ask questions never. but now there’s this... softness around the edges. a space he carves out just for you. like you’re the eye of the storm, and he’s always, always circling back to you.

in your quiet, he feels understood. and maybe that's the wildest thing about this whole mess—that a boy made of sound found peace in someone who never had to say a word.

note: aaa i feel like this so short >><< i wanted to give them more of a backstory but for now this is what i’m going with. if you’d like to see more of them that’d be nice 🫶 this is such a different take from collarless tho, and it’s nice to also write a softer character to contrast our tough collarless!reader to explore more dynamics with seongje.

i don’t aim to reform or soften seongje, but have the peaceful presence of the reader be incorporated into his life without changing his ideals and personality.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ weak hero class ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia @mrgzzarella @ilyhachii @youmeshii @actuallynarii @midnight--raine @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @trasshy-artist @crowneve @juicyjam @xh01bri @onyourlisa345 @triciawritesstuff @prettywhenicry4 @dripoftheseus @rosieparkk @gacktsa @sopitadearvejas @satorustorm @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @mirwors @sqacewalkr @l5byrinth @vovoloyo @keumbaku @sarcastic-cookie @v3n0m35 @vitaminbtob @armani78 (ask to be tagged or removed)

[morcez]

IFHY

Synopsis: You are forced to work on a project with the man you hate the most, Satoru Gojo. Satoru is the campus fuck boy, but what happens when he tries to add you to his roster?

Content: College au, Fuckboy!Gojo x Nerd!Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, rejection, mature, suggestive, Gojo is a huge asshole.

enemies to lovers. enemies to even bigger enemies.

wc: 2.4k

Satoru Gojo is the biggest asshole known on campus, the standard fuck boy. He’s a spoiled brat. You hated him. You hated him the same way oil hates water. You hate the way he’d get praised like a god for the bare minimum, you hated how he treated women like mating holes, you hated how damn fine he is. He wasn't fond of people like you either. Girls who don't throw themselves at him and much rather focus on their peace. Guys like him found quiet girls like you as homework answers or a checkpoint to brag about to their douchebag friends ‘Yeah dude, I fucked loser in me lang class.’ It makes you shiver thinking about how gross those types of guys are, and how pathetic you must be to let one in your pants. You’ve had very minimal interactions with Satoru. You weren’t his usual type, so why bother speaking to you?

It was a normal day for the most part. You sat in the back of your ethics class, the class you happened to share with Satoru. You’re not quite sure why he even takes this class, as if he’s ever thought critically a day in his life. He sits in the very front of class, likely to Kento's request. He sits with his two roommates, Suguru and Kento, who couldn’t be any more different from him. 

As class starts, the professor announces that there will be a project that must be worked on with a partner. Nothing out of the ordinary. You look around the class, seeking who you would partner up with. There weren't too many promising options. Maybe Nanami? You've partnered with him before in other classes. He’s probably the only one who’s on the intelligence level. You’re eyeing the handsome blonde so intensely that you don’t even notice Satoru standing in front of you.

“You got a thing for Kento?”

You jump at the sudden sound, then groan, realizing who it is.

“Ya’ know he’s way less classy than he displays himself to be.” He says, looking down at your seated frame.

“I was just going to ask to pair up with him,” you say quickly, hoping Satoru would just go away.

“He’s already partnered with Suguru.” Something in his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Satoru and Suguru are two peas in a pod. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen one without the other.

“Why aren’t you paired with Suguru?” You ask with your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. 

“I’d much rather you be my partner.”

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhh. ewwwwwwwwwwwww. You aren't sure what game he’s playing, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him use you to win.

“No, thank you, Satoru.” You stare him straight in the eye. Expecting him to have a harsh reaction. But he stood there looking at you with the same smug smile on his face.

“Everyone else already has a partner,” he bites his lip to attempt to contain his giggle.

You look around the class to see everyone already seated with another person.

He won.

He begins to turn and walk away, a smug grin still on his face.

“I’ll see you soon, partner.”

It’s been two days since you were forced into being group partners with Satoru. You had Satoru Gojo blocked on all your social media; he had to get your number by begging Kento. Satoru insisted that you should come over and study because "libraries and cafes cause too much distraction." You smelt bullshit from a mile away, but school is too expensive to be fucking around with your grades, so you reluctantly agree.

You honestly contemplated ignoring him and the assignment altogether, but here you are, standing outside of his apartment door. You knock on the door a few times. Part of you hoped that he forgot so you could just go home. The door unlocks and opens carefully. You're greeted by Suguru, his sharp eyes stare at you for a minute before flashing a kind smile.

"Satoru, your partners here!" He yells before letting you in.

Their apartment is huge, it might as well be considered a house. The kitchen and living area are spacious and surprisingly clean. Their home is gorgeous; you couldn't help but compare it to your compact dorm. Both Satoru and Kento are seated on the coach. Satoru gets up once he notices your presence. Kento gives you a small smile and wave, then looks at Satoru in disgust. Satoru gives Kento a cheeky smile in response.

The air felt heavy, and you sensed there was some type of bickering occurring before you arrived. Too scared to say anything, it felt like you were standing on fragile glass.

"Let's get some privacy," He says, staring straight at Kento. He places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to his room. " I wouldn't want us to have any distractions."

Satorus' room is isolated from the rest of the home, standing at the end of a long and empty hallway. His room is actually decently decorated. Posters and Vinyls littered his walls. His desk set up was neat, with expensive gaming equipment, of course. There are flourishing plants decorating his windowsill. You wondered which girl he screwd helped him decorate. Soundproof foam plastered to his wall, you didn't want to think too hard about what he had it for.

You’re sitting in the Satoru Gojo's bedroom. He’s sitting on his bed, a huge textbook sprawled across his lap. You’re sitting at his desk, on his overly pricey gaming chair. You tried to create as much space as possible between you two. You didn't say a word, as if you hoped he’d forget you're there. Hold your breath; scared to breathe too loudly. The man releases a dramatic sigh, finally breaking the loud silence in the room. 

“Ya’ know, the whole point of being partners is to work together.” He says, slightly annoyed. You give a hum in response. You refuse to turn to look at him, opting to look at the words on the computer screen in front of you instead.

He lets out a scoff. “Why so far? Hm?”

You choke on air. You haven't entertained him whatsoever. Why is he trying? Is he that committed to being a whore?

“C’mere." He pats his navy blue sheets, the space next to him. This textbook is sooo confusing. I need your help.” 

You turn to face him. Greeted by a sinister grin. You knew it was a ploy to get you in his bed, but you weren't going to let this horny bastard ruin your grade. With a groan, you stand up from his comfortable gaming chair and make your way over to his bed. You sit as far as you can, while still being able to see the textbook lying on his lap. So not far. He scoots closer to you, closing the already small gap between you two.

“What were you confused about?” You say trying to steady your voice. 

He grabs your hand that's closest to him and drags it to the page, using your hand to point to the portion he was ‘confused’ about. Your breath hitches at the contact.

The nerve of this guy.

“Explain it to me? Please, Smarty?” His bright eyes lingered on you, as if he were not allowed to look away. You refuse to maintain eye contact any longer. Mumbling the explanation he asked for, as your nervous eyes try to find anything else to look at. He continues to look at you, intently and amused, as if your anxiousness was entertaining. His thumb lightly rubs over your hand sensually. 

“So much knowledge in that pretty head of yours.” He coos.

Is he allergic to reading the room? So damn sure that every woman that crosses his path wants to fuck him. 

You're angry. So damn annoyed. Who even is he?

You scoffed and aggressively retracted your hand from under his. You expected him to be angry, annoyed, or surprised. But when you look at him, he has confidence written all over his face. He closes the textbook and removes it from his lap. He turns his body to completely face you.

“Think you’re too good for me, smarty pants?” He teases.

You turn to face him completely.

He’s fucking unbelievable.

“I know I’m too good for you.” You state

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “What’s the ethics behind being a stubborn know-it-all?”

“Want to tell me what’s the ethics behind you being a dick for a brain whore?” You snap.

He has that flirtatious grin stapled on his face, as if he’s plotting something mischievous. Satoru places his hand on your knee, then slowly glides it up to your thigh. A chill shoots down your spine.

“Want me to show you instead?” 

His words make your stomach flip. His blue eyes make you freeze as if he were Medusa.

Your brain was yelling at you to go off. To scream at him. To hit him. To move his hand. But you didn’t stop him, and neither did you want to.

“You’re gross.” You mutter under your breath. Looking everywhere but at his face. Fearing that if you looked too long, you would've folded.

He chuckles amused. His hand travels up to the waistband of your pants.

“Sooo fucking disgusting.” He mocks

 He hooks his finger over your waistband, using it to tug you close to him.

Sitting face to face.

So close you can feel his breath. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear how fast your heart is pounding.

His hand plays with the elastic of your waistband a bit more like it’s a yo-yo toy. 

“You’re impossible.” You snark at him.

He laughs a bit, then lets go of your waistband. Letting the elastic slap your skin. You flinch at the impact.

“Is that so, smarty pants?” He asks with that filthy grin on his lips.

You give a small nod.

“real cute.” His hand slithers to grab your waist.

“I fucking hate you.” You say this, yet your actions are contradictory to your words. Your body is moving closer to him. Your arms move to rest on his shoulders. “I’m sure you do, sweetheart.” He lifts your hips and moves you closer to make you sit on his lap. You’re straddling the Satoru Gojo. His hands wander around your waist, your hips, and gives your ass some attention too.

“No, I mean it. I really do hate you.” Your hands once again betray your lips as you glide your hands over his muscular shoulders and pecs.

His hands slide underneath your shirt. You slightly jump at the sensation of his warm hands against your cold back.

“I hate how cocky you are, and how you think the whole world revolves around you. I hate how you think rules don’t apply to you…”

His eyes linger on you. The look on his face was unreadable. Was he getting upset? His hands grip on your waist slightly harsh, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your skin.

“I hate how you-“ suddenly his hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb landing on your lips. You finally shut up. He traces his thumb along your lips. He looks at you, engrossed in every single slight movement you make. 

“Well, I hate how you don’t know how to stop running that smart mouth of yours.”

He giggles at your silence.

“Hear that, smarty?” He pauses, referring to the silence. “Much better, right?”

You give him an annoyed glare, not daring to say another word. 

His other hand grips your hip securely. His glowing eyes glance down at your lips with a grin plastered on his.

He's ready to go in for a kiss. The move that solidifies his entry into any girl's pants. He's heard countless 'I would never sleep with him.'s Yet they all end up in his bed. Words couldn't express his excitement to finally add your name to the long list of bedbugs. He didn't care that Kento was upset about his little bet with Suguru to get in your pants. All that mattered was that you're exactly where he wanted you to be. He leans closer to you as he pulls you in. He closes his eyes. He’d never have thought he’d be this close to you, feeling your fluttering breath on your face. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and he’s already enjoying himself way more than he expected, way more than he should.

So very close to the two of y’all’s lips meeting, when suddenly he feels pressure to his forehead pushing him back.

Did you just push him?

Did you just reject him?

He lies back, his elbows holding his upper body up. He looks at you with confusion. His big blue eyes look up at you for answers, just to see you grinning. Satoru looks like a big, sad puppy.

He quickly sits up to be on the same level as you. His hands grip your hips tightly.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He whines. He fucking whines. His eyes look at you desperately. 

“Real cute.” You mock.

He looks at you as if you’re pure evil. How could you be so cruel, and look beautiful doing it?

“Don’t look so mad." You coo, "I was trying to tell you all the reasons I hated you, but you didn’t want to listen.”

He glares at you, and all the admiration in his eyes is gone.

“You’re such a fucking smart ass.” He barks.

You giggle with amusement.“You’re just mad I didn't get your cock wet.”

 He rolls his eyes at your words. 

“I should get going.” You sing with a sweet smile on your face, in contrast to Satoru’s sharp grimace. You give his shoulders two friendly taps before getting off his lap. His hands loosen their grip on your hips. It was weird. Even though he was seething with frustration, he didn’t want to let you go. He felt despair wash over his body once you were out of reach.

You make your way to his bedroom door, giving him a simple “See you around, Satoru.” Before walking out.

 

Soon after you left, Suguru and Kento went to Satoru's room, finding him lying on his bed, defeated. His hands covered his ashamed face.

Geto leans on the doorframe of Satoru's room. "Never thought you'd finish so fast." Geto calls out to him mockingly.

"Shut up," Satoru mumbles into his hands. "She rejected me."

Kento lets out a loud sigh of relief, and a "thank god" slips from his lips. Suguru laughs loudly at the platinum's defeat. "Smart girl." He says in between chuckles.

"She's not even that smart."

lie.

"She's not cute either."

Another lie.

"I fucking hate her"

Loud incorrect buzzer.

dividers from @v6que

A/N: I haven't made a piece this long in forever, so please spare me. I might make a part 2, so lmk if you'd like to be tagged! Thank you for reading!

[spinfins]

Please I need more of Manfred and Fred the Frog 🐸 😍💖💚💀💚

As you wish! <3

Fred the frog was having a wonderful first day, Manfred was sure of it. Firstly, because he got a new house.

“Please, Lace,” Emmrich asked their dwarf friend, “I’m a little out of my depth here.”

Harding’s mouth twitched. “Are you saying that you don’t know how to take care of something that’s…alive?”

“Harding, please!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Harding swallowed her giggles. “First we need a terrarium…”

“We have that,” Emmrich said, looking a little relieved they were on the right track. “Vorgoth had a very nice one on hand that he wasn’t using…”

“Vorgoth?” Lace giggled again. “What was he using it fo–?”

“Harding.”

“Okaaaaay, sheesh. Just being curious.” She winked at Manfred, who hissed in delight and concentrated very hard on not squeezing Fred too tightly. He didn’t want his eyes to bug out again and Emmrich to scold him.

“We should have everything we need in my room.”

And they did, with Harding’s help they filed the terrarium with mud, slime and mossy plants. In one corner they constructed a little pool of water with lovely stones for Fred to enjoy.

Emmrich said it was splendid, and Manfred agreed.

Lace graciously accepted their thanks and took her leave.

“Nice to meet you, Fred,” She giggled, and Manfred immediately thought: What a good idea! And took his leave also, leaving Emmrich slumped on his chair in relief.

The second part of the day was even better than the first, because Fred got introduced to all of Manfred’s friends.

“Oh hey! Nice frog!”

“Ahhh it’s so cute!”

“Mierda!”

And so on. It went very well and Manfred’s bones were clacking with pride and excitement, right up until the time he went to introduce Fred to his very best friend, Assan.

-

Taash winced and covered their ears.

“What’s with all the screaming!?” they bellowed at Bellara.

“What?!” Bel took a wad of cotton out of her ear.

“What’s with all the noise?!”

“Oh. Assan tried to eat Fred!”

Taash blinked in alarm, sure they hadn’t heard right. No way. Those two were as thick as a pair of Lords. They’d never turn on each other.

“What?!”

Bellara pointed and Taash went to look.

The courtyard just outside the library doors was in chaos. Assan was in air jail, held aloft by Davrin and Rook’s combined efforts. He screeched and pawed at the empty air for freedom. Manfred hissed angrily back at him from behind Emmrich.

“What’s going on!?” Taash roared.

Instantly Assan fell still and silent. He stared at the dragonslayer with wide eyes and gulped. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the noise ceased. Emmrich pushed his hair back into place.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said.

Manfred hissed resentfully and clutched something against his ribcage.

“No, it was!” Emmrich told him sternly. “Assan is still very young. You are the elder. You cannot always expect him to tell the difference between a snack and a friend. That’s not fair.”

“Why would Assan try to suddenly eat Manfred?” Taash said, their question still very much not answered.

Everyone, including Assan from where he hung limp in Davrin’s arms, blinked at Taash in confusion.

“Oh,” Rook said, “No. not Manfred, Taash, Fred.”

Manfred slipped out from behind Emmrich and held his cupped hands aloft for Taash to have a clear view of the bright green creature inside. It blinked at her with large orange eyes.

“That’s a frog,” Taash said.

“We know,” said Davrin and Emmrich in eerie (and very flat) unison.

“FRED!” Manfred pronounced.

“You named it after yourself?”

Manfred hissed in affirmation.

Yes, Fred the frog was having a very good first day indeed.

[multifandombabe]

Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader x Jackson!Tommy Miller

Short n' Sweet Description: Joel and Tommy both try to flirt with you in their own little ways

previous chapter (prologue) | next chapter

word count: 4k

warnings: cuteness, eventual angst, hardly proofread

tags: @diabaroxa

Winter came slow to Jackson that year, soft around the edges. The kind of cold that didn’t bite just yet, only nipped. The streets were dusted with a thin layer of white, like powdered sugar sifted over rooftops and boots and shoulders, melting before it ever truly settled.

You noticed the rip in your coat on a Tuesday.

A clean line near the sleeve, right where the fence had caught you coming back from patrol. You meant to fix it. Even pulled a needle and some thread from the supply bin and dropped it into your drawer. But the days blurred together lately. Between watch shifts, refilling the schoolhouse wood stove, and checking on that one kid who kept getting nosebleeds in the cold, you forgot.

Then, Friday morning, the tear was gone.

You stood in the doorway of your small house, half-awake, one sock on, staring at your coat hanging where you always left it. The sleeve- repaired. Not sloppily, not rushed. The stitching was neat, careful. 

You hadn’t asked anyone.

There was a slowness to life in Jackson, a rhythm built on kindness without ceremony. Things like this would happen sometimes. Sometimes the bushes in front of your house got trimmed by a neighbor, someone already out trimming their own so they figured 'why not?'.

But this felt different.

It wasn’t just kindness. It was intimate.

You didn’t say anything about it, but you wore the coat that day like a second skin, as if it might whisper the truth to you when no one else was around.

The cold had deepened by sundown. The kind that made your fingertips burn even through gloves. Patrol had been uneventful, if not beautiful- icy trees, wispy clouds, a fox darting through the brush.

When you got back, you went to the mess hall expecting the usual- lukewarm stew, people talking too loud, that flickering light that always buzzed near the back tables.

You did not expect the coffee.

There it was, already waiting, set down in your usual spot at the long table, steam curling from the top, the faint smell of roasted warmth. You hadn't even spoken to anyone yet.

You looked around.

Tommy stood near the window with a group of patrol guys, laughing about something. His laugh was big, full of teeth, easy. He caught your eye and grinned. You didn’t think anything of it- after all, Tommy was always flashing a smile your way. 

You sat, slowly. Hands wrapped around the mug. It was the exact way you liked it- strong, hot, cream and sugar. You just weren’t used to being… thought of. And lately, between the coat and the coffee, you’d been feeling thought of. 

You took a sip, letting the heat bloom across your tongue and sink into your chest. It made you feel a little bashful, a little strange. Like the universe had shifted just slightly on its axis and you weren’t quite standing where you used to.

⋆｡°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡⋆⋆｡°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡⋆⋆°✩₊⋆☽༓☾⋆₊✩°｡

The quiet of morning came wrapped in pale light and thin frost on your windowpane. Sleep hadn’t settled easy, not with your mind turning over every detail, the stitched up jacket, the coffee, a smile from across the room.

You were still tugging on your boots when the knock came.

You opened the door to find Joel Miller standing on your front porch. 

“You eat yet?” he asked, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, snow catching in his beard.

You hadn’t.

“Come on, then,” he said, without waiting for your answer. “I got somethin’.”

He led you to his place, where a cast iron pan hissed gently on the stove. Eggs, potatoes, bits of deer sausage, the good kind from last month’s trade. There were two mugs already set out, and a fire crackling low in the hearth.

“I had extra,” he said. “Figured you might be hungry.”

You were. And grateful. But also-

Also suspicious.

You seemed to have a secret admirer lately, and now this, such a forward invitation from Joel. You didn’t know what to say, so you let your hands busy themselves with food.

Joel didn’t press. Just sat with you, quiet as always, glancing over now and then like he was checking to make sure you were still sitting at his table.

Halfway through the meal, he nodded toward your coat, which you’d slung over the back of the chair.

“Held up alright?” he asked.

You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “The coat?”

“Yeah.” He reached for his fork again, casual. “That sleeve- figured it’d get worse if it went another week. Hope it’s stitched right.”

You froze, mid-chew.

“You fixed it?”

Joel blinked. “Well… yeah.”

Your heart did something stupid. Slow and tight and warm, like someone had pressed a hand to your chest from the inside. You set your fork down, still holding his eyes.

You laughed once, short and surprised. “That was really kind of you. Thank you.”

Joel gave a little grunt, brushing it off. “Ain’t nothin’. Just didn’t want you losin’ a whole arm to the wind.”

You smiled, then leaned back in your chair, watching the fire crackle a little while before adding, “Well, thank you for the coffee too. Yesterday and today. It’s perfect.”

Joel looked up. “Yesterday?”

You blinked. “At the mess hall. It was already there when I got in. Cream and sugar. Same way I like it.”

He tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Wasn’t me.”

A beat passed.

You laughed under your breath. Joel didn’t.

“Oh,” you said slowly. “Huh.”

Something passed between you- quiet, curious, a thread pulled just a little tighter.

That thread stayed tugged for the rest of the morning. It followed you through town, through chores, through the bite of wind that crept in beneath your scarf. You tried to shake it. Tried to focus on the to-do list pinned to your fridge. But mystery, you’d found, had a way of sharpening your attention.

By noon, Tommy found you outside the rec center, knee-deep in snow and elbow-deep in a snarl of string lights. Your gloves were damp, your nose was red, and your patience had thinned considerably after your third attempt to untangle the same section of wire. The prep for the upcoming New Year’s dance felt more like a punishment than a celebration, and you were quickly entering the “why the hell did I volunteer to do this?” stage of decorating. 

He approached at a light jog, breath clouding the air in front of him. His coat was dusted with snow, cheeks pink from the cold. “I heard you’re on town duty this week,” he said, brushing off his sleeves with a quick swipe. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of chopping kindling. Dropped off a load at your porch this morning.”

You looked up from the mess in your hands, blinking. “Oh. I- I didn’t see. Thanks.”

He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching up just a little. “No problem. Thought it might help.”

You nodded, not quite sure what else to say. He wasn’t sticking around for praise or waiting for you to gush. Just… being helpful.

Tommy glanced at the string of lights still dangling from your gloves. “Looks like those things are giving you hell.”

“They’re winning,” you muttered. “Pretty sure they’re sentient.”

He chuckled under his breath, crouching beside you. “Mind if I give you a hand?”

You hesitated, then handed him one end of the tangled bundle. “Be my guest.”

For a few minutes, the two of you worked in quiet rhythm. The wind tugged at your coat and made your eyes water, but the silence was comfortable. It was steady, easy. After a while, the lights started to look more like decorations and less like a trap.

Tommy stood and passed the now mostly-untangled strand back to you. “That should make it easier.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah. It does. Thanks again.”

He gave a small nod and stepped back, tugging his gloves on tighter. “Alright. I’ll get out of your way.”

You watched him head off down the snow-dusted path, boots crunching with each step. He didn’t look back.

You looked down at the lights in your hands. Still tangled in places, but manageable now. Somehow, that felt like enough.

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The next morning, your porch was shoveled and salted.

You stood in the open doorway with one boot half-laced, frowning at the neat, snowless planks beneath you. The step that usually iced over had been scraped clean, and the stairs had been swept down to bare wood. Whoever did it had taken their time- not just a quick pass, but careful work, even brushing off the railing.

You hadn’t heard a thing. No shovel scraping against the steps, no boots on the walk. And no tracks, either- the early morning flurries had already dusted everything over again, softening any evidence left behind. Like someone had done it without wanting to be known for it. You glanced up and down the street. A few lights on in nearby cabins. No one outside. No note. No hint.

Still, something in your chest tugged with quiet certainty. You didn’t know who had done it, but you had a guess. One you tried not to think about too hard as you tied your boots and stepped out.

By midday, the porch was a memory, but the feeling hadn’t left. That small, quiet gesture sat with you all morning like a pebble in your shoe- noticeable, persistent, oddly comforting.

You sat near the end of a bench in the dining hall, spoon halfway to your mouth, distracted. The room buzzed with the usual midday noise- clatter of trays, bursts of laughter, boots stomping dry against the floor. You barely noticed someone passing behind you until a low voice brushed the edge of your ear:

“Walkin’ in snow that deep ain’t good for you. Gonna get frostbite.”

You froze.

The spoon hovered midair. The words weren’t meant for anyone else. Not loud enough for the table. Not even meant to be responded to- just received.

You turned your head slightly, just in time to catch a glimpse of Joel’s broad shoulders moving down the aisle. He didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Just kept walking, like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Your pulse stuttered.

Of course it had been him.

That stubborn, silent kind of care. He hadn’t wanted thanks. He hadn’t wanted credit. He just wanted you to be warm. Safe. Steady. 

You set your spoon down and exhaled slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

Next time, you thought, maybe you’d get up early.

Maybe you’d catch him in the act. Maybe, you’d invite him in. 

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By late afternoon, the wind had picked up, whistling low through the trees as you dragged your load of firewood up to the porch. You didn’t need it yet, not with the embers from this morning still burning low, but you wanted something to do with your hands. The silence had started to feel too loud again.

The day moved like molasses. You did your rounds. Tidied. Checked the stock. You passed Joel on the way out of the mess hall later, and he nodded once. Nothing more. But his eyes lingered a half-second too long. 

You should’ve said something. A thank you, maybe. 

But you didn’t. Just kept walking, fingers tucked into your sleeves.

You stopped by the stables on your way home, out of habit more than anything. You paused by one of the stalls when you heard it. That laugh. Low, warm, worn at the edges.

Tommy.

He was leaning against the far wall, sleeves rolled to the elbow, coaxing a mule to stop being stubborn. Someone else stood nearby, laughing with him, but it was Tommy’s voice that hooked your attention. There was something about the way he smiled when he thought no one important was looking. Not cocky- just real.

You stood a minute too long, unsure what you were doing there.

Then he looked up.

His brow lifted, and something flickered behind his eyes. A hesitation. Like maybe he hadn’t meant for you to see him this way- open, a little unguarded.

You gave a small wave. Just two fingers.

He didn’t wave back. Just smiled.

But it was enough to warm the cold out of your fingertips.

Later, as the sky deepened to a dusky violet and the windows of Jackson blinked to life one by one, you walked home slow. Even though they weren’t there, you could still hear the crunch of snow under Joel’s boots behind you, still see the curve of Tommy’s smile, like he was holding something sweet behind his teeth.

You didn’t know where this was going. Or if it should be going anywhere at all.

But you knew, now, that you weren’t alone in it. Not really.

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That night, after lights-out, you found a note slipped under your door. It was folded twice, nothing fancy- just a torn-off scrap of ledger paper with handwriting you didn’t immediately recognize. Careful block letters, slightly tilted, like the writer had taken their time.

Check the back of the pantry. Thought you might want something sweet for once.

You stood there in your socks, coat still on, heart thudding as you opened the pantry and crouched low. Behind a tin of dried lentils and a cracked canister of oats, there it was: a jar of peach preserves. Glass, sealed, real. The kind of thing no one trades unless they mean it. Honey-gold against the dark. You could already taste the sunlight of it on your tongue.

You turned it over in your hands slowly, carefully. The label was worn thin at the corners, some summer brand from before the world had split open. But it was intact. Preserved, like the fruit inside.

And there, etched into the bottom- faint, but unmistakable- were the initials: T.M.

You stared, breath held.

They were small, careful letters. Not carved with force, but scratched in, carefully and gently. You recognized those letters, the way they were written. Three winters ago, your wrist had broken clean through on the ice behind the stables- black ice, sharp and invisible. You hadn’t screamed. Not even when they set it. But you had gone strangely still, unable to look at it. Bone out of place, skin already swelling purple.

You remember the way Tommy hovered- not panicked, but fierce, unblinking. He wasn’t even on shift that day, just happened to be nearby. He’d taken your other hand without asking. Held it in both of his, calloused palms steady and warm. You hadn't known him well yet. Just his name. His voice from across the square sometimes.

He kept talking- not to distract you, but maybe to ground himself. Said dumb things about boiled peanuts and why Texans never trusted Georgia peaches. Called you “tough as hell” with a tremble in his throat like it mattered that you were.

After that, he always looked at you like he remembered exactly how tough you were, despite looking fragile.  

You brush your fingers over the faintly carved initials now, the same ones that marked your cast back then, because Tommy had insisted on signing it, as if you two were in elementary school. Same hands. Same name.

This- this was his.

You ran your thumb over the marks, heart knocking softly against your ribs.

You’d thought, for a moment, when you first got a glimpse of the peaches, that maybe it had been Joel.

The porch. The stitching. The way he looked at you- like your presence calmed something in him, something raw and rattling just beneath the surface. Like you reminded him of music. Of peace.

But this… this was different.

The porch had been Joel. His was the kind of care that showed up in the practical things- unspoken, unasked for, and always just a little rough around the edges.

This, though- this was sweet on purpose.

This was Tommy.

Something about that made your stomach go soft, like it wasn’t sure whether to curl up or leap.

You set the jar gently on the counter and stood still for a long time, fingers resting on the lid. The kitchen was quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fire still holding on in the hearth. Snow tapped gently at the windows. Outside, Jackson had begun to yawn toward evening.

You weren’t used to being seen.

But lately, between Joel’s steadiness and Tommy’s sunshine, you weren’t sure how much longer you could pretend no one was looking.

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By the end of the week, you’d seen more of both of them than you had in the last month combined.

Joel had invited you to help fix a leaky pipe in the stables- “Just needs a second set of hands,” he said, like it was a demand. But he lingered afterward, eyes scanning your face like he was checking for hesitation, like the answer mattered more than the job itself. The pipe did need fixing. But it didn’t need two people to fix it. It didn’t need the two of you crawling around shoulder to shoulder in the hay for over an hour, sleeves rolled, hands brushing every time you reached for the same wrench. He handed you tools before you asked. Kept the conversation light- weather, rations, some murmured complaint about a new batch of boots Jackson had ordered being too stiff. But every so often, you’d catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye. Not in that way people stare when they want something- but in the way they size up something, a luxury they're trying to figure out if they can afford. Like he was trying to understand how it was possible you were still here with him, that you hadn’t realized how stupid of a job this was, how stupid of an excuse he had made up to spend some time with you. 

And Tommy, sugary sweet as always, showed up again at your door with a mess of firewood balanced on one shoulder and a sheepish grin. “Didn’t peg you for the sittin’-still type,” he said. “Figured I’d offer somethin’ better.” Then he nodded toward the trail that wound through the woods north of town- wide enough to walk side by side, mostly snow-packed by then. “I was gonna hike up past the ridge for a look at the river,” he added, voice casual, but his ears had gone pink with the cold- or maybe something else. “Thought maybe you’d wanna come.”

So you did.

You hiked for nearly two hours, the two of you crunching through snow in easy silence, boots scuffing the frozen ground. He asked questions you didn’t expect- how long you’d lived in Jackson, what your favorite part of winter was, if you missed the sound of traffic. And when you gave answers, real ones, not the kind you usually offered up just to shut a conversation down, he listened like every word you said built a clearer picture in his mind. Like he was trying to draw you from memory.

It wasn’t a date. But it felt like something.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose. If they knew what the other was doing. But each of them, in their own quiet way, kept finding reasons to be near you. Kept doing things just for you.

It was in the way Tommy lingered a little longer after you joked with him during lunch, his plate barely touched, like he’d rather memorize your smile than finish eating. In the way his hand hovered near your back when you both walked through a doorway. Never touched. Just hovered- like he wanted to but didn’t want to assume.

It was in the way Joel always walked on the side closest to the street, no matter where you were, never mind the fact that no one drove cars day-to-day in Jackson. In the way his hands twitched when you struggled with literally anything, itching to jump in and do it for you, and how he always managed to fix it silently after you'd gone. In the way he paused in his tracks when you laughed- like the sound caught him off guard, every single time.

Neither of them had said a thing. No flirtation. No confessions. No awkward declarations.

But you felt it anyway. In glances that lingered too long. In shared silences that stretched without breaking. In each unspoken offering of time, presence, and care.

And still, somehow, they never overlapped. 

Joel would come around during the day- usually in the early mornings, when the sky was still a pale, quiet blue and the cold clung to the grass like it hadn’t decided to leave yet. That was his time. When things still felt unfinished, like the world hadn’t fully woken up and he could slip through without being noticed. He helped reinforce the fencing of your garden, driving each post into the half-frozen dirt like it owed him something. Replaced the busted hinge on your back door without being asked, cursing under his breath the whole time but never walking away until it swung smooth again.

One morning, he came by with an extra canister of coffee grounds, the good kind- the one he knew you liked. He crouched to set it gently on your porch, already half-turned to leave before you’d ever know he was there.

But the door creaked open just as he stood, and you blinked down at him, startled in your robe and socks.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Joel?”

He froze mid-step like a kid caught sneaking out, cleared his throat, and glanced off toward the street. “Uh. Was just- ” He picked up the canister and held it awkwardly. “You were runnin’ low, I think. Figured I’d drop this off.”

You smiled, trying not to laugh at how stiff he’d gone. “You were gonna leave it and sneak off?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, that sheepish little scowl settling across his face. “Didn’t wanna make a thing of it.”

“Too late,” you teased, gently taking the coffee from his hands. “Thanks, Joel.”

He nodded, eyes flicking to your door then back to you, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay. “Ain’t nothin’.”

He offered breakfast at his place every day- never pushed, just a quiet knock in the morning, a “got some eggs goin’ if you want” spoken softly through the door.  He never waited for praise or thanks. He just did things. Left the hinge smooth, the garden standing, the coffee warm in your hands- like that was enough. Like your comfort was all the thanks he needed.

And maybe, in his own quiet, awkward way, it was.

Tommy, on the other hand, arrived in the spaces between. Late afternoons. Evenings. He'd catch you after patrol and walk with you until the streetlamps flickered on. He told stories- some real, some you suspected were exaggerated on purpose, just to make you smile. And he asked questions that made you think harder than you wanted to.

One night, he caught up with you outside the greenhouse, cheeks flushed from the cold, a small bundle wrapped in cloth in his hands.

“Found somethin’ you might like,” he said, and handed it to you with that same tilted grin that made your chest ache a little.

Inside the cloth were three dried orange slices, sticky with sweetness, and a handful of roasted almonds. Preserved. Rare. Not part of anyone’s ration.

You stared at it like he’d given you a relic.

“Where did you- ?”

He just shrugged. “People owe me favors.”

You tried to give it back. He didn’t let you.

“Let me do somethin’ nice for once,” he said, and the way he said it- quiet, almost tired- made it sound like maybe he didn’t get the chance very often.

So you kept it.

Later that night, curled in a blanket near the fire, the taste of citrus still on your tongue, you realized you hadn’t gone a day that week without thinking of both of them. Without wondering what it meant.

Not a triangle. Not yet.

But there was a shape forming. Soft. Slow. Subtle. Like snow building on a roof- quiet, steady, dangerous only if you tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

And you weren’t pretending anymore.

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next chapter

[herstarburststories]

The Cage (Joe Goldberg x Reader)

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x reader

Summary: Joe puts you in the cage after you've seen him in an incriminating situation. He comes back to check on you, and ends up facing a pleasurable situation: you, masturbating in the cage.

Warnings: masturbation, kidnapping, sexual thoughts, smut, unhealthy behavior. It's YOU, ya know what to expect.

A/N: My 1st YOU story! It had to be messed up smut. No specific season here.Please reblog and comment. Hope you guys like it!

You used to have a bird when you were younger.

A parrot. His bright colors seemed to speak under the sunlight when he landed next to you. His wing looked funny, what was later discovered to be broken. That small detail was the perfect excuse to convince you dad to keep the bird.

You named Jorge and took him home.

Jorge was so little, so helpless.

You never put him in a cage, even when your dad brought one because housebirds are meant to be caged, or so he said. — which wasn't much of a surprised. He thought the same about your mom or any housewives. Their cage was just different.

But, you didn't let him get his way. You stomped your feet and threw the prison away. Birds were supposed to be free.

Plus, you related to Jorge in that sense. Everyone, the whole planet seemed to believe that women should be put in cages, in boxes, in any place that could contain them, patronize them. Because the patriarchal cry babies thought that they were too savage, too emotional. A danger to society.

Those people never seem to notice that every single disaster was orchestrated by men's hands.

Colonization, religious intolerance, wars, pseudo prophets, and so it goes.

Anyway, you didn't let the tiny bird get caged, and asked him to promise to take you and fly you away if someone ever tried to do that to you.

It may seem childish, irrational even, but you can't help looking around and hoping Jorge would appear and save you from the cage.

Joe's cage.

Alright, yes. You had many feminist criticism towards how men attempted to force women into fitting their irralistic, many times porn guided caged vision of feminiality. But this wasn't what you mean by that!

Joe Goldberg had a fucking cage! And you were in there: trapped like a hopeless animal.

What did he plan to do with you? Were you going to die? How long would he leave you there without food or water? How were you going to do your basic needs? How would you survive this?

''How did I end up here?" you asked your reflection on the glass. ''You know how, idiot.''

You groaned, hitting the wall in frustration. It wasn't your fault, you knew it. The old cliché, wrong person at the wrong place during the wrong time, all the wrongs in the world wrapped in a pretty lace. Although, the guilty for not knowing better held you tight, it was like you couldn't even breathe.

You needed some relief.

Joe's POV

He sighed, unlocking the door with his free hand whilst holding your meal with the other one. Joe closed his eyes as the door opened with a loud noise, preparing himself to hear your scream and shout. He didn't want to do that! Not to you at least. Joe just wanted to take care of you, to make you see him how he saw you: entirely.

But really, what else could he have done? You saw him with blood on his shirt and a huge bag.

When the man didn't hear your voice, he opened her eyes and arched his eyebrows.

Maybe you understood why I had to do this, Y/N. Always knew you were different, my love.

Joe locked the door again and kept the keys in his pocket, taking the stairs to meet you.

Or, I could be wrong and you could've managed to get out of the cage and be just there, waiting to attack me. You're smart, I wouldn't put it past you.

The closer he gets, the quiet it sounds. The only music is the own stairs crackling under his steps.

But, you know me, Y/N. I'm a true hopeless romantic. What can I say? I still believe. I believe in us. And you'll too, baby.

And then, just like the first flicker of dawn, he heard the most beautiful song coming out of your mouth, a melody that could put Beethoven to shame.

Wait. Are you? Y/N, are you moaning?

He walked faster towards you until he saw a blissful scene unrolling right in front of his eyes: you, laying in the mattress that he put in there, your eyes shut and legs spread open.

Is this a little show you are putting out for me? Well, you got all my attention now, Y/N.

He placed the food on the floor, captivated by the look on your face. There was pleasure in every corner of the cage, your whiny moans increasing as you rubbed your clit.

This what happens when I leave you alone, Y/N?

Your other hands is also occupied, teasing your nipple and squeezing your boob as a finger enters your wet pussy. So needy, pace increasing at each second.

Fuck. You look so hot. I want to get in there, take care of you, touch you, make love to you.

Already used to living in delusion, Joe easily loses his mind in the fantasy: picturing himself in there with you, memorizing your body, fucking you open, hearing your moans directed to him, coming inside you.

You just needed a way to ease your racing mind. There were too many questions, too many deep high fears. Everything was too much in this small place. Similar to animals in cages that go crazy in attempts to get out there and run back to nature. You didn't want to go this far, not to touch you in here as it's a sort of motel and not a hostage situation. Still, masturbation was very proficient to blow off some esteem and get you thinking straight.

Extreme situations call for extrame measures.

Nonethless, you didn't expect to open your eyes to see Joe, also masturbating in front of you.

There's no denying that you that you used to find Joe attractive. Tall, strong jaw, pretty smile, gentle, and dark hair. You thought that this perspective had gone away once he knocked you out with some drug in napkin and you woke up here.

Apparently, it didn't. Not even when he left you there during hours because now he came back.

And he's glancing at you, his hand moving up and down on his erected length.

How long was he there?

Doesn't matter.

A moan escapes at the sight. His hard cock with precum on the tip, while he thrusts in his tight hold and glares at you like he could eat your soul.

You don't doubt that.

There's more than just excitement, there's horror and danger and woe and fear and anxiety laced together in burning red. You want to scream at him in both anger and need, but right now you add another finger to your core, fucking yourself as he tries to get his own liberation. Yearning, yearning.

When Joe howls your name, you can't help but to cum as you glance into his eyes with no shame, too caught up to do anything but to get turned on.

He comes right after you.

His twisted mind whispers that's the most romantic act.

[xjulixred45x]

About yuu!parent and Crowley, I can't stop my mind about some sounds from tiktok (from epic the musical)

And... It fit so much lol, let me just

Crowley: Did you know you talk in your sleep? Tell me, though who's (Husband/wife name)?

Yuu!parent (without thinking answering) : she's/he's my wife/husband

Then silence before crowley becomes crowley again and pretend didn't hear it. Meanwhile the first year and all yuus laughing on back, especially the yuu knowing their parents would never choose anyone else expect their partner even in different dimension

HAHAHAHAHA IT'S LITERALLY THEM

That's exactly what I was thinking when I wrote about how Yuu!Parent has Odysseus-level loyalty to their partner. No matter how hard the bird-head tries, they'll always prefer their beloved husband/wife.

The Yuus are quite protective of their mother/father for this very reason as well. They trust Yuu, but they don't particularly trust anyone at this school, especially Crowley, who seems to have taken a special interest in them since Yuu!Parent arrived. Occasionally, they see him trying to talk casually with Yuu in the hallways, or he uses one of the Yuus as an excuse when he actually ends up talking about something completely different, etc. And the Yuus DO NOT LIKE HIM AT ALL.

But they let their father/mother deal with Crowley (Yuu probably had to tell them not to do anything to avoid trouble). After all, they know Yuu!Parent, hell will freeze over before they cheat.

That audio sounds especially good after Book 2, when Yuu!Parent ends up in the infirmary with a blow to the head, and while their friends try to talk to them first, WILD CROWLEY APPEARS and tries to act confident and everything. But he just points out the sleep-talking, and everyone prepares for the funniest thing of the school year.

-"they're my partner, I'm married."

Total silence from Crowley, nonstop laughter from the first-years.

The first-years know this, the whole school knows it, except Crowley. And they act as a sort of squad to protect Yuu!Parent, both from people who want to take advantage of Yuu's non-Magical status or try to "interfere in their marriage," as the boys call it. Let's just say that since the boys see Yuu!Parent as a father/mother figure, they have a lot of respect for their partner, along with a similar esteem ("Dad should only be with Mom," sort of thing).

Jack is the most respectful in this regard and wants to know more about Yuu!Parent and their partner's relationship, as he sincerely finds it very worthy that Yuu!Parent is faithful to their partner despite not knowing if they'll return to their world, that they speaks of them with such affection and so directly rejects any advances (wolves are monogamous, so Jack fully understands why couples are so important).

Epel is the kind of guy who will go straight to the person bothering Yuu!Parent (Crowley), take Yuu's hand, and shove the other person's wedding ring in their face, without saying a single word about it. Epel LOVES Yuu!Parent because they lets him do everything Vil can't, hides him when Vil looks for him, and generally lets him be himself. Therefore, Epel doesn't tolerate anyone messing with Yuu!Parent or their partner (even if he dosen't know them either, they sound nice, SO HAVE MORE RESPECT, BIRDMAN!).

Ace is honestly the only one who doesn't understand at first why Yuu!Parent is so determined to be faithful to their partner, let's be honest. Especially when Crowley seems to put off their return home on purpose. But the more time he spends with Yuu!Parent and the more he sees the signs, the longing, the nostalgia, the good memories Yuu has with their partner, the more he understands. He definitely gets very creeped out whenever someone tries to flirt with Yuu, and he resorts to pretending Yuu is his dad/mom to scare the other person away. If that doesn't work, he'll just tell them straight up that they're talking to a VERY cute and VERY married person.

Deuce takes this VERY seriously, too seriously. Yuu!parent is like the father he never had, and the idea that Yuu's partner is waiting for them in their world (and they're also waiting to see them again) and that someone might try to take advantage of that angers him greatly, but he tries not to resort to violence. At least not physical violence. Deuce simply stands between the person and Yuu!parent, aggressively waving his arms while shouting that Yuu is happily married, not interested in being a cheating pig, among other things. He has spirit.

Sebek is like Deuce, but slightly worse and better. Sebek has definitely learned to be more tolerant of Yuu!Parent and absolutely LOVES it when they gives him typical parental compliments. You could say he respects them, and that respect extends to their partner and marriage in general. When someone tries to talk to Yuu!Parent romantically, Sebek will be all, "THEY'RE TOO OLD FOR YOU! AND THEY'RE MARRIED! GET AWAY FROM THE PARENT! THEY'RE MARRIED! THEY'RE TAKEN!" without taking a breath.

When Ortho joins, he expected different treatment for everything he did when Idia suffered His overblown, but he's so happy when Yuu!Parent treats him with the same parental affection! For this reason, Ortho isn't above threatening the birdman with violence if he continues to inconvenience the prefect with his attempts at courtship (if it were anyone else, Ortho would simply make annoying electronic noises or set off a fake alarm to make them go away).

Protecting the prefect is a team effort after all.

_______

(ESPAÑOL)

JAJAJAJAJA ES LITERALMENTE ELLOS

Justo era lo que pensaba cuando escribi el hecho de que Yuu!Parent tiene una fidelidad nivel Odiseo por su pareja, no importa cuanto lo intente el cabeza de pájaro, ellos siempre preferirán a su amado esposo/esposa.

Los Yuus son bastante protectores de su madre/padre por esto mismo tambien, ellos confían en Yuu, pero no confían particularmente en nadie en esta escuela, especialmente Crowley, que parece haber tomado un interés especial en ellos desde que Yuu!Parent llego a la escuela. De vez en cuando lo ven tratando de hablar casualmente con Yuu en los pasillos, o usa de excusa alguno de los Yuus cuando en realidad solo termina hablando de algo completamente diferente, etc. Y los Yuus NO LES GUSTA PARA NADA.

Pero dejan que su padre/madre lidie con Crowley (probablemente Yuu les tuvo que decir que no hicieran nada para evitar problemas). Después de todo, conocen a Yuu!Parent, el infierno se congelara antes de que ellos sean infieles.

Ese audio suena especialmente bien después del libro 2, cuando Yuu!Parent termina en la enfermería por un golpe en la cabeza, y si bien sus amigos/hijos tratan de hablarle primero, CROWLEY SALVAJE APARECE y trata de aparentar confianza y todo. Pero justamente señala lo de hablar dormido, y todos se preparan para lo mas gracioso del año escolar.

-“es mi pareja, estoy casado”-

Silencio total por parte de Crowley, risas sin parar por parte de los de primer año.

Los de primer año saben esto, toda la escuela lo sabe, excepto Crowley. Y actúan como una especie de escuadrón para proteger a Yuu!Parent, tanto de la gente que quiere aprovecharse de su estado no Mágico o tratar de “meterse en su matrimonio” como los chicos le dicen. Digamos que como los chicos ven a Yuu!Parent como una figura paterna/materna, entonces le tienen mucho respeto a su pareja junto a un estima similar(“papá solo debe estar con mamá” tipo de cosa).

Jack es el más respetuoso al respecto y quiere saber más sobre la relación de Yuu!parent y su pareja, ya que sinceramente encuentra muy digno que Yuu!Parent le sea fiel a su pareja pese a que no sabe si volverá a su mundo, que hable de ellos con tanto cariño y rechace tan directamente cualquier avance (los lobos son monógamos, por lo que Jack entiende perfectamente el porqué las parejas son tan importantes).

Epel es el tipo de chico que directamente ira a la persona que esta molestando a Yuu!Parent (Crowley), toma la mano de Yuu y le restriega en la cara el anillo de bodas a la otra persona, sin decir una sola palabra en todo esto. Epel ADORA a Yuu!Parent porque le permite hacer todo lo que Vil no, lo esconde cuando Vil lo busca, y en general le permite ser el mismo. Por lo que, Epel no tolera que se metan con Yuu!Parent o su pareja (aun si no los conoce, suenan agradables, ASI QUE TEN MAS RESPETO PAJARACO!).

Ace sinceramente es el único que al principio no entiende porque Yuu!Parent esta tan decidido en serle fiel a su pareja, seamos honestos. Mas cuando Crowley parece dejar de lado su regreso a casa apropósito. Pero mientras mas tiempo pasa con Yuu!Parent y mas ve las señales, el anehlo, la nostalgia, los buenos recuerdos que tiene Yuu con su pareja, mas lo entiende. Definitivamente tiene mucho cringe cada que alguien trata de coquetear con Yuu, y aplica la de fingir que Yuu es su papa/mama para espantar a la otra persona. Si eso no funciona, les dira directamente que están hablando con una persona MUY linda y MUY casada.

Deuce se lo toma MUY en serio, demasiado. Yuu!parent es como el padre que nunca tuvo, y la idea de que la pareja de Yuu lo esta esperando en su mundo (y el tambien espera volver a verles) y que alguien trate de aprovecharse de eso le enoja mucho, pero el trata de no recurrir a la violencia. Al menos no física. Deuce simplemente se pone entre la persona y Yuu!Parent, agitando agresivamente los brazos mientras grita que Yuu es alguien felizmente casado, que no esta interesado en ser un cerdo infiel, entre otras cosas. Tiene espíritu.

Sebek es como Deuce, pero ligeramente peor y mejor. Definitivamente Sebek aprendió a ser más tolerante con Yuu!Parent y absolutamente GOZA cuando le da cumplidos típicos de los padres, podrías decir que le respeta, y dicho respeto también se dirige a su pareja y matrimonio en general. Cuando alguien intenta hablarle a Yuu!Parent en plan romántico, Sebek se pondrá tipo “ES MUY MAYOR PARA TI! Y ESTA CASADO! ALEJATE DEL PADRE! ESTA CASADO! ESTA TOMADO!” todo sin respirar.

Cuando Ortho se une, el esperaba un trato diferente por todo lo que hizo cuando Idia sufrio su overblot, pero es tan feliz cuando Yuu!Parent lo trata con el mismo afecto parental! Por lo mismo, Ortho no está por encima de amenazar al hombre pájaro con violencia si este sigue incomodando al prefecto con sus intentos de cortejo (si fuera cualquier otra persona, Ortho simplemente hace ruidos electrónicos molestos o hace sonar una alarma falsa para que se vayan).

Proteger al prefecto es un trabajo en equipo después de todo.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[delicateperspective]

https://www.tumblr.com/delicateperspective/782767157576679424/hi-ive-noticed-theres-a-lot-of-debate-about?source=share

But isn’t it true that Sony sabotaged Louis’ career for a long time? That’s why people criticize Harry for being so close to Columbia/Sony and for staying with them, like he's just not working with them, they seem like friends (or at least that's what we see). Sorry, I just want to understand some of this better.

Hey anon, that’s a really good question!

I think a good place to start is by remembering that Louis Tomlinson is a complex human being, like anyone else. There’s the part of him that’s the scrappy, stubborn, working-class kid from Doncaster (the one who used to steal sandwiches and has always had a “fuck you, I do what I want” streak). But there’s also another side: the smart, strategic, deeply passionate artist who’s always loved music and performing and who understands the business better than people give him credit for.

And humans are allowed to be both. They can want freedom and still play the game. They can be pissed off by the industry and still choose to stay in it — because it’s the only way to do what they love.

It’s also really important to remember that what we see from the outside is rarely the full story. There are smiling photos of me with bosses I’ve had issues with. I’ve gone to events with them, hung out at their homes, and still had major frustrations under the surface. A job is a job (whether you’re someone like me, or someone like H). The difference? I could walk away from my job tomorrow and probably be fine. H couldn’t. Not without risking everything he’s worked for.

Also, H didn’t just randomly “choose” C*lumbia out of nowhere. 1D was signed to Syc* in the UK and C*lumbia in the US, which means that when the band went on hiatus, those companies likely had what’s called “first right of refusal.” That means that before an artist can sign with another label, the current label gets the chance to match or outbid that offer and keep them. So chances are, H had to stay with C*lumbia unless someone came in with a better offer — and clearly, C*lumbia was invested enough to make sure they kept him. In the same way, Syc* held onto Louis, and it seems they had very different plans for him.

2015/2016 Was Messy, Let’s not forget how chaotic that time was and all of the different gears that were spinning for all of them. Around then, S*ny execs (including R*b Str*nger) allegedly wanted both of them. (L to stay behind the scenes, writing songs while H became the face.) And at the time, that probably made sense to them — L was most proud of his songwriting credits in 1D more than anything else, and H had already been getting the solo star treatment.

But L didn’t do what was expected. He didn’t choose songwriting. He didn’t choose to manage acts under Sim*n. He chose to make his own music — and in doing so, he pissed off a lot of powerful people who expected him to play a different role. That’s when things started to get really difficult for him.

Now, whether or not R*b Str*nger (or anyone else at S*ny) actively sabotaged Louis — that’s something we may never fully know. But let’s say, hypothetically, he did. Should H have walked away from C*lumbia? (and lets be clear, he couldn't have until he gave them three albums - at least - and the contract could have also included what is called "options" which would mean he still might owe them more under the first contract. So, his first oppertunity to walk way would have JUST happened.)

Honestly? I don't think so. Harry snubbing R*b Str*nger publicly would be career suicide. Like it or not, Stringer is one of the most powerful people in the music industry. Ghosting him or switching labels in protest wouldn’t just hurt H — it could hurt L, too. Both H and L know how this system works. H staying close to C*lumbia/S*ny isn’t necessarily a betrayal. It’s playing the long game. It’s making sure he still has the platform and the power to make the kind of music and statements he wants to make.

TL;DR:

L is complex. He made a choice that went against what S*ny & Syc* wanted — and it made his road harder.

H’s connection to C*lumbia/S*ny isn’t just about loyalty — it’s about business, contracts, and survival in a cutthroat industry.

What we see (smiling photos, friendly interactions) doesn’t always reflect the full truth.

Criticizing H for staying with C*lumbia is easy from the outside, but the risks of leaving would have been far bigger than people realize.

Hope that helps clear some of it up, anon. If you want a deeper dive into L's journey and how it relates to R*b, I'd suggest these posts from @fookinhellcurlyyy.

[yumandoull]

could you pls do a fwb yuma fanfic pls 😖 were he sees you talking to a boy at a party and he gets jealous and drag you out of there forcefully and yk … BTW LOVE YOUR WORK ! 💕

I don't like the way he's looking at you, I'm starting to think you want him too (A Nakakita Yuma one-shot)

Warnings: fem!reader, ___ is used for reader's name, college house party setting at the start, mentioned Yang Jungwon from Enhypen (think blonde Jungwon at the Prada event for this 😻), other teamies mentioned, jealousy, mdni, slight fingering, pussy slapping (yes.), blowjob, masturbation? idkk?? (reader fingers herself), degradation (use of slut and whore), petnames (use of sweetheart and baby), missionary and cowgirl, groping, unprotected sex (don't!!), breeding and pregnancy kink?, slight(?) overstimulation, implied aftercare (was too lazy to write it but this is ALWAYS A DO), mention/talks on pregnancy. English is not my first language so expect typos/grammatical errors since this is also not proofread, let me know if I missed something!

Word count: 2,076

Message from the doll: Hiii >< I really should stop setting a date to when I'll post like saying I'll post tomorrow or something because I randomly lose motivation and it's so annoying like UGHHH anyway hope you guys enjoy!!

Plot: Nakakita Yuma as your friend with benefits, that's all that it was supposed to be. But what happens when he spots you being a little too close and touchy with that student council vice-president from a different school?

Teaser here

Music’s pulsing, the lights are low, the house is packed. Yuma is seated at a couch, surrounded by his friends and some girls trying to shoot their shots. It's already 10PM, an hour has passed since the party started and Yuma still haven't seen even a single strand of your hair. You did tell him that you were gonna come but still, you could've changed your mind at the last minute.

Just then, K took a seat next to Yuma while he was zoning out. “Waiting for your girl?” The younger heard and scoffed, “She's not ‘my girl’. No strings attached, we agreed to that.”

Nicholas reached out for his drink and took a sip before muttering, “You say that but proceed to rant to us when someone else approaches her.” Yuma's eyes narrowed and he immediately turned to Nicholas, “What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

It was now 10:30PM when Maki took a seat on the couch across Yuma. “Guess who I just spotted together at the dance floor.” Maki started, a little breathless from dancing. “Who?” Harua, who has been at their table the entire time and having snacks because he was just dragged to come, asked.

“Yang Jungwon, that model student from Decelis and guess who he's with..” Maki took a sip of some drink and continued to keep his friends guessing, for the plot. “Maki, just get straight to the point. No one is enjoying this, dude.” Nicholas huffed.

Maki rolled his eyes, “Fine, jeez. Jungwon is with ___, on the dance floor, getting hands on with each other if y'all catch my drift.”

“Bro, no way.” Fuma gasped slightly.

“Seriously? That guy? Here? At a party?” EJ kept questioning, it was rare for Jungwon to be seen at a party. “With ___, no less. The two of them refuse to drink and now they're here? Together?”

“I'm serious, dudes! Look at them right there.” Yuma followed to where Maki was pointing at there you were, dressed in something so deliciously sinful. Your dress sparkled underneath the dim lights, your hair was still perfectly styled. Jungwon was behind you, his hands on your waist as your hips swayed to the beat of the music. You had no care in the world with a cup in hand, cheeks flushed from the drinks you had.

“Never in my life would I have thought of seeing those two, together like that, in a place like this.” Jo muttered out, still eyeing you and Jungwon. “It's like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs..” Harua added in.

Yuma felt something tug at his chest. Why was he feeling this? Why was he affected? He goes around with other girls when you're not available, he just did that last night. So why is he not liking the sight of someone else being close to you? Without even thinking, Yuma suddenly took his phone out of his pocket to message you.

You could feel your phone going off in your purse but you didn't even care. Your mind was in daze from the drinks, a guy who is cute but hot at the same time is literally all over you right now, that phone is getting ignored for the night.

Yuma's jaw tightens as he watches you from the couch, seeing you ignore his texts and start to get more and more touchy with Jungwon. He then suddenly found himself getting up from his seat, ignoring his friends asking where he was going. Without hesitation, he took your wrist and pulled you away from Jungwon. “You're getting too close.” He stated.

Jungwon backed off a little, raising his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry. Didn't know she was taken. Yuma, right? Nightball athlete?” Yuma didn't respond for a moment, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. “That's none of your business.” Jungwon chuckled with a strained smile, “Alright alright, I'll back off.”

Once Jungwon was out of sight, Yuma dragged you away from the dance floor to a more secluded hallway in the house. “What the hell, ___? What were you doing with him?” Yuma pinned you against the wall, his hands on either side of you to cage you in. “What the- What was that for?” You tried to push him back a little but it was no use. “You were ignoring me, I kept messaging you.” Yuma's face was now inches from yours, you could smell his cologne mixed with the smell of alcohol. “Because I was having fun!” You crossed your arms and turned away, ignoring the heat forming in your lower stomach from the tension between the two of you.

“And now you're in for a long night.”

Yuma dragged you out of that party to his car outside and drove back to his place. He didn't even bother parking the car properly and immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and yours, pulling you out of the passenger seat. He opened the front door and not even a minute inside, your back was against the door with Yuma's lips crashing yours in a hard, messy, possessive kiss. You could hear the front door lock click as Yuma's kisses trailed down your jaw as usual but it wasn't the soft and gentle kisses from before, it was filled with pent-up feelings and jealousy. “You look fucking beautiful in this dress, baby..” He mumbled against your neck, “It's a shame that I'll rip it off though but, not really because I get to see you again. Every part of you.”

Yuma pushes you away from the door, leading you backwards while having his lips on yours until the back of your legs hit his bed. He pushes you on your back, hovering above you. “I bet you're already dripping, hm?” You felt Yuma’s hands trail down from your waist to your thighs and without warning, he pushed the soaked fabric of your panties and ran two fingers up your slit, earning a gasp from you. “I was right, aren't you a little slut?” Yuma pulled his fingers away, teasing you with his fingers. “Did you get wet because of me…or because of Jungwon?” Yuma's eyes narrowed when you didn't answer and he suddenly landed a harsh slap on your pussy. “Answer my question, baby.”

“You..! It's because of you..” You let out a pathetic sounding whine, getting pretty desperate but Yuma is really making sure that you are in for a long night. “Yuma, please..” He hummed in response as he continued to tease you, “Work for it.”

You were confused and didn't fully register Yuma's words when he lifts you up to all-fours above him and he unzips his jeans, pushing them down with his underwear. “You know what to do, slut.” Yuma's fingers carded through your hair, watching you take his length in your mouth. A low, almost a growl, sound vibrated from his chest as you started to bob your head up and down slowly. “You're doing great, baby. Such a good whore for me..”

“Touch yourself while you're blowing me.” Yuma looked at your eyes dart up to him when those words left his lips, “What, didn't hear me? I said touch yourself while you're blowing me. If you make yourself come while your lips are wrapped around me, maybe I'll go a little easier tonight.” Yuma watched as your fingers trailing down from your chest, to your belly, to your dripping pussy. His eyes locked as you easily inserted two fingers inside yourself, your moans muffled on his cock. The squelchy sounds of your fingers going in and out of your pussy, the occasional gagging sounds from you, and Yuma's groans filled the room. “God, I'm too impatient for this..” Was all you heard when Yuma suddenly pulled you away from his length and pinning you back down on the bed.

He hurriedly slid your panties down your legs, tossing them somewhere on the floor with your dress and bra following after. Yuma spat on his hand before rubbing hard and fast circles on your swollen clit, earning short gasps and whimpers from you. “You like that, baby? Look at you, all red and puffy down here.” His other hand grips on your waist, making sure you can't get away. Yuma comes back up to hover above you, his arms on either side of your head, caging you on the bed. Without waiting another moment, Yuma enters you in one thrust. “Still so warm and tight, it's like you're made for me.” His mouth found your neck, littering open-mouthed kisses and bites. Yuma starts slow, letting you adjust but also to tease.

You whimpered, pushing your hips against Yuma's. You heard him chuckle in an almost mocking manner, “Someone's needy, hm?” Yuma lifts both your legs, placing them on his shoulders before starting to pound into you. “This is what you need, right?” He groans, hands tight around your hips, pulling them in time to meet his thrusts. “So pretty…look at your boobs bouncing while I fuck you.” One of Yuma's hands leave your hips to roughly grope and squeeze your tits, adding another layer of pleasure for you. Yuma took both your legs and pushed forward, almost completely folding you in half.

“Yuma-! R-right there! Please..” Your grip on the sheets became tighter, your hands pulling and twisting them next to you. “I know where you like it, baby. No need to tell me.” He starts hitting deeper and with more force, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart. With your moans filling the room, it didn't take long for Yuma to feel close to the edge. “I'm close, can I cum inside? Bet you would love that, slut.” You nodded almost immediately, also feeling the familiar intense feeling on your lower abdomen. “Mhm! Please, I need it.” Yuma leans down to bite near your collarbone, leaving a mark that is a bit difficult to hide. “Want me to knock you up? You'll attend your classes with a round belly? You'd still be the prettiest girl in the room.” He was puffing and huffing above you as he chased his release, you heard Yuma groan as he released a ton of his thick and sticky load inside of you, triggering your own orgasm. Yuma lets go of your legs, laying them flat back on the bed and letting you breathe for a few moments. “Done catching your breath, sweetheart? Because I'm not done.”

“Wait what?” You were suddenly flipped over, now straddling Yuma. He tsked, watching his cum drip down your pussy. “Can't even keep them inside you..” He teased and added, “I'll fix that.” Yuma stated before lifting your hips and sitting you down on his cock. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, you let out a weak whimper. “I can't anymore..”

“Yes, you can.” Yuma immediately replied, already lifting your hips up and down to meet with his upward thrusts. His pace became faster and rougher, earning some broken pleads and whines from you. You eventually collapsed against Yuma, head resting on his chest with your arms wrapped weakly around him. “Aww, poor slut can't take it.” He chuckled but despite slowing down, his pace became more intense. Your brain turned to mush, moans spilling out of your mouth. “Yuma- s'too much..” Yuma shushed you, his hand coming to stroke your hair as he continued to fuck his cum back inside your pussy. It didn't take long before Yuma released another load inside you, his head falling back against the pillows.

After cleaning around the room and taking a bath, you laid silently in bed next to Yuma. The silence was tense, the two of you not sure of what to say before Yuma finally broke the silence. “Sorry for…uhm, I guess I'm the one getting my emotions involved here.” He admitted. The thought of you with someone else earlier that night was still bothering him, it definitely wasn't the alcohol anymore. “It's okay, I am too.” You confessed as well.

Yuma immediately looked at you, shifting to his side to face you. “Seriously? Is that why you were asking who was the girl I was with?” He questioned and you replied with a nod. Yuma smiled, a warm smile. “You should read for now, we'll talk about our feelings tomorrow.”

“And the fact that you came inside me two times?”

“It's not like I'm gonna leave you! I have been told that I am great with children, baby.”

Note from the doll: hope y'all got the mean girls reference ANYWAY awaken the bloodline is starting in three days omg congrats to everyone who will be able to attend suppressing tears. PLEASE THEY DON'T EVEN HAVE A STOP IN MY COUNTRY AND I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN AFFORD A TICKET TO ATTEND LET ALONE A FLIGHT SOMEWHERE??? 😿

[mint-moon25]

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

AS - GIRLS - ARE - USUALLY

THEIR - ONLY - FANS

I - THINK - ABOUT - MERCHANDISE

SERIOUSLY - NO - KOREAN - K POP

HAS - $1.27 BILLION - DAILY

OR NETWORTH $1.9 TRILLION USD

THEY - HAVE - EXPENSIVE - ITEMS

AMERICAN - GIRL - BRUNETTE

WHO - HAS - BLOND - HIGHLIGHTS

LAPTOP - SHE - WAS - SMILING AT

PERSON - SHE - TALKED - TO

NO ONE - HERE - GOT - THAT SMILE

THAT's - A - NATION

NO ONE - SMILES - AT - YOU

KOREAN - MOM - AND SON

WOULD - HAVE - DIED - OF

ACUTE - HUNGER A - LONG

TIME - AGO - AND - DRUGGED

WITH - DEPAKOTE

THIS - NATION - MIGHT - HAVE

SOLD - WITHOUT - CONSENT

THEIR - KIDNEYS - AND BLADDERS

AMERICAN - SMILES - ONLY GOES

2 - WHO - THEY - SHOW - THEIR

NUDITY - 2

WHO - THEY - MARRY

UNTIL - THEY - HAVE - SIDE KICKS

AS - THEY - COMMIT - ADULTERY

3 GUYS - 2 - THE - SIDES

AS - MARRIED - CHURCH - GOERS

HUSBAND - FINDS - OUT

SHOOTS - HER - 2 - DEATH

ARRESTED - LIFE - PRISON

THAT - IS - THE - UNITED STATES

WHO - THEY - SMILE - AT

WHO - THEY - GO - ALL - THE WAY

WITH - WHY - I - LOVE - EUROPE

THE - MOST - AND - FRANCE AND

THEIR - CHILDREN - NO 1 - TO ME

DEAR - PINK LOVIES,

COMING - FR - A - COUNTRY - WHO

ARE - VERY - FRIENDLY - YOU'RE

GREATFUL - YOU'RE - ALIVE - AS

YOU - SEE - WHAT's - OUT - THERE

WE'RE - 175 DEGREES - VOLCANIC

MOISTURE - HEAT

AS - THEY - SMILE - ALL THE TIME

EUROPEAN - SMALL - COUNTRIES

BEST - PLACE - 2 B - SNOW - AND

COLD - RELIEF - BUT - NEW

FAMILIES - 2 - OUR - LIVES

HOW - ORGANIZED - THEY

ARE - HOW - THEY'VE - SOLVED

MANY - THINGS ...

Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles is known for its high prices, as reported by The Los Angeles Times. While it's not specifically mentioned how much it charges for twins born in Manhattan, it is possible to estimate the cost by considering the typical pricing for a single delivery and the additional services needed for a twin birth. 

Here's a breakdown:

Standard Maternity Suites:Cedars-Sinai offers various levels of maternity suites, some of which may include full-sized tubs, recessed lighting, and soft colors. A two-room suite with one bath can be had for $2,847 a day. 

Twin Delivery:Twin deliveries often require additional services like specialized monitoring for both babies, potentially longer hospital stays, and possibly a higher likelihood of complications or interventions. These factors could increase the overall cost of the delivery. 

Estimated Cost:While a precise cost for a twin delivery at Cedars-Sinai in Manhattan is difficult to determine, it's reasonable to expect that the cost would be higher than a single delivery due to the added services and potential complications. 

To get a more accurate estimate, you'd need to contact Cedars-Sinai directly for a price quote, as it is a Los Angeles hospital. 

CEDAR SINAI - LOS ANGELES - NEW YORK

AT - LEAST

$2,847 DAILY - FOR - REGULAR

ESTIMATE

$5,000 - DAILY - 2 B - PREPARED

AS - AGE 18 - KNOCKED - UP

SHE - WAS - ILLEGALLY - DRUNK

SO EXPENSIVE BEING PREGNANT

MONTHLY - CHECKS

HARD - PLACE - 2 BE

LEGAL - PERMIT

MAGIC - KINGDOM

MEDICAL - CENTER

FREE - BABY - DELIVERY

FREE - DENTAL

FREE - SURGERY

ALL - AGES - SEPARATED BY AGES

FREE - MEDICAL - CHECKS

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

14TH - AMENDMENT

NO - US STATE - CAN - CREATE - OR

MAKE - LAWS

ONLY - LAWS - CONSTITUTION AND

THE - AMENDMENTS

NO - US STATE - OR - RESIDENTS OR

POLITICIANS - CAN - DEPRIVE - A

PERSON - OF - PROPERTY

GUESS ?

PRESIDENT - DONALD TRUMP

REPUBLICAN - THINKING - OF

BANNING - BARBIE - AS - DOLL ?

HER - BREASTS - 2 - HUGE ?

BUT - HUSTLER - MAGAZINE

GIRL - KISSING - GIRL - ON

COVER - BUTTOCK - SHOWING

PLAYBOY - MAGAZINE

CONTINUES ?

Mattel has a significant presence in Asia, with Barbie dolls being popular in many countries. 

The company has produced various Asian-themed Barbie dolls, such as "Dolls of the World" series featuring dolls from different Asian countries like Japan, China, and Korea. 

Some Asian countries have their own Barbie lines, like Licca-chan in Japan. 

Barbie has also collaborated with Asian toy companies, like Takara and Bandai. 

Barbie dolls are also popular in Europe, with a wide range of dolls available. 

BarbiePedia notes that Mattel has licensed Barbie production to companies in Europe, including Spain, Germany, and Portugal. 

Some European countries have their own exclusive Barbie dolls, such as the Steffie Standard EU Barbie Doll. 

There are also many Barbie collectors in Europe who actively seek out rare and collectible dolls. 

Dolls of the World: Mattel's series of dolls that represent different countries and cultures. 

Celebrity and Designer Collaborations: Barbie has partnered with various celebrities and designers to create unique dolls, some of which have been released in specific regions. 

Cultural and Historical Themes: Barbie has also released dolls that celebrate cultural events or historical periods, such as Lunar New Year Barbies or Barbies inspired by fashion icons. 

Tracing the history of “Asian” Barbie - Kelly KasulisFeb 1, 2016 — In total, Mattel created 17 “Dolls of the World” Barbies between 1981 and 2012. The 1990s recreated some of these Barbi...Kelly Kasulis

Visual guide to Asian Barbie : r/DollsOfAsia - RedditJan 10, 2024 — I want to take a quick moment to mention that Barbie has created and worked directly with other Asian brands to make d...Reddit

Barbie: Dolls of the World - We-R-Toys* Barbie Dolls of the World France 2012 Mattel X8420. ... * Italian Barbie Doll 1979 Mattel 1602. ... * Barbie Modern Filipina Do...We-R-Toys

US PRES TRUMP - SAID - IF - MATTEL, INC.

DOESN'T - MANUFACTURE - THEIR DOLLS

IN - THE - USA

TAXES - 100%

BUT - COMPANY - SAYS - 2 - MAKE

DOLLS - IN - USA - COSTS - 2 HIGH

4 - AMERICAN BUYERS

MY - REPLY - CORRECT

Sixteenth Amendment Income Tax

The Congress shall have power to lay and collect taxes on incomes, from whatever source derived, without apportionment among the several States, and without regard to any census or enumeration.

WHY - DOES - REPUBLICAN - PRES

CAN - TAX - MATTEL - 100% ?

HE - HAS - 2 - ASK - CONGRESS

2 - LAY - AND - COLLECT - TAX

ON - MATTEL, INC.

BUT - 100% ?

Eighth Amendment

Eighth Amendment Explained

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.

RUSSIAN - FEDERATION - USED TO

HAVE - 100% - TAXES

100% - TAXES - ON - MATTEL, INC. ?

'cruel and unusual punishments inflicted'

BY - CONGRESS - MAJORITY - RULING

REPUBLICAN - PARTY

DEMOCRATIC - PARTY

THAT - IS - WHY

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

MONARCHY

NO - GOVERNMENT

TAX - CRIME - SMOKE - FREE

NO - MORE - POLITICIANS

JUST - DELEGATION OF

POWER

EQUALITY

MALE - AND - FEMALE - 2

FILL - UP - VOTED - OFFICES

ONLY - FEMALE

ONLY - MALE

OFFICE - WILL - REMAIN OPEN

PRIME MINISTERS

SECRETARIES

TREASURERS

LIEUTENANT - COMMANDERS

2ND - LIEUTENANTS

APP - FREE - VOTING - 24/7

ALL - PAID - 2 - VOTE

ALL - AGES ....

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

BIBLE - NATIONS - WILL - NEVER

GET - WHAT - THEY - WANT

BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

ROWOON - 6'3 FT

EUN WOO CHA - 6 FT

REN - NCT - DREAM - 5'8 FT

I FORGOT - HIS - HEIGHT

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

AESPA - ITZY - RED VELVET

BARBIE - DOLLS

BOYS - ABOVE - AS - DOLLS

DOLLS - FOR - 19 AND OLDER

DOLLS - FOR - BABIES

DOLLS - FOR - 12 & YOUNGER

DOLLS - FOR - 13 AND 14

DOLLS - FOR - 15 AND 16

DOLLS - FOR - 17 AND 18

MIFFY - EUROPE - DOING

SO - WELL

I - THINK - LESS - IMMORALITY

LESS - STRANGERS - ALL - THE

WAY - IF - KOREA - JAPAN - AND

TAX FREE - HONG KONG ISLAND

CHINA - SINGAPORE

LESS - IMMORALITY

IF - GIRLS - CAN - HAVE - DOLLS

LIKE - THE - ABOVE

KOREAN - CHINESE - MALE STARS

WE - SELL - THE - CLOTHES

WE'RE - SELLING - HUGE VERSION

2 - PUT - MAKE UP - ON - THEM

OUR - TOKYO - MALE SCIENTISTS

WILL - GET - LEGAL - PERMISSION

LOVE ALWAYS, LLC.

NON-CONTRACT - AGENCY - FOR

LOCAL - INTERNATIONAL - STARS

GBC - FILMS - TV - RADIO STUDIOS

GBC - ENTERTAINMENT

FAMILY - SINGLES - KIDS

GBC - FAMILY

GBC - MERCHANDISE

WE'RE - GETTING - LEGAL - PERMIT

2 - SELL - RIGHT - SIZES

2 - SELL - DOLLS

31 KOREAN - STARS - WHO - KILLED

THEMSELVES ...

LEGAL - PERMIT

THEY - ALL - BELIEVED - IN

SOMETHING ...

LIKE - SAVE - THE - BABY - WHALES

MONEY - GENERATED

LEGAL - PERMIT

SEOUL - LAWYERS

LAW - MAKERS ...

KOREAN - INTERNATIONAL - JAPAN

LAWS - 2 - PROTECT - FAMILIES

PROTECTING - GIRLS - SINGLES

PROTECTING - KIDS

PROTECTING - HOUSEHOLDS

DOLLS - THEY - CAN - HOLD

ALL - OF - A - SUDDEN

HOUSEHOLD - BECOMES LIKE

A - FORT - 2 - DEFEND - AND

PROTECT - OUR - HIGH FORTRESS

PROTECT - OUR - HOMES ...

OUR - BEAUTIFUL - GBC - FILMS

TV - EPISODES

ALL - STARS - WILL - BECOME

THE - MOST - BEAUTIFUL DOLLS

WHO - FANS - CAN - HOLD - IN

THEIR - HANDS

DOLLS - ALSO - U - CAN - PUT

MAKE - UP - LIPSTICK - ON

IMPROVE - THEIR - LOOKS

DRESS - THEM - UP

WILL - DEVELOP - YOUR TALENTS

WHAT - EDUCATION - THEY - WILL

PURSUE - IN - THE - FUTURE

THE - MAKE UP - ARTISTS - OF

KOREAN - STARS

ARE - GIRLS ?

YET - THEY'RE - NOT - ALLOWED

2 - DATE ? NOT - ALLOWED

MARRIAGE ?

DOES - BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

IS - HE - NOT - ALLOWED - DATING ?

NOT - ALLOWED - 2 - MARRY ?

DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

STARTING - IN - PARIS - FRANCE

PAG-IBIG - MAGAZINES

PAG-IBIG - NUDITY - GIRLS ONLY

INTRODUCING

NUDE - LIFESTYLE

BIBLE - VERSES

INTRODUCING

DIY - WOMEN

WONDER - WOMEN

BOND - WOMEN

INTRODUCING

INTERNATIONAL - SPY - SCHOOLS

INTERNATIONAL - SPY - COLLEGES

SINCE - KOREAN - STAR

BYEON WOO SEOK - 6'3 FT

CONTRACTED - AND NOT ALLOWED

MARRIAGE ?

IN - PURSUIT - OF - KOREAN - WON ?

PAG-IBIG - TV - STUDIOS

WE'RE - SELLING - FRIED - CHICKEN

BEEF - AND - RAMEN - NOODLES

STEAK - AND - LOBSTERS

TOPLESS - FULL - NUDITY

PAG-IBIG - CHANNEL

HOW - IT - WORKS

900 BILLION - EUROS - X - 500

EVERY - 15 MINUTES

WE - DELETE - 24 HRS - IF YOU

CHANGE - YOUR - MIND

WITH - MASK - OR - WITHOUT

TOPLESS - OR - FULL NUDITY

WEARING - JEWELRY

FAUX - FUR

THIGHS - LINGERIE

PERFUME

COUTURE - HIGH HEELS

BODY - JEWELS - GLUED

FILMING - IN - EUROPE - ALSO

SELLING - FRIED - CHICKEN

TV - ADS

SHE'S - SINGING - A - SONG

TAKING - A - SHOWER

BUT - U C - HER - NUDITY

NICE - LARGE - MIRROR

WE'RE - ONLY SHOWCASING

BEAUTIFUL - WOMEN - ONLY

DRINKING - AGE

RELIGIOUS - ENTRY

TONGUES ONLY

SINGERS - ONLY

SHE'S - NOW - TOPLESS

PUTTING - MAKE UP ON

WHILE - ON - SOFA

SHE'S - SAYING

75% - OFF

TODAY

11P - 12P - PARIS

2P - 3P - PARIS

5P - 6P - PARIS

8P - 9P - PARIS

INCLUDES - PROMOTIONS

FREE - DELIVERY

ORDER - BY - APP - ONLY 2

75% - FRIED - CHICKEN

CODE - 123

SHE - SAYS - THIS - TOPLESS

AS - SHE - PUTS - ROBE

2 - GET - HER - PIZZA - WHAT

THEIR - DELIVERY - PERSON

LOOKS - LIKE - IN - PARIS FR

SINCE - BYEON WOO SEOK

KOREAN - NOT - ALLOWED

MARRIAGE - I'M - USING THIS

TIME - 2 - DO - WHAT - I WANT

2 - DO - WITH - MY - BODY

STARTING - MAGAZINE - EMPIRE

IN - PARIS - FRANCE

WHERE - U - CAN'T - BE - FIRED

FROM - WORK

BEING - KOREAN - STAR

CONTRACTED - LIFE - THAT

COST - 31 KOREAN's - LIVES

NO - CHANGES - MADE

SO - WE - MAKE - THE - CHANGE

'PINK - LOVE'

YOU'RE - BE - ABLE - 2 - VIEW

ME - ONLINE - FIRST

WORKING - WITH

DREAM FM - RADIO

PHILIPPINE - REPUBLIC

PARIS - FRANCE

SINGING - LIVE - PER - HOUR

GBC - FILMS - RADIO - ALSO

WILL - HAVE - TINIEST - CDs

EXCLUSIVELY - FROM SONY

YOU - CAN - BUY - MY MUSIC

ONLINE - BECAUSE - I'M - A

NUDE - MODEL

HOPE - THEY - ALLOW - ME 2

DO - CONCERTS - IN - ASIA 2

PAG-IBIG - MAGAZINES

BLURAY - TV - ADS

SMALLEST - SIZES

EXCLUSIVE - BY - SONY

AUTO - REPEAT

WON'T - BE - ABLE - 2 B

BROUGHT - OUT - OF - FRANCE

MAGAZINES - ALSO CAN'T

LEAVE - FRANCE - 4 - ANY

REASON

EUROPE - HAS - HUGE - NUDITY

SO - WE'RE - SAFER - THERE

900 BILLION - EUROS - X - 500

TAX - PAID - PER - 15 MINUTES

I - WANT - 2 - DO - IT

SINCE - NO ONE - WANTS - ME

BUT - OLD - WRINKLED

HISPANICS - AND BLKS

THEY - STALK - ME

BLK - AMERICAN - WOMEN

LESBIANS - STALK - ME SO

MOVING - ALSO - 2 - PARIS

FRENCH - POLICE

PROTECT - ASIAN WOMEN

FR - BLKS & HISPANICS - 2

FINISHING - MY EDUCATION

UNIVERSITY - OF - PARIS

PAINTER

LE CORDON BLEU

COOKING - BAKING

PRIVATE - TUTORSHIP

COUTURE & FASHION DESIGN

ARCHITECTURE

ELECTRIC - LICENSING

SO - I'M - STARTING - WITH

LITTLE PARIS - REPLACING

LITTLE HAVANA

STARTING - IN - PARIS - FR

SINCE - KOREAN - MALE

STARS - ARE - CONTRACTED

NOT - 1 KOREAN MALE STAR

HAS - PROTESTED

2 YRS - MILITARY - SERVICE

AWAY - FR - WOMEN - AND

THEIR - WIVES - & - FAMILY

NAKED - SHOWERS

BROTHERHOOD - OF - MEN

KOREAN MEN - USUALLY

ARE - EXTREMELY - GAY

FOR - MORE - THAN

1 MILLION - YEARS

THEIR - CROWN - PRINCE

ALWAYS - WITH - MALES 2

SO - DEAR - PINK - LOVIES,

WANTED - 2 - SHARE - MY

FUTURE

KOREAN - MALE - STARS

CONTRACTED - ARE NOT

ALLOWED - 2 - MARRY

IN - PURSUIT - OF WON

JESUS - IS - LORD

BIBLE - 'WHAT - GOD - HAS

JOINED TOGETHER LET NO

MAN - SEPARATE'

SEPARATED - BY - KOREAN

LAWS - GOVERNMENT - BY

CONTRACTS - BY PARENTS

KOREANS - AGE OF - CONSENT

ALLOWED - IMMORAL

PENETRATION - BREASTS YES

TOUCHED - THIGHS - OPEN - 2

NOT - ALLOWED - ABORTION

BUT - KOREANS - ARE - OLD

WHEN - THEY - MARRY

WHEN - THEY - PRODUCE

THEIR - BABIES

VERY - PAINFUL

YOUNGER - IS - MORE BLESSED

JESUS - CHRIST - IS - LORD - KR

THANKS - PINK - LOVIES

ME - 'PINK - LOVE'

2 - HAVE - MY - DOLLS

MALES FANS - PINK LOVES

FREE - MEMBERSHIP

RELIGIOUS - ENTRY

SPEAK - TONGUES

500 BILLION - WON

SING - TONGUES

500 BILLION - WON

TAX - PAID

2 - HAVE - MY - DOLLS

CLICK - RIGHT - REASON

2 - HAVE - ME - AS DOLL

PINK - LOVIES

EXCLUSIVE - WITH - OUR

FREE - MEMBERSHIP

ME - AS - DOLLS

VARIOUS - SIZES

MALES - PINK - LOVES

CLICK - REASON - WHY

U - WANT - MY - DOLLS

EXCLUSIVE - WITH

MEMBERSHIP - FREE

MY - DOLLS IN FUTURE

Giselle ♡ Supernova MBC Gayo 250130

[xoxorealitygalore]

Look What You Did 9

Jey Uso x Black OC

Summary: After meeting Joshua, Jalisa embarks on an emotional journey, navigating the vulnerability and joy of an unexpected connection.

Tag: @theusotwinzcom @baybehkay @purplementalitybluebird

The Florida sun filtered softly through the gauzy curtains in Jalisa’s living room, casting golden streaks over the cozy chaos that came with family. It was a Sunday. A lazy, loud, full of love day, and the twins, Jariana and Jaquala, were two months old to the day. That morning, their gurgling and cooing had been the unofficial wake-up call, pulling everyone into the heart of the house like gravity.

Joshua’s brothers, Jon and Sefa, had arrived not long after breakfast, their arms loaded with gifts and grocery bags. Their wives, Trinity and Almia, came shortly after with their children in tow, adding more laughter and footprints to the already buzzing household. Kisses were exchanged, compliments given, and the twins were passed from one auntie to the next like a treasure. It was obvious the spotlight shone squarely on the twins today.

Jalisa had grown used to the sound of family, to the way Jon and Sefa walked in like they belonged and they did. She hadn’t expected to grow so close to Joshua’s brothers after everything, but they showed up in the kind of way people always promised they would but rarely did. No pressure. No judgment. Just presence. They never once tried to pry into her feelings about Joshua. If anything, they became her safe place.

“Uncle Jon, can I color your tattoos?” Mariah asked, her voice honey-sweet and full of curiosity. She stood next to him on the couch, clutching a pack of washable markers in both hands, eyes wide with hope.

Jon looked down at her, his tough exterior softening instantly. Mariah tilted her head to the side and gave him the smile, the one that had melted many hearts before his. “Go ahead,” he replied, stretching out his arm like a canvas.

Sefa shook his head from the armchair, a smile playing at his lips. “You just gonna let her do that?”

“Girl’s an artist,” Jon shrugged. “I trust her.”

Mariah beamed. “Okay! After I’m done with you, I’m doing Uncle Sefa too!”

Sefa laughed. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope,” Mariah chirped as she popped the cap off a pink marker.

In the kitchen, Jalisa stirred the seasoned rice while Trinity stood nearby, swaying side to side with little Jaquala nestled against her chest in a soft wrap. Trinity’s voice was gentle, almost reverent as she looked down at the baby girl.

“I can’t wait to have a little one like you,” she whispered. Her smile was wistful, layered with longing and cautious hope.

Jalisa glanced over, catching the vulnerable look on Trinity’s face. Trinity rarely let her guard down, always so energetic, always moving. But this was different. Raw. Real.

“You thinking about trying soon?” Jalisa asked softly, keeping her voice low as not to interrupt the sweet moment.

Trinity nodded, then sighed. “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about stepping away from WWE. My body’s been sending signals, you know? And I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but the timing never felt right. Now I’m not sure if I’m late or just on time in my own way.”

Jalisa leaned against the counter. “Let me tell you something, Trin. I used to think it was crazy to have babies past a certain age. Thought I was done after my thirties. But here I am, mid-forties, rocking newborns and somehow more patient than I’ve ever been. When it’s your time, it’s your time. Just go for it.”

Trinity’s eyes glistened. “You make it look possible. That’s why I talk to you about this stuff. You’ve been through it all and you still smile.”

“Sometimes through tears, but yeah,” Jalisa said, laughing. “Still smiling.”

Almia joined them at the stove, grabbing a wooden spoon and giving the collard greens a gentle stir. “The secret to motherhood at any age is a little help and a whole lot of wine.”

The women laughed together, the kind of laughter that felt sacred, like it had been earned through shared understanding and miles walked in similar shoes.

Back in the living room, Mariah was still coloring tattoos when she looked up at Jon with wide eyes. “Can Jayla sleep over?”

Jon raised a brow. “What you and Jayla about to do?”

“She’s gonna do my hair and read me stories,” Mariah said proudly.

Jon chuckled. “Ask your momma if it’s okay.”

Mariah skipped off like a butterfly, bounding into the kitchen. “Mommy, can Jayla sleep over?”

Jalisa looked over her shoulder. “Now what y’all about to do at this sleepover?”

Mariah placed both hands on her hips like a tiny adult. “Girl stuff, you know.”

Jalisa smirked. “Okay, Jayla can sleep over, but you better behave.”

“I always do,” Mariah said, skipping away again, victorious.

“She and Jayla act like they can’t live without each other,” Trinity noted.

“Jayla don’t play about her mini me,” Almia added.

“And Mariah don’t play about her ‘big me’ that’s what she calls Jayla,” Jalisa said.

The three women doubled over with laughter.

The scent of garlic and chicken filled the air. Dinner was nearly ready, and Jalisa was pulling trays of cornbread from the oven when Trinity brought up something unexpected.

“Okay, so… the triplets want to do a joint 40th birthday party.”

Jalisa raised a brow. The triplets being Joshua, Jon, and Joe as they were born the same year and are super close.

“And I would plan it, but you know I’m on the road,” Trinity said, setting Jaquala down into a nearby bouncer.

“Yeah, me too,” Almia said, raising her hands in surrender.

The two women looked directly at Jalisa. She blinked. “Oh, no. Y’all not about to drop this in my lap.”

“Come on, Jali,” Trinity pleaded. “You’re good at this stuff. You throw the best parties.”

Jalisa sighed. “Don’t you think this will have Joshua thinking he’s getting another chance?”

“Nope,” Almia said, popping a grape into her mouth. “This isn’t just for Joshua. It’s for all three of them.”

“And if he thinks planning a birthday party means y’all are gonna be a couple again,” Trinity added, “then he’s slower than I thought.”

Jalisa tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll do it. But y’all gotta help with the guest list.”

“What guest list?” Trinity snorted. “This party is going to spread via word of mouth.”

“Every single relative of theirs will show up and show out without an invite,” Almia agreed.

“Okay, fine. Are we doing this on the twins’ actual birthday or just picking a random date?” Jalisa asked.

“Definitely a random date,” Trinity said.

“Yeah, it’s better that way,” Almia agreed.

“I’ll pick a date and let y’all know then,” Jalisa said, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Great. Thank you for doing this,” Trinity said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze Jalisa’s hand.

The warmth in the room was undeniable. Family. Loud. Messy. Deeply rooted. And Jalisa, for all her uncertainties and tired nights, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Dinner brought everyone together around the long dining table. The twins were tucked into their bassinets nearby, peacefully dozing under soft pastel blankets, unaware of the noise around them. Jalisa had cooked enough food to feed a small army of baked garlic chicken, seasoned rice, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and peach cobbler resting on the counter, still warm.

Jon piled his plate high while giving Jalisa an appreciative nod. “You did your thing, sis. Again.”

“She always does,” Sefa said, already halfway through his first helping. “I don’t even try to eat before I get here.”

“You better chew and swallow before you start singing praises,” Almia teased, passing a bowl of salad.

Jayla sat next to Mariah, braiding her hair with careful fingers. The two of them whispered and giggled about sleepover plans of nail polish colors, which movies to watch, which snacks to steal from the kitchen. Jayla was patient with Mariah in a way that reminded Jalisa of herself with her sisters, once upon a time. Watching them together made her heart ache with love.

As everyone settled in with their plates, Jalisa paused, soaking in the moment. Laughter bounced off the walls. A baby monitor glowed softly on the kitchen counter, and one of the twins let out a sleepy sigh. Jalisa knew that soon she'd be up again for a feeding, but for now, she had this: a house full of people she loved, people who loved her back, without strings or judgment.

“Alright,” Sefa said, raising his glass of sweet tea. “To the twins! Two months old today. Time is flying by. To their beautiful momma for keeping everything together. And to this food, which might be the best part of my whole week.”

“Hear, hear,” Jon agreed, tapping his glass gently.

“To Jalisa,” Trinity added. “For making all of us feel like this is home.”

Jalisa ducked her head, touched. She never asked for applause. She didn’t need it. But hearing it still felt like balm.

After dinner, the kids scattered, some to the playroom, some to the backyard to chase fireflies. Jayla helped Mariah set up sleeping bags in the living room, and the two began organizing an impromptu spa night with pink robes, slippers, and peel-off face masks. It didn’t matter that Mariah was eight and Jayla nearly eighteen; to them, they were the same age in spirit.

In the nursery, Trinity helped Jalisa with the babies. Jaquala was fussing just a little, needing to be rocked, while Jariana lay quietly in her bassinet, wide-eyed and watching the mobile spin overhead.

“I don’t know how you do it with two,” Trinity murmured, pacing slowly with Jaquala in her arms.

“Half the time I don’t,” Jalisa admitted, adjusting a swaddle. “But then I look at them, and I remember why I try so hard.”

“You’re really okay with doing this alone?” Trinity asked gently.

Jalisa hesitated, the question heavy but fair. “I’m not alone. Not really. I have my kids. I have y’all. And Joshua… well, he’s here, in his own way. He’s trying. I don’t know if that means we’ll ever be something again, but for now, I don’t feel like I’m drowning. And that’s progress.”

Trinity nodded slowly. “That makes sense. You don’t need to decide anything now. You’ve got time. And we’ve got your back.”

Later, once everyone had said their goodbyes, and the dishes were cleaned, the twins fed again, and the house had quieted, Jalisa found herself alone in her room. The baby monitor played soft static on her nightstand. Mariah’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, where she and Jayla were still deep in girl stuff.

Jalisa stood in front of her dresser, brushing her hair slowly. Her reflection stared back of tired eyes, soft smile, and strength in her posture. This woman was not the same person from two years ago. She had carried heartbreak and healing at the same time. She had let herself feel angry, confused, hopeful, and everything in between. And still, she kept going.

There was a knock at the door. Soft. Almost hesitant.

Jalisa opened it to find Sefa standing there with a sleeping toddler in his arms.

“Sorry to bother,” he whispered. “Zee passed out, and Almia’s got her hands full rounding up the boys. Mind if I lay her down in the guest room?”

“Of course,” Jalisa said, stepping aside.

He moved quietly, laying his infant daughter down with the practiced grace of a father who’d done this many times. After covering her with a blanket, he paused.

“Can I ask you something?” he said softly.

Jalisa leaned against the doorframe. “Sure.”

“Do you know how strong you are?” he asked, looking her in the eyes.

Jalisa blinked, thrown. “I don’t feel strong all the time.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “You’re not supposed to. But you still show up. For your kids. For our family. For yourself.”

She smiled a little, eyes stinging. “Thank you, Sefa.”

He gave her a short, respectful nod and walked back down the hallway.

When Jalisa returned to her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, letting the quiet wrap around her like a blanket. The babies stirred faintly in their crib, and she walked over to check on them. Jariana’s fist was curled around a soft toy, while Jaquala’s tiny foot kicked against the blanket. Their breaths were steady. Peaceful.

She leaned down and kissed each of their foreheads.

“Happy two months, my girls,” she whispered.

Then she slipped under her covers, leaving the door cracked so she could still hear Mariah and Jayla’s voices in the other room.

The following morning the sunlight crept gently through the gauzy curtains of Jalisa’s bedroom, casting soft golden lines across the bassinet where Jaquala and Jariana slept curled beside one another like mirror images. The house was quiet, remarkably so after the lively energy of the previous day with Jon, Sefa, Trinity, Almia, and all the kids filling it with laughter, teasing, and that familiar warmth Jalisa had come to both cherish and fear.

She lay still for a moment, her body anchored to the comfort of her mattress, listening to the little breaths of her newborn daughters and the occasional creak of the house settling. Somewhere down the hall, Mariah was still asleep in her room with Jayla, no doubt tangled in blankets and braids, giggling late into the night as only eight-year-olds with their favorite person could.

Jalisa reached over to her nightstand and tapped her phone awake. Notifications blinked softly. One stood out.

Joshua: Thanks for letting my brothers be around yesterday. I know it meant a lot to them. It meant a lot to me too.

A quiet text. No expectations. No pressure. Just truth.

Jalisa stared at it for a moment longer than she needed to. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to say, and what she wanted to say. The words he sent echoed in her mind. It meant a lot to me too.

She had been. Despite herself.

Yesterday had felt like a reminder of what family could be. Not perfect. Not without tension. But layered and full. Jon’s easy laughter, the way he let Mariah color in his tattoos like it was the most important task in the world. Sefa’s playful banter with CJ and Aryan. Trinity’s quiet vulnerability as she spoke of her hopes for a baby of her own. Almia’s dry wit in the kitchen. Even the chaos of Mariah asking for sleepovers and the women planning the triplets’ birthday party had brought life into Jalisa’s home in a way she hadn’t realized she missed.

She typed slowly.

Jalisa: It was a good day. Your family always shows up. I appreciate them.

She stared at the message for a second before her thumb hit send.

There was no immediate reply, and that was okay. The silence didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt like space like possibility.

The twins stirred in their bassinet, little fists fluttering, and Jalisa leaned over to scoop Jaquala into her arms. She nestled the baby against her chest, inhaling the soft scent of powder and newness. Jariana soon followed, tiny features scrunching as her sister was taken away.

Jalisa padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen, one baby nestled in each arm. CJ and Aryan were already in the kitchen eating cereal. “Good morning,” Jalisa said to her sons. “Morning,” They mumbled. She moved with the quiet ease of a woman who had done this before, rocking hips gently, knowing which floorboard would creak, which bottle was prepped.

The kitchen still held the scent of last night’s dinner of seasoned chicken, roasted vegetables, warm bread. A dish towel hung over the oven handle, a few mugs were drying on the rack. Evidence of life well-lived. She warmed bottles and fed the twins in soft sync, their mouths latching with instinctive rhythm.

Footsteps padded down the hall.

“Mommy,” Mariah yawned, stepping into the kitchen in her bunny slippers and pink robe. “Jayla’s still asleep.”

“That’s fine, baby. Come sit with us,” Jalisa said, nodding to a stool at the counter.

Mariah climbed up and watched her mother feed her sisters. “Can we go to the park later?”

“We’ll see how the babies are doing,” Jalisa answered.

“Okay. Can I help dress them?”

Jalisa smiled. “You just wanna pick their outfits.”

Mariah grinned, proud. “They gotta look cute.”

Later in the morning, the doorbell rang. Jalisa wasn’t expecting anyone, but when she opened the door, there stood Trinity, in sweats and a messy bun, holding a box of donuts.

“Morning,” she said brightly. “I brought breakfast.”

Behind her, Almia waved from the car. “I’ll be back. I’m running errands. Good luck surviving Trinity’s caffeine rush.”

Inside, the house filled again with warmth. Trinity held Jaquala while Mariah showed her the “matching bows” she picked out for the twins. Jalisa made coffee. They settled into the living room, music playing softly in the background.

“I was thinking,” Trinity said, “of doing a little video for the twins’ two-month milestone. Just something sweet. You okay with that?”

Jalisa nodded. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“They’re getting so big,” Trinity whispered, kissing Jaquala’s cheek. “You’re doing amazing, you know that?”

Jalisa glanced at her, unsure of how to receive the compliment.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

And that was the kind of morning it became. Unhurried. Gentle. Full of small conversations, baby coos, and sisterhood. The kind that stitched a life together.

Later that afternoon, when the house settled again and the visitors left, Jalisa stood near the window with one baby on her hip, watching the wind move through the trees.

Her phone buzzed.

Joshua: Good, that’s all I want for you.

Jalisa stared out at the light slanting across the yard. Her heart softened.

Maybe this was the beginning of something she didn’t need to define just yet. Maybe it was enough to be here, in this moment, surrounded by love in its many forms.

And maybe there was still more to come.

Later in the afternoon, Jalisa stood in the hallway of the guest bathroom, a towel slung over her shoulder and her edges brushed back with water. Her thick coils were free from the usual bun she kept tucked at the nape of her neck, springing loose in every direction. She gave the bathroom door a light knock.

“Trin,” she called softly.

Trinity peeked out, eyebrows raised, still wearing her oversized tie-dye T-shirt and leggings. “Yeah, sis?”

Jalisa leaned against the doorframe with an amused, almost shy smile. “You still know how to flat iron some hair?”

Trinity let out a laugh and opened the door wider. “Girl, you asking the right one! Come in here. Let’s get that head right.”

They turned the bathroom into a little salon with the counter lined with oils, clips, a paddle brush, and Trinity’s travel-size flat iron. Jalisa sat on the edge of the tub while Trinity got the sink water just right. As Trinity gently worked her fingers through Jalisa’s hair, massaging in the shampoo, the room filled with the sound of water, quiet music, and easy conversation.

“You always had thick hair like this?” Trinity asked, rinsing Jalisa’s curls.

“Since birth,” Jalisa said with a laugh. “My mama used to say it was like combing through roots in a forest.”

Trinity grinned. “Well, the forest is thriving, okay?”

They talked about everything and nothing like kids, family, how Mariah was basically Jayla’s shadow now, and how the twins had been sleeping through the night like tiny miracles. When the flat iron came out, they moved to the guest room, where Jalisa sat in front of the mirror and Trinity took her time parting, oiling, and smoothing section after section.

It was intimate in a way only sisterhood could be, no judgment, just warmth and care. When Trinity did the final pass and laid Jalisa’s edges, they both admired the look in the mirror.

“Oh, you got me feeling like I’m about to go somewhere,” Jalisa said, fluffing the silky strands.

Trinity winked. “Even if it’s just the living room, at least you’re going there laid.”

They burst out laughing, the kind that fills a home with joy.

Jalisa had just stepped out of the guest room, her freshly pressed hair bouncing gently around her shoulders, when she heard the front door creak open. She paused at the top of the stairs, her hand resting on the banister, just as she heard the unmistakable shuffle of plastic grocery bags.

“Hello?” Joshua’s voice called from the foyer.

Trinity, who was in the kitchen pouring herself a glass of sweet tea, peeked around the corner. “It’s just your baby daddy,” she said with a smirk.

Jalisa rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her faint smile as she slowly descended the stairs. “What you doing here?” she asked, her voice lighter than expected.

Joshua looked up, bags dangling from each arm and for a second, his words caught in his throat. Jalisa stood there with her hair straightened, skin glowing from the steam of the earlier wash, and a soft pink lounge set that hugged her frame gently. She looked like peace.

He cleared his throat and held the bags up. “Almia sent me. Said you probably needed groceries and you weren’t about to ask.”

Jalisa blinked. “Groceries?”

He stepped inside fully, placing the bags gently on the kitchen counter. “Yeah. Some soups, oat milk, stuff for the kids. And your protein shakes.”

“She thinks of everything,” Jalisa murmured, almost to herself, scanning through the bags.

“She does,” Joshua said. “But she also said I should bring them myself. Her words, not mine: ‘It wouldn’t kill you to be useful.’”

Trinity cackled from the other side of the kitchen.

Jalisa picked up a carton of eggs. “She really know how to delegate.”

Joshua’s eyes lingered on her hair as she tucked a piece behind her ear. “You straightened it?”

“Trinity did it,” she said, glancing over at her sister-in-law with a thankful smile. “Haven’t worn it like this in a while.”

“It looks good,” he said quietly, meaningfully. “Like, really good.”

Jalisa looked at him for a beat too long, then nodded once and returned her attention to the bags. “Thank you… for bringing this.”

Joshua shifted his weight, watching her move, so different from the woman he once knew who never let herself rest. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Tired. But today’s been good. The twins are two months now.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I looked at the date the other day and just... sat with that for a second.”

There was a long pause between them, comfortable but thick with everything unsaid. He wasn’t pushing. And somehow, that made it harder and easier at the same time.

She looked back up at him. “You wanna see them?”

He gave a small smile. “Always.”

Once the groceries were put away. Trinity had retreated to the living room with a snack and her phone. Jalisa had gone upstairs to the nursery with Joshua.

Joshua stood beside the bassinet with one arm behind his back and the other hand lightly stroking Jaquala’s cheek with his knuckle.

“She just woke up?” he asked quietly, glancing back at Jalisa.

“She was fussing a little, probably a little gassy. I burped her, but she’s clingy today,” Jalisa replied.

He nodded, and his eyes didn’t leave the baby.

“Wanna hold her?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Joshua didn’t speak, just extended both hands instinctively, the way he always did. Jalisa smiled faintly and stepped forward, gently placing Jaquala into his arms. Her tiny face was scrunched with sleep, her breath warm and rhythmic against Joshua’s chest as he adjusted her, resting her securely along his forearm with practiced ease.

She fit perfectly against him.

Jalisa didn’t leave the room. She just watched him.

Joshua swayed a little as he stood, rocking side to side with unconscious tenderness. He looked down at Jaquala, brushing her soft curls with his thumb. “She got your lips,” he murmured.

“And your eyebrows,” Jalisa answered, her voice wrapped in something fond, almost shy.

He chuckled. “And that look of judgment already. That’s all you.”

Jalisa laughed quietly, then leaned against the doorframe. Her arms crossed over her chest, not in defense, but to hold something still inside her.

“I miss this,” Joshua said after a long pause. “Not just the babies. Just… being here.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were on the curve of his shoulder where Jaquala now dozed, her little fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. The way he held her, like there was nothing else in the world worth doing but keeping her safe.

“I know,” Jalisa finally said. “And I know you’ve been trying. You really have.”

Joshua looked up. “That mean I’m doing okay?”

“You’re doing more than okay,” she said, gently. “It’s just gonna take time. For me.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not rushing you. I just wanted you to know I meant what I said. Back then. About doing it different this time.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, it was thick, warm, the kind of silence that two people only share when they’ve already spoken the most important things.

She stepped forward and adjusted the blanket on Jaquala’s tiny feet. Her hand brushed his forearm.

“Thanks for the groceries,” she said.

He looked at her, not just at her words, but the way she stood a little closer now, a softness around her eyes. “Anytime.”

Jaquala let out a little breathy sigh in her sleep, and both parents looked down at her with the same quiet awe.

“She’s safe with you,” Jalisa whispered.

Joshua met her gaze. “So are you.”

That’s when she knew he wasn’t just holding their daughter. He was holding space for all of them.

Even her.

Next: Look What You Did 10

[magnus-marmot]

Transmutations in TMAGP

Since most of the incidents deal with change and transformation, I'd like to collect my thoughts on their nature in one post. So I'll be explaining some ideas on the alchemical processes taking place. First I'll explain a (relatively) simple Tria Prima model, and then I'll try to break down some processes and symbolism we see in the show. This will be really long, like excessively long. Look, I'll throw in some nice alchemy pictures to make it more palatable. Feel free to skip the Tria Prima part if you've been reading my previous theories, I'm not really covering anything new in that.

Transmutations broken down with the Tria Prima

I think the most simple way to view it would be with the Tria Prima. Many of you are probably aware of the Body/Mind/Soul division, and while it's extremely simplistic, it actually works for us here.

From Alchymia complementum (1630)

We have the Body, or the Salt 🜔, which is the core, the physical shell, the metaphorical earth that the change is inflicted upon. In an alchemical transmutation, Salt must first be separated from the volatile components by burning or decomposition, and in the end they are brought back together. In TMAGP, Salt would be the physical, grounded part, such as a human body, a Bonzo suit or a creepy toy. You can think of it as a vessel.

Then we have the Mind, or the Mercury ☿. This is trickier to break down because the alchemists saw it as so many different things, but you can think of it as the essence. Not just the essence of the subject, but of everything. It's the malleable and volatile part of the subject, but it's also the intangible thoughts, concepts and archetypes in the collective unconscious, the metaphorical water or air that flows through everything. It's both the prima materia and the dissolving principle. In TMAGP, this would be the the changing ideas and beliefs around a concept, most recently demonstrated in how Henrich Unheimlich came to be, but you can see it in a lot of the cases. It's why all the supernatural phenomena reflect not only fears but also expectations and other strong feelings. Why the lack of clocks and purpose creates timeless liminal spaces, why the fear and reverence given to Bonzo made him what he is. It's what the Archivist uses as a fuel for its human transmutations and what the Magnus Institute tried to tap into for their Magnum Opus.

And finally we have the Soul, or the Sulphur 🜍, which seems to confuse people the most because of what we usually think of as the "soul". It's not the entirety of a human psyche, just the active, conscious and feeling part. But it's also the soul of all matter, in that it gives them life and allows active change. It's the metaphorical fire. Alchemists thought that Sulphur can be used to coagulate Mercury, to give it form. In TMAGP, Sulphur would be the catalyst that initiates the transmutation. It can be literal fire (like what possibly created Heinrich Unheimlich), or just a metaphorical fire, such as the violent act that gave birth to Bonzo.

From Hermaphroditic Child

There are also clearly two types of transmutations in the show. First we have the active ones, caused by fire or intent. Then we have the passive ones, caused by slow dissolution and characterised by coldness. These mirror the active (Celestial Nitre or Sol) and passive (Celestial Salt or Luna) principles of alchemy. It also evokes solve et coagula, where all matter is constantly dissolved and coagulated. As alluded to before, Mercury is what dissolves and Sulphur is what coagulates, and their purified counterparts in Luna and Sol form a harmonious unity when brought together. Which brings them back to their Salt.

A lot of the cases can be broken down into Salt/Mecury/Sulphur, but it's not an entirely clean model because many of the transmutations go wrong or are incomplete. Next I'll try to break down the actual processes based on some common symbolism and what we're given in the show.

Transmutation stages and common symbolism

For this I'll assume the most basic version of the Great Work, which consists of three stages: nigredo, albedo and rubedo. There are loads of different stages and processes, but they generally fall under these three. The cases in TMAGP rarely involve the entire process, and some are clearer than others.

From Pretiosissimum Donum Dei (1475)

Sealed vessels

First of all, I've noticed that a lot of these transmutations take place in a sealed vessel of some kind, much like they do in alchemy. This can be anything from a Bonzo suit to a closed Victorian carriage, a coffin, a locked room (such as a prison cell, a lock museum, a room in a reptile emporium, a virtually made zoom call room, the Archivist's office), a closed off liminal space (like a secret garden with no exit, a pier enveloped in fog, a brutalist building trapped in a void), or even a human body (like in Alice's dream, like alnewman's thigh, or like Herr Schmidt's brain).

Nigredo (blackening)

The stage where matter is broken down, burned or decomposed. Transformation can only occur once the old has been reduced to ashes so that something new can be born from it. Spiritually it involves ego death, stripping down the conscious thought and dissolving into the unconscious. Common symbolism/imagery include death, corpses, skeletons, dismemberment, rot, toads (ie. the decomposing prima materia), crows, ravens, Saturn/lead, darkness/night, indistinguishable black mass (massa confusa), flooding, drowning (especially of the king), eclipse, the green lion (=mercury) swallowing the sun.

From Philosophia Reformata (1622), coloured by Adam McLean

Here are some examples I've found in TMAGP:

Calcination or decomposing matter with heat (either open fire or a more subdued, natural heat). While there are cases with proper fire, heat seems to be the important factor here. In her dream, Alice describes the unbearable heat that envelops her when she's stuck inside her heart. We also get the exterminator at the reptile shop complaining about the heat when she's stuck in the room with an infection (=decomposing flesh), Lady Mowbray's caterer is cooking with high heat when his experience begins, Magnus mentions the unreasonably warm weather when he encounters the carriage, Menke was "sweating buckets" in the Bonzo suit, Mrs. Locke keeps forgetting to get someone to turn the heater off, and so on. Heat is what begins the transmutation process in these cases.

Dissolution into the mercurial waters. This is usually what drowning signifies in the alchemical imagery, and also what I think it signifies in TMAGP. Especially the drowning of the old king, which we're straight up given in the lock museum. Bonus points to the pest control lady who was about to be drowned in snakes, an extremely common symbol for Mercury. We also have the tech review guy speaking about the screen dissolving, and one of the transcripts has an instance of the Archivist dissolving into the wind. (No one can convince me that these word choices are coincidental.) And then we get some dissolving egos. The guy with his cursed dice seems to be losing his identity and starts seeing himself only as an archetype of a stranger who tricks people into rolling the dice, and poor Kyla's ego was dissolved into the emergent mind of Liverpool. We also have several cases of people who get lost in liminal spaces (such as the pier or the service station, even the custodian at Hilltop) and then get their identities dissolved. I don't think it's a coincidence that this happens at liminal locations, which are very aligned with the concept of Mercury. Especially if there's an element of water present. These themes are also usually accompanied by mentions of coldness, which tracks with Mercury's properties being wet and cold.

From Splendor solis, coloured by Adam McLean

Descending or entering a dark space, both of which align with the idea of descending into the collective unconscious or the "dark night of the soul". The darkness is pretty straight-forward. It's the violinist getting lost in the dark woods, Doctor Webber entering the dark garden, Patricia repeatedly talking about being in a dark space/world with her baby. The descent is more incidental, but I'm keeping an eye out for patterns. For example, the old couple had to descend to enter the lock museum, the food critic descended the alleyway to Hungry Man's Grill, a lot of descending into basements. It's a recurring theme but could be meaningless.

Infections or putrefaction, or the literal decomposition of living matter. We've got our fair share on the account of this being a horror podcast, but this should be seen as a transitory stage in a transformation. Some good examples include Dr. Webber's body breaking down and decomposing to give way to his new plant self, or Alesis's body becoming paralysed and moldy to allow the coral to grow. Magnus's colleague being ingested in the carriage, Bonzo's victims putrefying inside the suit, Alice/Sam's rotting corpse in her dream, the rotting food in Hungry Man's Grill (this one seems interesting, because the restaurant seems to be stuck in the putrefaction stage and the food refuses to decompose even when the guy leaves).

Sunset as a manifestation of the green lion devouring the sun (gold dissolving into mercury), which symbolises the onset of ego death or the beginning of the blackening (or the night). This has been emphasised in two cases. Firstly, the crypto bro from ep. 13 looks at the sun setting behind the sea (=Mercury) twice when making decisions on the trading app, and secondly, Lady Mowbray's hunt begins when the sunset colours everything crimson. Both of which are pivotal moments for these characters' personal transformation.

From the Rosarium Philosophorum

Albedo (whitening)

This stage marks the purification of matter through repeated washing, distillation and the like. It's where we begin to see the true essence of the prima materia and will be able to separate it from the rest. This stage is often associated with Luna, silver, or the White Elixir/Tincture. In psychology, it's where you discover and reconcile with your Shadow (or Animus/Anima) in the unconscious. Common symbolism includes doves, swans, lilies, whiteness, vibrant colours and eyes (known as the peacock's tail stage, though it's technically the transitional stage between nigredo and albedo), water of life, bathing, dawn (as in "always darkest before"), light emerging from the darkness, the queen, the moon (Luna), Anima (in the Jungian sense).

From the Mellon Collection

Some examples in TMAGP:

Purification or washing as an intentional attempt at removing impurities. Daria making adjustments to her painting in an attempt to perfect her own body. The violinist washing his hungry violin with blood in order to purify the music it produces. Alesis attempting to rid herself of her own impurities by growing a new self out of a coral (a lot of water and moonlight in that one, which fortifies the connection for me). Since purification is also often attributed to mercurial water, a lot of the water symbolism fits here too.

Colours, as seen in Daria's vibrant tattoo. Also the colours rushing into the liminal service station and the odd colours seen in the fog surrounding the pier. It's fitting, but not a very prevalent theme. Unless you count all ink, in which case it's very prevalent.

Encountering one's Shadow, which is a big theme in both TMA and here. Coming to terms with your inner darkness, fears and desires is what purification is about in spiritual alchemy. I think this is what the Archivist is doing. It's an embodiment of the Shadow, covered in eyes, here to distill and purify your fear and then project it back to you (killing you in the process). Although it's up to debate whether it feeds on the purified, distilled fear or the impurities left behind, it does leave something to be coagulated into the physical manifestation. (It's also worth noting that the compulsion has a lot of water imagery attached to it in the transcripts, things like "the dam breaks", "words gush out", "pouring out of her unstoppably like a river". And just to be extra clear, rain, dew, seas and rivers are all common symbols for Mercury.) Other than that, there are plenty of doubles or reflections in the show. We've got Darrien and his alternate darker self, the Millenium Dome construction worker's clone, Herr Schmidt's actual Anima crying to be let out of his brain, the horror blogger seeing his traumatic memories projected onto the big screen, Dr. Webber encountering his late wife in the garden, Alesis meeting her Piece in a dream, the list goes on. The important part for purification is the acceptance or healthy integration of the Shadow, which usually takes a twisted turn in TMAGP.

Dreams are often attributed to Luna, and they function as a link to the subconscious. In TMAGP, many of the dreams are linked to an epiphany, though it's not always a purifying one. Especially on the TMA side. Though I think the tech reviewer's meditation in the locked room could be seen as a form of purification. I think dreams and meditation have a wider metaphysical effect that I won't go into here.

The queen or the mother would go more into discussions on characters than processes, but I'll mention it here anyway since the albedo stage is most often equated with Luna and the emergence of the queen. We've got a couple of mothers, most notably Patricia (probably not Rupey's real mother but anyway) who's feeding her baby with her own blood (this is often symbolised by a pelican which were believed to bite their own chests to feed their young). Alesis is also very nurturing, and her entire case screams lunar symbolism. And the most obvious queen would be Lady Mowbray, who's described as a matriarch. But the most interesting one of all is our very own Celia, who fits the lunar archetypes of motherhood, secrets and deception to a T.

From the Ulrich Ruosch Manuscript

Light in the dark is pretty straightforward. Patricia describes Rupey as bringing light to her dark world, in the Hilltop custodian's memories there's a sudden light coming from one of the shops in the dark shopping centre, the computer monitor sheds light into the dark zoom room, the ritual Sam witnessed radiates yellow light into the dark. (Though the yellow makes it more in line with the citrinitas or yellowing stage, which is specifically the solar light shining through instead of the lunar reflection. It's a frequently forgotten stage with little direct symbolism so I thought it would make more sense to omit it, but just know that depictions of sunrise or yellow light might lean towards the citrinitas stage between albedo and rubedo.)

Rubedo (reddening)

The final stage marks the completion of the Work and the emergence of the Philosopher's Stone. It includes the conjunction of the opposites and the coagulation of the ultima materia. In psychology, it involves the integration of the unconscious and the ego into a singular self. Common symbolism for the reddening includes a phoenix, the king, a crown, the sun (Sol), gold, red or purple dye, red roses or poppies, blood, trees (specifically the Philosopher's tree) and lions. The union of the opposites (Sulphur and Mercury, silver and gold, Animus and Anima etc.) is symbolised by a marriage of the king and queen, sun and moon, red and white flower, two lions fighting, a lion (sun) devouring a serpent (moon), procreation, and so on.

From The Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine

Examples in TMAGP:

The union of opposites is a continuation of encountering one's Shadow, and sometimes this part is counted into albedo (or citrinitas) as well. But the conjunction can only happen once you've separated and purified the components, or made peace with them. Dr. Webber is unified with his late wife (queen) in the garden, and the two are coagulated into one tree. In Alice's dream, she's also unified with her late husband (king) into the same body, though the process is incomplete and has to begin again (probably because she's not able to perform the separation, which is thematically fitting and painful for my soul). The conjunction is also present in the union of Sulphur and Mercury (or their purified versions Sol and Luna), which I discussed in the Tria Prima section. And I currently think it's also what Fr3-d1 or the entity inhabiting it is trying to do with the data it's collecting.

Blood and dye, which are symbolic of the liquids that give the Stone its crimson color. Lots of blood to go around, but the most relevant case would once again be the violin and the blood that purifies it. Purple dye reminds me of one case alone, and it's notable that the more purple paint there was on Bonzo's cards, the more present he became. It's not entirely clear to me when Bonzo actualised into what he is now, so it's difficult to say whether that was intentional. Though the episode was written by Alex, which means I'm much more willing to read intentional alchemy symbolism into it.

Devouring is big in alchemical iconography, and it's big in TMAGP too. We've got masses of people biting into each other (the violinist's audience and the hungry non-people in the service station), obviously Bonzo eating people (and letters), Lady Mowbray's cannibal party, little German kid eating a mum sandwich, demon baby eating his "mum" just cause (bringing us back to purification with blood), and Hungry Man's Grill which we can't prove isn't serving human meat. Either way, it's often used as a metaphor for the conjunction.

Trees have also only popped up twice (as far as I recall), but in compelling cases. First is Dr. Webber, who by now has gone through all the stages. Second is Newton's Arbor Philosophorum, which is usually formed with Mercury or Silver. He feeds its fruit to his dog (another act of devouring and union), who begins to grow into a tree itself. Newton truly was on the precipice of something.

From the Twelve Keys of Basil Valentine

Conclusion

Whew, I'm never writing something like this again [bzzt]. If you read this far, wow. I'm impressed, and I appreciate you. Did the pictures help? Or make it worse? Let me know.

PS. I recognise that I might be drawing parallels where there are none, but that's what I do. I hope you got something out of it. Also do not ask me what's up with Needles. I have no idea what to make of him.

[helen-with-an-a]

Nerves pt 2

Hiiii, so here is pt 2 of Nerves that came out last week.

Part 1 : Part 2

Ingrid Engen x Reader

Description: It's R's first time

Word Count: 5.7k

TW: Smut, 18+, cunnilingus (R receiving)

Ingrid felt like she was going to have a heart attack. Well, that may be a slight exaggeration, but she definitely felt her heart hammering away against her chest, threatening to burst. She had never done this before. You had come to her a few weeks ago, all innocent eyes and soft smiles and whispered in the most adorable way that you were ready to go further. To go further than just a steamy make out session on the sofa. Why was she so terrified? She had had sex. Lots of sex. She was good at sex. But something about being your first. She told you she didn’t care about it being your first time, and that was true, she honestly didn’t. But it was just the fact it was you. She might have had sex before, but she had never had sex with you. And she was terrified.

She was glad you both still had your separate flats. No matter how much she loved waking up with you resting on her chest, or seeing you wearing one of her shirts as you cooked up a storm, or driving to training with you, one hand perched on your thigh, she was glad that she was able to kiss you goodbye so you could both get ready for your date in private.

Ingrid felt more nervous than your actual first date. She had spent over an hour in the bathroom, shaving, waxing, plucking every unwanted hair. She had used not one, not two, but three different body washes, two hair masks and a body scrub. She had busted out her old blow dryer and spent far too long with her head flipped and her arms hurting as she waited for the mass of dark hair to be dry. Ingrid had agonised over her outfit, stressed over the neatness of the flat and fussed over her makeup.

Little did she know that you were just as nervous. What did you wear? Should you shave? What about lotion? Did you pack an overnight back? Would she be expecting some fancy lingerie? Would she be wearing some fancy lingerie? How would it work? You were only going to hers, not some fancy restaurant or anything. Both of you, in her flat, having a meal … and then … other things.

God, you couldn’t even say it. Sex, it was only sex. People have sex all the time. But you weren’t people. You were you. And Ingrid was Ingrid. And you were going to be having sex. Together. You were going to have sex with Ingrid. You blushed at the thought.

You had seen her in a bikini before. Her long legs and pale skin, water trickling down her chest as she climbed back on board … you swallowed at the memory.

Before you knew it, it was 7 pm and you were walking up the stairs to her flat. You had done this walk countless of times, even before you started dating. 10 steps from the parking space, 13 across the welcome area, 27 steps up the stairs, 14 down the corridor. It was all familiar, all a part of your routine. Butterflies stirred in your tummy.

“Hei, kjære.” Ingrid’s voice was smooth as honey. You looked up, staring straight at the beautiful green of her eyes.

“H-hi,” you whispered, a blush rising to your cheeks.

Settling into the sofa felt normal. And it felt odd, that it was normal. Everyone had made this big thing about losing your virginity. Yes, alright, you were really nervous about it, but more so because it was the first time anyone would see you in that way. You had no doubt that Ingrid would be soft and sweet. That she would guide you and do exactly what you wanted. That she would …

“I was thinking we order food?” Ingrid smiled, relaxing next to you.

“S-sounds good.” You hated that your voice was so quiet. God, this was just a date. A totally normal date. You had had dates before. Had dates that never led to sex. This was your girlfriend for fuck’s sake.

“So what-”

“What are you want-” You both said at the same time, breaking off into giggles.

“What do you want to order?” You asked, leaning into her side.

“Sushi?”

“No,” you whined. “We had that like, two days ago.” Ingrid smiled at you, a love-sick expression on her face.

“Ok, Thai?” She suggested, knowing that the Thai place down the road was your go-to place, claiming that it refused to do deliveries for your flat so you just had to come to hers to eat it.

“Ooh, yeah. Can we get the spring rolls too, and the curry. And what was that thing Olga said we had to get? The skewer things?”

10 minutes later and the order had been placed, the idea of a quiet night with Thai food and Ingrid sounded fantastic. “Sorry, kjære. They said it’ll be like two hours before it gets here.” Ingrid winced, slumping back against the sofa.

“That’s ok. We’ve got a movie. And it’s not like I don’t wanna talk to you.” You teased, staring up at her.

“Oh, really? I’m important enough to talk to, am I?” She smirked down at you, her eyes flicking between your and your lips.

“Uh huh. Incredibly important.” You kept up the teasing tone, but the words could not have been more true. She sighed happily, pushing you down to lie back against the arm as she settled on your chest.

You stayed like that for maybe twenty minutes. Twenty long agonising minutes where you kept flitting your eyes down to look at her. She looked comfortable, cozy even, yet perfectly dressed all at the same time. Soft trousers made from some stretchy fabric that just exuded quiet elegance and a plain top that screamed sophistication. God, why was she with you? Out of everyone on the planet, she had chosen you?  You knew you weren’t ugly, not by any means. You were a professional footballer on the top of your game. You knew you looked good, but it was more the undertones that Ingrid gave that set you worlds apart. She was elegant and gentle and wonderful and had this confidence about her that, even when lying here, curled up on your chest, gave her a glow the radiated from within. You had none of that. You were just an anxious girl. Shy, awkward, timid girl who had somehow managed to catch the attention of the most perfect person in the world.

You felt Ingrid’s lips move against your neck, placing a few careful kisses, testing the waters. “Stop,” Ingrid whined gently.

“Huh?” You struggled to look down at her, torn between your inner monologue berating you and the feel of her lips against your skin.

“I can hear your brain working overtime from here, stop it.” She pulled back to stare into your eyes.

“I-I didn’t mean,” you stammered, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s ok. I know you, your mind is running a thousand miles an hour, you’re overthinking everything. And that’s ok. We don’t have to do anything. Not tonight, not ever if you don’t want to. It’s just me and you.” She pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m just nervous,” you breathed.

“So am I.” The confession was a hushed whisper, so quiet you barely heard it.

“Y-you’re? You’re nervous?” You blinked, what could she possibly be nervous about?

“Of course, I am. We might have sex tonight.” She rolled her eyes.

“But you’ve had sex before.” You looked at her, confused.

“Yeh, but I’ve never had sex with you. It’s new for both of us. This is our first time. I know what I like, but I don’t know what you do. I don’t know if I’ll live up to your expectations, y’know.” Ingrid looked down shyly. Your heart swelled, a small smile dancing on your lips.

“Oh,” you paused. “Well, I know I like kissing you,” you stated matter-of-factly. She let out a melodical laugh. “What?” You couldn’t help but join in.

“I like kissing you too.” She said, emphasising her point by planting a swift peck on your lips.

“Why don’t we start there?” You suggested, eyes wide.

“That sounds like a fantastic place to start,” she whispered, leaning in and giving you a slow kiss. The first touch of her lips against yours was everything – so soft they felt like silk. Her lips moved against yours with an aching tenderness, igniting a charge that left you dizzy. Her teeth grazed your lower lip, sending a thrill through you, and you leaned in closer, unable to hold yourself back. You could feel her smile against your mouth, the way her body pressed against yours.

You weren’t quite sure how long you made out on the sofa … long enough to feel like teenagers, making out on their parents couch when they finally had the place to themselves. “Do you want to go to the bedroom?” Ingrid whispered against your lips, breathing shallow.

“Can we stay here?” You asked, confused as to why the couch wasn’t a perfectly good space.

“I mean, we can. It’s just more space on the bed. We can spread out a bit, and there’s not a giant window.” She jerked her head back towards the large window where the light from the street below was streaming into the living room.

“Oh, yeah.” You blushed, feeling embarrassed.

“But, I am totally down for a quickie on the couch, whenever you want it. Or in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or the shower, or the changing rooms, or the cupboard next to the medical room that no one uses.” You let out a laugh, arching into her at the thought of all the places she wanted to have sex.

“Let’s just conquer the bedroom first?” You suggested, smiling up at her.

Ingrid paused, her eyes blinking slowly as she looked down at you. “You are so beautiful, especially when you laugh.” You felt your cheeks warm.

Ingrid’s bed was wide and welcoming, her soft scent enveloping you as you settled against the pillows. She kissed you softly again, her lips like velvet as they moved against yours. You felt her hands move up your body, her nails scratching against your stomach. “Is … is this ok?” she asked timidly.

“More than,” you breathed, arching as her hand reached your bra. She squeezed gently, smiling into another kiss.

Kissing Ingrid was magical, when her lips were against yours, the voices in your head quietened, leaving only happiness running through your veins. You let your hand tangle in her hair. She moaned gently as you tugged at her roots, your legs looping around her waist. With a soft sigh, you shifted your hips against hers, testing the waters, moving in a way that felt natural, instinctive. The movement brought a warmth to your cheeks and made your breath hitch, and from the soft gasp that left Ingrid’s lips, you could tell she felt it too.

“Please, Ingrid,” you whined, the words slipping out in a soft, desperate tone when it became clear she wasn’t letting you set the pace. She was holding back, making you ask, making you wait – and it was driving you crazy.

“Please, what, kjære?” she teased, her lips brushing close enough that you could feel her warm breath against your skin, her hand squeezing your breast again.

“Please,” you whimpered again. You captured her lips again in a kiss, soft and insistent, hoping it would convey the plea that words couldn’t seem to express.

“Please, what?” Her voice was maddeningly patient, eyes warm and soft as they met yours, but there was a glint in her gaze – a playful edge that hinted at just how much she was enjoying this, watching you unravel.

“Ingrid, baby,” you murmured, your voice trembling, nearly breathless, “I’m begging you here…”

She arched a brow, her lips quirking up in a teasing smirk. “Kjære, if this is you begging,” she said, her voice a low purr, “we’ll have to work on that.” The flush that crept over your cheeks only seemed to amuse her further.

“Please…” you whimpered again, voice barely a whisper. You could see the exact moment her resolve softened, her eyes gentle as she took in your expression.

With a sigh, she rolled her eyes affectionately and cupped your face in her hands, her thumb tracing soft circles over your cheek.

“Say the words, kjæreste,” she murmured. “Say it, and it’s yours.”

“Ingrid…” Your heart was racing, a frantic drumbeat against your ribs, your breath catching as you tried to form the words. “I want you … I need you. Please, make me yours.” You shocked yourself. You had never imagined that you would be able to say anything in the bedroom, let alone something so … well it wasn’t exactly dirty talk but it was definitely more than you were expecting.

“Good girl,” Ingrid smirked, kissing you again. Warmth flooded your body, you hips lifting against hers.

“How do we… how do we do this?” you asked, he nerves creeping back in despite how much you wanted this.

“Well … have … have you ever touched yourself?” Ingrid questioned, her voice gently. You swallowed, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks as you nodded.

“I’m not that much of a prude,” you replied, trying to hide the flush with a little humour, though it came out more vulnerable than you’d intended.

She chuckled softly, her fingers tracing a soothing pattern along your ribs. “I didn’t mean it like that, kjære,” she murmured, her tone gentle. “I meant… do you know what you like? Or what you don’t like?” Her lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending another thrill down your spine, and you felt your fingers unconsciously fidget with the fabric of her top, holding onto it like a lifeline.

“Oh.” You felt your blush deepen as you realised what she was asking. “Yes,” you whispered, finding her gaze with an honesty that felt liberating.

“And what do you like?” she asked, her voice low and velvety

Your voice faltered for a moment, but you pushed past the nerves. “I… I have a vibrator,” you admitted, words a shy murmur. “I like that.”

She hummed in approval, her hand continuing its gentle exploration across your body

“What about… inside?” she asked, her question as natural as if you were talking about a favourite movie.

You bit your lip, giving a small shake of your head. “I’ve tried… but I couldn’t get the angle right. It felt… weird.” You watched her nod and felt her press a kiss to your cheek.

“W-what about you?” you managed, your eyes tracing the curve of her cheek, her jaw, marvelling at how beautiful she was from so close.

“Don’t worry about me, kjære,” she replied softly, her gaze tender. “Tonight is all about you.” She leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that made your heart stutter.

As the kiss broke, you couldn’t help but murmur, “I still want to know…”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips “Well, I definitely prefer being on top… or at least in charge.” A smirk danced across her face, her eyes flickering with heat as she held your gaze. “And I’ve definitely pictured you beneath me,” she added, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, her lips lingering as another blush rose on your skin. “But for me, I like more attention on my clit… penetration alone doesn’t really do it.” Her words were so matter of fact, yet her eyes softened as she watched you take them in.

“But,” she murmured, her voice gentle again, “we can explore that another night.” Her thumb brushed your cheek as she spoke, her expression filled with a love that took your breath away. “Tonight, I want you… in every way you’ll let me.” The heat in her voice sent a rush through you, your breath catching, and you felt yourself grow wetter, the ache of wanting her growing with every word, every touch.

“O-okay.”

“Good girl,” Ingrid smirked, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your hips bucked involuntarily.

“If … if it’s alright with you.” She took another steadying breath. “Ireallywanttotasteyou … please.” You blinked, her words coming out so fast you missed it.

“Huh?” You laughed at yourself, the bluntness of your confusion breaking through the heated moment. Your laughter mixed with Ingrid’s, her head flopping down against your shoulder as she buried her head in embarrassment.

“Ask me again? I missed it. Slowly, this time,” you smiled, hand brushing her hair out of her face. She blushed heavily, but her eyes remained light and smiling.

“I really want to taste you.” She whispered.

“Louder,” you cocked your ear towards her.

“You are mean, kjære.” Ingrid raised her eyebrows. “I’ll get you back for this.” She teased, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Not … not tonight, though, right?” You double checked. You quite liked the idea of Ingrid maybe punishing you for something … but that was a bridge to be crossed at a later date.

“No, baby. Not tonight.” She reassured you. “Tonight, I want to taste you, if that’s ok with you, of course.”

“Good,” she said, her tone low and sultry, and she wasted no time. Her lips pressed a trail of soft kisses along your body, each touch igniting a fire within you. The world around you faded away, and all you could focus on was her – her warmth as she moved along your body, her touch as she shed both your and her clothes. As she moved, her hands slid along your sides, caressing your skin, memorising every inch of you. Your heart raced, every nerve ending alive with need.

It was an odd sensation, the way Ingrid's tongue moved against you was electric. The warmth of her mouth was more intense than you had anticipated, the way her fingers gripped at your hips added something you never knew was missing.

Your breath hitched a little as she circled your clit, her movements both teasing and deliberate, as if she were savouring every moment. “Down,” you gasped, your hands twisting in the sheets beneath you, gripping them tightly as a wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Ingrid listened intently, her tongue inching down just a fraction, perfectly attuned to your body and your needs. “To the left – there,” you directed, your voice breathless and trembling with anticipation. And then, as her tongue finally ran over your clit, a gasp escaped your lips, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through you. It was as if she had found the key to a door you never knew existed, unlocking a flood of sensations that had your body arching toward her, craving more. The way her tongue moved, skilled and confident, sent you spiralling closer to the stars.

Ingrid’s mouth was warm and inviting, her rhythm steady as she explored, each flick of her tongue sending you higher and higher. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter, threatening to break free with each tantalising stroke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the delicious heat between your legs and the sweet sound of your breaths mingling with the soft, wet sounds of her pleasure.

“Just like that,” you managed to whisper, your voice a mere tremor as your body responded instinctively to her touch. The way she focused on you, her eyes flickering up to meet yours, filled you with an overwhelming sense of intimacy. It felt surreal – raw, tender, and utterly consuming.

Your body was alive, electric with need, and you could feel the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter, ready to snap. With each flick and stroke, she guided you closer to that edge, and you knew you were teetering, ready to fall into bliss.

“Please,” you whined out, the word slipping from your lips in a breathless plea, desperate for release. Ingrid showed no sign of stopping; instead, she responded with a low, approving hum that sent shivers down your spine. Each stroke of her tongue had you creeping closer and closer to that sweet, euphoric edge.

“Oh, my god, Ingrid,” you gasped, your hips grinding wildly against her mouth, seeking more friction, more sensation. You could hardly contain the wave of pleasure building within you. Instinctively, your hand flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands.

“Don’t, don’t stop. Holy shit,” you groaned, your voice thick “Just like that,” you moaned again, feeling your back arch as each flick of her tongue sent electric pulses radiating through your core.

Ingrid’s movements were relentless, her focus unwavering as she worked to bring you closer to that blissful release.

“Fuck, shit. Fuck, I’m cumming,” you announced, the words spilling out before you could even process them. The bubble inside you burst, a wave of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, enveloping you completely. “Ingrid,” you shouted.

You felt your body tremble as the intensity washed over you, your back arching higher as you surrendered to the bliss. The room around you blurred, and all that existed was the exquisite sensation of Ingrid’s mouth and the intoxicating connection that enveloped you both. You had had orgasms before, but never one like that. Never ones that had you shaking, your thighs quivering around Ingrid’s head.

“Holy – ” you gasped, as the waves finally began to recede, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting for breath, a soft smile playing on your lips as you basked in the afterglow.

“That… was fucking hot,” Ingrid announced as she moved back up your body, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You were so loud, holy shit. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and delight as she smoothed your sweaty hair back off your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a rush of warmth through you. “S-sorry,” you stammered, mortified at the noise you’d made.

“Kjære,” she paused, her tone shifting to something softer, more serious as she waited for you to meet her gaze. The warmth in her eyes was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. “Don’t ever apologise. That was so unbelievably sexy.” Her words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, and you felt the tension ease from your body. “Herregud, I thought I was going to cum from the noises you were making.”

Ingrid leaned closer, her lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, tasting yourself on her lips. “You don’t know how hot you looked, completely lost in pleasure,” she continued, her voice low and sultry. “It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t help but smile at her words, a wave of warmth flooding through you. “I… I didn’t mean to be so loud,” you admitted, though the embarrassment was quickly fading.

“Good,” she replied, a playful grin spreading across her face. “I want you to be loud. I want to hear you. I want to know just how good it feels.” Her fingers traced delicate patterns along your arm, sending little shivers of excitement through you.

Ingrid settled down next to you, her hands smoothing soft patterns along your stomach.

“So …” You smirked. “All of that and I wasn’t even wined and dined.” You teased, your laughter mixing with hers.

“Just you wait, Kjære. I’ll wine and dine you for the rest of our lives, don’t you worry.”

“Rest of our lives, hey?”

“If you want,” She shrugged non-committally, but you could see the nerves in her eyes.

[beesandwasps]

This is one of the reasons why knee-jerk reactions to Trump are dangerous.

You remember when Trump was complaining about NAFTA, and every single Democrat was immediately pro-NAFTA? Well, the original intent of NAFTA — which it accomplished very effectively — was to destroy US unions by removing economic barriers which prevented the rich from moving production to Mexico, where employee and environmental protections were notoriously weaker. The documentation of this intent still exists. It was an idea hatched by the Reagan administration, negotiated by the first Bush, and which New Deal Democrats refused to ratify in Congress despite Bush’s signature on the treaty.

It was not until Bill Clinton got the Presidential nomination and then won in 1992, and therefore control of the DNC and the ability to — as he had semi-publicly announced he was going to do in advance as the chair of the self-appointed right-of-center “Democratic Leadership Council” — destroy the New Deal and the Civil Rights movement, that New Deal Democrats lost their grip on Congress and NAFTA got ratified. Bill Clinton twisted arms and called in favors and leaned heavily on the anti-New-Deal Democrats he had helped win office, and got it through.

And of course the public rhetoric surrounding NAFTA under Bush and Clinton both was not “we will destroy unions”; it was “if we make things easier on multinational corporations, they will respond by creating more jobs with better wages and benefits”.

Recognize that? That’s Trickle-Down Economics with the words “the rich” crossed out and “multinational corporations” written in in crayon. Which is a distinction without a difference because of course the rich control all the multinational corporations. But Democrats — with the extreme stupidity which would later lead them to nominate Hillary Clinton and Joe Biden — swallowed this hook, line, and sinker.

In fact, the whole thing was so successful from the standpoint of the right and the center-right, who are servants of the rich, that they decided to repeat it again with southeast Asia, where employee and environmental protections were and are even weaker than they had been in Mexico, and so the Trans-Pacific Partnership was born — basically NAFTA on steroids, but with the intent of moving everything to another continent instead of another country.

The TPP was negotiated entirely in secret under the GWB administration. (In fact, even members of Congress who were expected to ratify it were not permitted to copy the text to review at home — which was definitely the sign of a treaty designed to benefit the public.) Notoriously, the treaty included provisions for an appointed committee of corporate representatives who would have the ability to override national laws at will if said laws were deemed to make it too hard to turn a profit. (Say goodbye, remaining environmental and labor laws!)

As with NAFTA: the rhetoric surrounding the TPP was not “we’re going to help the rich skirt employment and environmental laws by transferring production to pliant countries without them”, it was “we need to unite to offset Chinese economic advantages”. (Nobody was ever permitted to question why, if China had such advantages, the treaty did not oppose them by creating a multinational trade embargo and tariffs, and instead attempted to demolish conditions everywhere else. Like asking “why does Al Qaeda hate the US so much?” after 9/11, this was a question which was literally not permitted to enter the discourse for fear that it would spoil the emotional argument desired by the rich.)

But then a funny thing happened: Bernie Sanders kicked up enough of a fuss over the treaty that it didn’t get through under GWB. Therefore, the rich turned to Obama, GWB’s replacement, to force it through. But the Republicans were so completely set against doing anything Obama wanted that they turned against the TPP and although it was signed, it was never ratified. Democrats became so knee-jerk reactionary against the Republicans that there was actually a movement in favor of the TPP and one of Hillary Clinton’s minor campaign promises in 2016 was to get it ratified. This cemented it in as something the Republicans would never support, and it has been a dead letter ever since despite Obama having signed the treaty.

Note the ironies here, all produced by knee-jerk reactions to political opposition:

The Democrats, who were trying to elect what would have been the first woman President, did not talk about ratifying the Equal Rights Amendment, but they did talk about ratifying the TPP, which would fairly quickly have destroyed most of the legal protections held by Americans.

The Republicans had the means to get basically everything they ever wanted — the TPP would have made it possible to dismantle minimum wage laws, environmental protections, workplace anti-discrimination laws, and so much more, without having to sell the party out to a dictator like Trump, and they even had Democratic agreement to it and could have plausibly blamed all the downsides on Democrats for decades afterwards, but they were so committed to being uncooperative that they let the opportunity go.

Would dismantling NAFTA — which Trump notably did not want to do, despite all his bluster — actually help at this point? Dunno. The damage to US organized labor has mostly been done, and even without the TPP the rich have moved most of their production to Asia anyway; the difference is that they’ve gone to China and India instead of the little countries which the US could have overruled and turned into dictatorships. Trump’s tariffs won’t fix that — they possibly could have done so, to some extent, if he had first created alternative manufacturing in the US and introduced the tariffs after there were US alternatives to turn to, but that would have required making the rich less rich, which is of course the opposite of his actual motivation.

Regardless, though: there really isn’t any point in defending NAFTA. It was a tool created and used by the rich to harm the rest of us, and it did so very effectively. (It didn’t even really help the Mexican economy — they got a bunch of low-paying factory work for a while, but in exchange their profitable small family-owned farms were brought into competition with US Big Agriculture and the results have been devastating.)

And if you’re trying to defend unions by painting it as a Trump-versus-Democratic-Party issue, then you’re wrong — the Democrats have been betraying you for decades, they tried to completely destroy you under Obama with the TPP, and they won’t stop being traitors any time soon.