#this was a very welcome decompression moment

[plusultraetc]

for the dvd commentary meme: show me where to find the silver lining, from:

“It could be broken,” Aizawa says.

to:

“Recovery Girl,” he says. “Now.”

Tysm for sending an ask!! You are so good at picking out like. the FIRST scene I wrote in a fic omg (I went back to at least Draft 2 and this scene remained almost entirely unchanged for the 14-ish months I was making tiny, picky edits to this fic!)

also I am stealing your & @blinkeasy's format for these, whoops <3

“It could be broken,” Aizawa says. Because you landed on it like an idiot, he doesn’t need to point out. “You’re not doing yourself any favors waiting for it to start swelling.” He tilts his head a little more and Hitoshi fights the juvenile urge to hold the injury away from him. “Scratch that. It is swelling. We’re going to see Recovery Girl.” “What?” Hitoshi gapes as Aizawa stands. “I don’t need to see Recovery Girl.” When his mentor only looks at him, one eyebrow raised, he says, “I don’t. I just leaned on it too hard, but it doesn’t even hurt now.”

First thing that comes to mind here is that I worried a lot about Shinsou's characterization in this fic being inconsistent with the rest of the expansion pack--too outwardly expressive, and somewhat childish. We've seen Shinsou in pain & beating himself up before, and most of the time he gets quiet, which is... kind of the opposite of what he does in this section, and more in line with his behavior later in the fic. But in the end, I let him have a moment because 1) he did just literally break his wrist, and the surprise is both somewhat masking the pain and making him act out a little; and 2) he is sixteen lol. He's also a lot harsher on himself in this one than he is in almost* any other fic I've written from his POV, for reasons I will inevitably yap about in a moment.

*I say almost because I have another all-but-finished Shinsou fic hanging out in my docs in which he confronts the relationship between his quirk and other people more directly and 😬

This lie very clearly doesn’t go over as smoothly. “It’s swelling,” Aizawa repeats flatly. “Sprains swell.” “It’s red.” Hitoshi looks back at his wrist, which is actually inflating kind of fast and is most definitely a specific shade of early-bruising red. There is a chance, however slim, that Recovery Girl should look at it. But—

Skip this little paragraph to avoid a kind of gross fact!! I chose the word "inflating" here based very much on a real injury I witnessed (everyone was ultimately okay, obv, it was just kind of freaky to see in real time)

"There is a chance, however slim, that Recovery Girl should look at it" makes me laugh every time I read it. I love referencing memes in Shinsou's internal monologue specifically, although I do sometimes fear the ones I choose are too dated for someone his age. Then again, MHA is set in sci-fi superhero future Japan, so I try not to worry too much about whether or not my memes are accurate lol

“I can go after training.” Aizawa’s expression flattens with one of those hard-to-read emotions, but in this case it might be a close neighbor of exasperation. “I’m letting you go early today,” he says, and Hitoshi’s heart sinks. “Therefore it is now after training. Get up.” “I can keep working,” he insists. He casts around for an argument that isn’t I bet you don’t send people like Midoriya to Recovery Girl in the middle of class because they fell down, even though what he wants to say is I bet you don’t send people like Midoriya to Recovery Girl in the middle of class because they fell down, or maybe I’m not made of glass just because I’m not in the Hero Course yet and I thought that’s why you agreed to train me, so what gives? “I can still move my fingers. It’s not broken.”  

Okay I actually love the Midoriya comparison in this paragraph so much. I've talked about this before, but I really enjoy his & Shinsou's dynamic--as mirror characters, as occasional rivals, and eventually, as friends. At this point, Midoriya is very much the bar Shinsou measures his Hero Course aspirations against after Midoriya knocked him out of the Sports Festival tournament, which is ironic, because they have more in common than Shinsou could possibly know. (This is another reason that I find it incredibly funny when they see each other again at the joint training exercise and are both immediately like REMATCH REMATCH REMATCH.)

I also love the Midoriya mention bc like. Early on in the series, Aizawa spent a lot of time telling Midoriya to stop breaking his own bones and trying to discourage him from relying on that 'strategy.' Shinsou says 'why can Midoriya break his arm and keep training >:(' and Aizawa replies 'my quirk was literally introduced in a scene in which I stopped him from doing that, try again'

(I feel like Aizawa has strong but complicated opinions about training with, or to the point of, physical injury. For no reason. Something something experience, something something necessity.)

Aizawa eyes Hitoshi’s wrist skeptically. “If it’s hurting you, it doesn’t matter if it’s not broken.” “I can still train.” Even to his own ears, he’s sounding a little hysterical. Logical, he reminds himself. Aizawa likes logical. He tamps down on his rising panic and a surprising, irrational flare of anger, and tries a different tack. “What if I get hurt on patrol when I’m a pro? Or in a fight? I’m going to need to learn to work around it.”

The key word for me in this section is 'surprising.' Shinsou doesn't really know why he's lashing out at Aizawa right now; he's aware, of course, that tensions have been running high at UA and beyond since the training camp disaster, the Kamino Incident, and All Might's retirement, but it's really hard in the moment to realize just how much that background anxiety is influencing his day-to-day thoughts and feelings. I talked about this a little in the end notes, but I really wanted to touch on that subtle, end-of-an-era anxiety in this fic, although I go back and forth on how effective I was at doing so.

It also feels relevant to mention that, in the wake of the All Might vs AFO fight & in spite of Aizawa's later comment about pain and injury being more temporary than ever due to quirks like Recovery Girl's, Shinsou's mind immediately goes to the idea of getting hurt and having no choice but to keep going, keep fighting, anyway.

Aizawa’s eyes narrow, his mouth a thin line. “You’re not a pro hero right now,” he says, a note of steel in his voice. “You’re a student—my student.” “Yeah, well,” Hitoshi says, clipped. “Your students get hurt all the time.” The words surprise him almost as much as they surprise Aizawa. Unnervingly, Hitoshi sees his surprise—a flicker across his face, fleeting but obvious in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. The regret hits him like a bus, flattens his own anger beneath its metaphorical tires, but it’s too late. Aizawa’s expression closes down faster than UA’s security wall when someone trips the alarm.

I REALLY LOVE THE UA SECURITY WALL METAPHOR. It's one of those things that I think both sets the tone & utilizes the setting at once--like, the first 'very fast thing' that this teenager would think of is the big metal wall that can spring up around his school at any given moment, just in case villains attack them. Again.

Also: surprised Pikachu Aizawa. I actually reblogged a post a couple days ago that featured surprised Aizawa dot gif, which is like. Kinda close to the expression I was picturing here lol. I feel like the key word 'surprising' thing applies here as well--Aizawa and Shinsou have settled into a certain rapport since they started training together, and this is definitely an out-of-character outburst that just so happens to relate to the thing Aizawa has definitely been beating himself up over for weeks, if not months. Fortunately, as Aizawa teaches teenagers, he's also pretty used to their outbursts.

“I didn’t mean—” he starts, but Aizawa cuts him off. “Recovery Girl,” he says. “Now.”

Shinsou very much interprets Aizawa's shortness here as anger, but really, this is the Let Aizawa Rest fic. We've talked before about how USJ and the training camp are like, Aizawa's worst fears made real, and now this man is just a big ball of exhaustion and validated paranoia dragging himself from life-and-death responsibility to life-and-death responsibility. Not only do I not really see him taking offense to what Shinsou said, but even if he did, he just. Doesn't have the energy to. The kid is right, after all :(

[bucktommypositivityweek]

we're so happy to announce the prompts for bucktommy positivity week, round two (running SEPTEMBER 15th-21st)! let's kick off season 8 with a lot of hype and positivity for their relationship!! see below for the prompts:

15th - make your own season 8 opening disaster

want to speculate on how the beenado will go? want to think up something totally different? want to write the action itself, or buck and tommy decompressing at home afterwards? anything goes, but the theme of the day is canon-type season opener!

16th - scenes from a fire truck

listen, we were all hyped about that picture of the 118 and 217's engines together. what bucktommy moments could be shared from those trucks? are they sharing a stolen kiss between them? are they checking texts from each other while on shift? is one of them visiting the others' station, or do they meet out on a call?

17th - missing moments

we all felt the shortened season in s7, so why don't we try filling in some of what we didn't get to see firsthand! is it the very first moment buck and tommy met? their interactions between the coffee date and the bachelor party? how they got from steamy wedding kiss to 'come home and be with your man' level of domestic? or even conversations they had about their relationship with other people in their lives? clue us in to something that didn't appear on our screens!!

18th - supportive boyfriends

it sounds like buck's gonna be dealing with a lot at the start of s8 - good thing he has his boyfriend to lean on! for this day we want to hear anything about how buck and tommy support each other through difficult times. providing distractions, giving advice, or cathartic bitching about terrible captains or exes? what kind of situations might we find them in where they need to lean on the other person - stressful, comedic, or more!

19th - coming out scenes

want to pick a different canon moment for buck and tommy's relationship to be revealed to their teams, friends and families? were they obvious at chimney's bachelor party, or did tommy miss the wedding and buck had to reveal it some other way later? or do you want to explore their coming out stories in an au fic? surprise us!

20th - epistolary

today we're shaking things up with a different format! we want to see your fics written via texts, letters, documents, or anything epistolary. will you show us a text convo between bucktommy? a series of letters while one of them away? phone call transcripts being requisitioned for some antics? an au where they meet via correspondence somehow? bring on the creative ideas!

21st - predict the future

the news is in, and bucktommy in s8 are officially going strong and getting to know each other better! for the final day, we want to hear anything about what you think we might see from their relationship in s8 - moving in conversations? a surprise elopement? or do you think they'll be moving slower, or dealing with roadblocks in their lives? your prediction can be real or silly, whatever you want, but let's get some hype going for all the potential of things we could see on our screens this upcoming season!!

and that's it! we can't wait to see all your amazing works next week. as a last reminder, you're welcome to share fic, headcanons/metas, art, or anything else you can think of, and interpret the prompts however is most fun for you! everything goes, as long as it's a positive interpretation of buck and tommy's relationship 🧡 see you next week!

[heauxvibez]

Dipsea 3 2/2

Warning: Smut (18+)

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with the key, struggling to fit it into the lock. The adrenaline made every move feel clumsy, your mind still completely consumed by what had just happened. Roman Reigns—the Roman Reigns—his smooth, rich voice, and his sweet, calm presence kept replaying in your thoughts, like a movie stuck on repeat. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you at the coffee shop, how his gaze alone commanded your attention.

You barely remembered the drive home. Everything after leaving the shop was a blur. Did you stop at all the red lights? Did you take the familiar streets or end up on the freeway without even realizing? You couldn’t even recall if you had left your half-finished latte behind or if it was still sitting in the cupholder in your car. It was like you were on autopilot, your body moving on its own while your mind was lost in the haze of him.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, the comforting scent of pine cones and cinnamon wrapped around you like your favorite fuzzy blanket. The warmth inside was a huge difference from the chilly air you had just escaped. It was like the heat itself was welcoming you home, reminding you of how cold it had gotten outside since you left the coffee shop. The sun, which had been shining brightly earlier, was slowly dipping toward the horizon, leaving the sky pretty shades of pink, purple, and orange. The colors lightly shined into your apartment through the balcony making it feel even more homey.

The drastic temperature shift wasn’t surprising—just another typical Los Angeles evening. The day had been warm and sunny as if summer hadn’t quite let go, but by evening, those familiar cool breezes had started creeping in, growing colder by the hour. It was one of those nights where you could feel the cold seeping through the cracks of the windows, but inside, it was all nice and cozy.

You kicked off your Ugg slippers without a second thought, leaving them by the front door, too tired to care about putting them on the shoe rack. They could wait. Your keys landed with a soft jingle on the hook, and you slung your work tote over the back of the nearest dining chair, its usual resting place after a long day.

You let out a deep sigh of relief and finally allowed yourself to relax. After everything, it felt good to be home. The suds clung to your skin as you massaged them over your body, the warm water cascading down like it did every night. You couldn’t help but hum in pleasure, letting the steam and heat relax you. This was always your favorite part of the day—the moment when you could wash away everything and just be. The familiar routine followed: a hot shower, then lotioning up from head to toe, followed by a some good food. Afterward, you'd curl up, rubbing your ankles together as you lost yourself in a good fanfic or binged something on Netflix. It was your perfect form of decompression.

Once you'd exfoliated every inch of your skin and eaten, the couch practically pulled you in. Your body was clean, your belly full, and you could already feel the comforting habit of rubbing your ankles together kicking in. But not yet. First, you needed your fill of him. You grabbed your phone and settled in, sitting upright with your back pressed into the cushion, while your legs stretched out comfortably on the L-shaped section of the couch.

Your oversized t-shirt draped loosely over your body, but tonight, there were no panties sliding down to pool around your ankles like usual. You didn’t want any restrictions, nothing to keep you from fully enjoying the moment. Tonight was about pure comfort, no barriers, just you, him, and the peace of being in your own space.

You opened the familiar app, your fingers moving without a thought as you headed straight to "My Library." There, at the very top, was his glowing image, standing out above all the other audios you sometimes enjoyed but never as much as his. Those others didn’t stand a chance anymore—they’d been permanently pushed to the background, ever since he started sharing himself with this app. He was all you craved.

You’d promised yourself you’d hold off for a few days, saving his audios for those especially tough times when you needed a guaranteed release. But after actually meeting him today there was no way you could wait. He was still in your mind, and the idea of hearing him now, after he’d touched you, was too tempting to resist. Now you couldn’t stop imagining what those muscular hands would feel like around your waist, how they might slide down to slip between your legs. Those hands pressing against your body, while his fingers—so perfectly manicured—teased your clit, playing you so delicately. Your skin tingled just thinking about it.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, "I left my damn AirPods in the car." You sucked your teeth and let out a frustrated huff, annoyed with yourself. The experience just wouldn’t be the same. You refused to settle for listening to him through your phone speaker—what was the point if his voice wasn’t fully enveloping you from both sides? And just playing his audio from your phone while it sat awkwardly on your chest? That was downright criminal. You wouldn’t be able to fully hear him, and it would be like having to say “Huh?” during sex—an absolute mood killer.

You looked over to the TV, eyes landing on the sound bar sitting beneath it on the stand. The corners of your lips curled into a small smile. Sure, it wasn’t the same as having him whisper directly into your ear, but hearing his voice fill the entire living room? That had its own appeal. You could already imagine it—the smooth sound of his voice surrounding you, echoing off the walls, wrapping around your body. Yeah, this was going to have you on fire. Maybe you wouldn’t feel him in your ears, but he’d still be everywhere.

Thank God for screen mirroring. The TV lit up, instantly reflecting the same images from your phone, and you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy as you rummaged through the app. Your eyes stayed focused, fingers tapping and swiping as you scrolled through until you found it—the playlist of seductive narration that always hit the right spot. You felt a bit nervous as your gaze fell on the next audio. You tapped "read more," and the description had you practically holding your breath.

Can you handle the sounds of Joe in your ear when he describes himself touching you? Click here to find out.

Something deep inside told you that this man was about to drive you insane. You could already feel it coming and weren’t sure if you were ready for what he had in store.

With a steadying inhale, you hit play, sinking deeper into the couch, shifting your hips forward to get more comfortable. The initial sound of his breathing filled the room through the sound bar, growing louder, surrounding you, drawing you in as he began setting the scene.

"It feels good having you here with me, ya know..." Damn, he sounded just like he did we he had completely grabbed your attention at the coffee shop earlier. It was just so alluring. "Your body right here against mine, your bare back to my bare chest, somehow fitting perfectly."

Your tongue slid across your bottom lip, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You placed your hands on your stomach, twiddling your fingers, trying to focus. You had a pretty good idea where this was going, but you weren’t about to jump the gun. If Joe wanted to see how well you listened, you were going to listen. From the last two audios, you’d learned that he liked to be in control, liked to take his time, and you were determined to follow his lead. No touching yourself yet—that much you knew.

At least, you hoped you were right.

"Your hips sit perfectly between my legs, ass pressed against me in the most tempting way. Fuck, if I didn’t have these sweats on, I’d be filling you up right now..."

Your lips pressed tightly together, trying to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape. It was silly, really—you were alone, in the comfort of your own home, with no one around to hear you. But something about the way he spoke, made you feel like he could sense you. Like he'd somehow know if you made a sound, and worse, punish you for it, scolding you for interrupting with your needy noises. So instead, your thighs pressed together, trying to stifle the growing arousal the same way you did that suppressed whimper.

"My hands begin to massage your shoulders, doing their best to melt away any knots that got my baby girl stressed. I want you to relax, my love."

You closed your eyes, easily imagining his hands working your shoulders from behind, slowly easing away the tension as you sat nestled between his legs in his favorite recliner. In your mind, you could feel the firm grip of his fingers, kneading at your muscles, just as he described. Your body, propped up much like it was now, except this time, he was there behind you, doing all the work.

"Both of my hands slowly make their way down your arms, as if they're trying to smooth away the goosebumps rising on your skin. Goddamn, I got this effect on you, baby?"

You could practically feel the slow touch of his hands gliding down your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their path. The goosebumps rising on your skin, as if your body was physically reacting to his words alone. Your imagination was coming to life.

And yeah, he definitely had that effect on you. There was no denying it.

"Hell yes," you whispered into the air, "You just have no fucking clue," you moaned squeezing your thighs a bit tighter. You were no longer playing with your fingers but now fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your fingers so desperately wanted to play with something.

"Mmm, I can tell. I love that I can make you crumble like this." his chuckles thrummed through the speaker and right into your chest, "Fucking weak for me like always."

"Ssss," he sucked air through his teeth, "My hands glide right back up your arms, across your shoulders, down your back, then under your arms, moving deliberately toward your breasts. Your soft skin melts into my hands—so smooth, so supple, so perfectly moisturized. It’s like your body is made for my touch." He let out a low moan, the sound cutting through the air.

"The scent of your body lingers around us—shea butter and vanilla—it’s intoxicating. You smell exactly how you look, baby. Appetizing. Ready to be devoured… every last bit of you."

You could hear him inhale deeply followed by a slow exhale. "And the smell of your juices, fuck… it’s in the air too. That mouth-watering scent I never get tired of."

Your own hands slid under your shirt, moving to your breasts, following his lead, mimicking the actions he described.

"I grab your breasts into my hands," his voice continued, painting the scene in vivid detail, "massaging them slowly, working in gentle circles, my fingers grazing inward. Your nipples slip between my fingertips with each caress, becoming the most beautiful kind of collateral damage."

The phantom sensation of his hands moved just as your own were. He made it feel so real.

Whimpers escaped your lips as you followed along, your hands moving to capture your breasts just as he described. Your fingers spread wide before closing in, applying slow, tender pinches that turn you on more than possible. Muscle memory kicked in, and you imagined it wasn’t your own hands but his working over your skin, making your nipples pebble and harden more with every stroke. You remembered exactly what they felt like. You could feel him there, touching you so intimately.

"I start placing slow, sensual kisses against the nape of your neck," his voice rumbled through the speakers, "As if it’s my way of softening the roughness of my hold on you. My lips sink into your skin just like my hands do."

The sound of soft kissing echoed through the room, your skin tingling as the scene played out in your head. It felt so real, the warmth of his breath against your neck, the slow press of his lips against your skin. Goosebumps rose on your arms as you imagined it, "Skin so soft, so pretty—just like you, baby girl."

You heard one kiss, then another, then another.

"The hairs of my mustache brush against the coiling curls near your ear," his voice continued, "I couldn’t help but kiss those too. You always say how much you hate the texture of your hair, but I love it. It always reminds me of how deeply you're rooted—"

Your heart fluttered at that, the tender detail of him appreciating the very thing you’d actually often criticized about yourself. It made the everything feel a bit more real. You imagined his lips brushing against your coils, kissing them softly, making you feel cherished.

"Reminds me of how deep your skin is," he murmured.

"Rich,"

"Chocolate," he whispered, his lips sounded like they were brushing against your skin.

"Beautiful," he finished, each word followed by another tender kiss, the sounds echoed.

"My kisses descend from your neck to your shoulder and then back up again," he continued, "I can feel you molding against me, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Little gasps escape your lips as you're falling apart—overstimulated, frustrated. You want to be touched so bad, don’t you?"

You were panting softly, those gentle breaths gradually getting a bit more intense. Your hands were still teasingly playing with your breasts. You gave a quick, desperate nod, your hair bouncing against your forehead as you did so.

"I know, mama. Daddy is going to give you exactly what you want, you deserve it."

"My left-hand keeps grasping your breast, fingers teasing your nipple, feeling it harden between my thumb and middle finger. It feels so good under my touch. My right-hand starts its slow journey down your stomach, savoring every inch, fully aware that your slick folds are my ultimate destination. I leisurely trace a path, enjoying the torture you must be going through.

As I reach your navel, I draw light circles around it, knowing just how sensitive you are there. I can feel your body shiver at my touch,"

Your fingertips follow along, drawing slow circles right where he is. Each little motion makes your clit pulse. You can feel your juices trickling down your slit, soaking into the fabric of your t-shirt beneath you. You've never wanted to touch yourself so badly.

"My middle finger glides right above your clit, making those same small circles with just the right amount of pressure—enough to get you worked up but not quite enough to leave you fully satisfied. It keeps you writhing beneath me, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you beg for more. Shit." he moans, his voice sending you to the moon.

"I might just nut from doing this to you, baby." He mumbles, he was starting to sound needy.

"My finger slips through your folds, effortlessly separating your lips and sinking deep into your pussy. Mmm, you're so tight, so warm, and so fucking wet for me. I pull it out, relishing the sensation, and then push it back in, this time going deeper. I can feel every little shudder and clench around my finger, and I go deep enough that I graze that spot inside you that makes you gasp. You try to hunch forward instinctively, chasing the sensation, but my grip on your chest keeps you stable, pulling you close to me, making sure you can feel every little thing."

The sounds of wetness fill the air, mixing with the sounds from the audio. Your fingers are deep inside your pussy now, moving in time, mimicking the pace perfectly.

"I just know you're losing it, baby," he murmurs, "My hair dangling against your skin, brushing softly as I lean in closer. My lips trail along your neck, kissing and teasing, while my fingers twist and turn around your sensitive bud. I’m fucking you with my fingers, curling and curving just right as I press against that sweet spot that drives you wild. I know it’s making you crazy, mama, that desperate need for more, for deeper, for everything."

"I know this shit is making your heart flutter," sloosh.

"I know this shit is making you question why I'm doing you like this," sloosh.

"I know this shit is overstimulating the fuck out of you," sloosh.

With each sentence, your fingers dig deeper, pushing you closer and closer. He wasn’t lying—he was talking you through it, and you were losing yourself, drowning in the wave of his words.

“I pull my finger out, watching your juices cling to it, glistening and thick. The further I pull away, the thinner the string becomes, stretching between us. We both just stare at it, like it’s got us hypnotized. It’s mesmerizin', ain't it?” His voice dipped lower, “I’ve been craving this, been too long since I’ve had you like this… and now, I can’t resist anymore.”

"I bring my finger to my mouth, lips wrapping around it slowly, teasingly. Mmm,” he groaned softly, as if he was savoring the taste. “Daddy’s been thinking about tasting you all day, princess. You taste so fucking good, like the sweetest thing I’ve ever had. Can’t get enough.” his words made your body ache for him.

With a soft chuckle, his voice came in closer. “Here, baby girl... just open up for me.”

You bring your finger to your mouth, savoring the taste, and let out a soft moan just like he had when your essence 'brushed against his palate'. The sweet, thick juices coat your tongue, warm and silky as they spread across your taste buds.

“You taste so fucking good, don’t you?” he teases with a smirk you could hear so clearly. The way he says it makes your skin heat up, and you can almost picture the way his lips are curling, just like they did earlier when he was looking at you.

You moaned in agreement. "Now it's your turn baby. I want you to put your fingers in this time. Let's see how long you last listening to Daddy moan in your ear..."

Your fingers slid through your wetness, middle, and ring finger working together as they moved in and out, curling slightly as you explored for that sweet spot. The soft, silky walls of your body hugged them perfectly, the strokes drawing out the knots in your belly as you continued to tease yourself.

“So soft and warm, ain’t it?” he asked, “Fuck, yesss,” you whispered breathlessly, sinking even deeper into the feeling. Your chest and stomach twisting from his voice and the way your body responded. “Shit feels good, don’t it?” he groaned, his voice rough, “Now you get why I never want to escape from being buried deep between those legs. It’s like a trap… those sweet, soft, gushy walls just pull me in, every.fucking.time.” His words came out through clenched teeth.. well, you just knew they were from the way he sounded and it was driving you absolutely insane at the thought of it.

You could feel your juices pooling beneath you, gathering at the curve of your ass, the fabric of your shirt barely holding it back. You knew it was already seeping into the couch, creating a mess you’d deal with later, but right now, that was the last thing on your mind.

“Look at it, baby,” he rasped. His breath hitched as if he could feel everything with you. You obeyed, your eyes locked on the sight of your glistening fingers, coated in your own wetness, moving slowly, as if you were savoring the moment with him.

“That’s it, princess,” he growled softly, “so fucking beautiful. Just like that, nice and slow.” your pussy pulsed with need. You imagined him right there with you, eyes dark as he watched you unravel.

His moans grew deeper, more ragged, and you matched the rhythm with your fingers. “Shit,” he groaned, “feel you dripping for me. Keep going, baby girl, don’t stop. You’re doing so good for me.”

Your breath was becoming more labored, each stroke of your palm against your clit pushing you closer to the edge. The way he spoke, the groans, the shaky breath, all of it made you sink deeper into the cushions of your couch. His voice alone could bring you over and over and over. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, his final words tipped you over the edge.

“Now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice a soft command, “cum for me. Let me hear how sweet you sound when you fall apart.”

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

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld @mzv11

@tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee @sayyestoheav3nn

[icaruspendragon]

I got tagged in one of those "get to know me" tag games back in 2021 and I wanna see how 2024 me's answers compare!

2021:

1. Nickname: berk

2. Zodiac: Gemini

3. Height: 5’4

4. hogwarts house: it’s been years since I last took the test, but Gryffindor

5. Last thing I googled: yellow wallpaper. The short story haha.

6. Song stuck in my head: movement by hozier

7. Number of followers: 1021

8. Amount of sleep: 4ish hours recently

9. Lucky number: I don’t think I have one but my favorite is 27

10. Dream job: something where I get to help people

11. Wearing: mom jeans, black turtleneck, gray quater zip for the university of Mississippi chapter of delta gamma. Thrift store finds, ya know?

12. Favorite author: Kurt Vonnegut

13. Favorite instrument: cello

14. Aesthetic: someone once told me that I looked like “every kind of lesbian.” So whatever that means.

15. Favorite song: uhh, currently it’s probably “would that i” by hozier

16. Favorite animal noise: kitty cat purrs

17. Random: today at work some lady told me that everytime she comes in she looks for me because I make the best drinks. I haven’t stopped smiling bc of that :’)

2024:

1. Nickname: berk, professor alpha

2. Zodiac: gemini

3. Height: 5’4

4. hogwarts house: once again it's been years since i last took it, but my result that time was slytherin

5. Last thing I googled: "how does a pipe bomb work? I'm not gonna make one I'm just curious /gen"

6. Song stuck in my head: nothing at the moment, but according to receiptify my top ten most listened to songs for November so far are:

man or muppet - jason segel, walter

blue sky & the painter - bastille

marie & polonium - bastille

intros & narrators - bastille

eve & paradise lost - bastille

red wine & wilde - bastille

seasons & narcissus - bastille

fratelli d'italia - this is the italian national anthem lmao

the rattlin bog - seamus kennedy

nobody's soldier - hozier

7. Number of followers: 14,841

8. Amount of sleep: not enough

9. Lucky number: my original answer still stands. big fan of 27 still, too.

10. Dream job: I don't dream of being a laborer, but I still very much want to something that helps people.

11. Wearing: biker shorts and a 2024 gran premio dell'emilia romagna crewneck. welcome back princess diana

12. Favorite author: opal_bullets of ao3 fame

13. Favorite instrument: banjo

14. Aesthetic: on a spectrum that goes from academic queer to refined-button-up bisexual

15. Favorite song: it changes somewhat often. my all time favorite is icarus by bastille but my current is the don reno version of feudin' banjos

16. Favorite animal noise: when my cat groans like she's a blue-collar dad whose long day at work and just wants to decompress in his recliner

17. Random: I was very brave and also very sexy and I decided to go back to school after dropping out at the end of my senior years four years ago and I registered for classes this week and I am not going to let myself self sabotage and quit before I've even started because of anxiety-driven-fear-of-the-unkown-control-issues because it's okay to be scared. you just can't let that stop you and I'm done letting it stop me !!!

[majesty-madness]

Back Then - Husband!Sebastian Sallow x Wife!reader (sfw)

Summary: As the first week of marriage comes to a close inside they’re new home, Y/N can’t help but to think back on the old days. 

Word Count: 1300+

Warnings: slight angst, kissing, newly married Sebastian & reader, mostly fluff, a bit of suggestive content (like one joke, and the ending)

a/n: Not proofread. Fucking love this game (perhaps a bit too much).

Main Masterlist

It’s night out, Y/N stands in the lamp lighted bedroom, staring out the window overlooking the front garden. She can hear the crickets chirping outside and the fireflies are in full bloom in the darkened night. She’s already dressed herself in her white nightgown, the material soft on her skin. 

Though she stood in the house she shared with her husband, her mind wandered back in time when she met him for the very first time. It had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, learning to duel with an opponent, and the words “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome” caused a soft chuckle to slip past her lips. 

Even though he sounded overconfident, his words made her giddy with excitement and then she’d won. She had surprised herself when she managed to pull that off. And when he walked up to her she was expecting a snarky remark or perhaps a nasty comment but he’d said, “You give as good as you get.” He also smirked playfully at her before walking away and she couldn’t deny the way his words caused a flurry of warmth to rush to her cheeks back then. 

As soon as they’d met, she knew she was done for. 

Again a laugh escaped her and without her knowledge her husband had come back to their bedroom, fresh from his bath. Sebastian stared lovingly as he watched his beautiful wife laugh quietly to herself. 

Throwing the towel he just used to dry his hair onto a nearby chair, he silently approached his wife from behind and when he was close enough to gently wrap his arms around her waist she didn’t flinch or jump away, instead she pressed her back against his chest as she melted into his warmth. 

“What are you laughing about?” Sebastian asked, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of her neck. 

She smiled in return, “I was just thinking about the first time we met.” 

Sebastian hummed back at her answer, pressing several other kisses into her skin. “Mmhm, we met in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, we dueled each other, remember?” 

Sebastian scoffed, “How could I forget the moment I met the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?” 

This caused both of them to laugh at the playful comment before Y/N continued. “I remember you walking up to me, saying ‘Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome,’ very confident of you I must say.” 

“Well I had a reputation to uphold.” Sebastian reasoned. 

This time Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, and as I recall I swept that reputation right from underneath you.” 

“That wouldn’t be the last time I was underneath you.” 

Y/N gasped then slapped him on the arm, causing him to burrow into her neck once more with a laugh. “Don’t be so crude, I was reminiscing about school.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, darling.” Sebastian half-heartedly apologized although he meant no such thing. 

There was a pause as the two of them listened to the crickets outside, both taking a deep breath and feeling each other decompress in their exhale. 

“I didn’t realize it then, but that was the start of so many things.” Y/N uttered fondly, oblivious to Sebastian’s sudden frown. 

“The start of so many mistakes.” Sebastian spoke softly, almost repeating Y/N’s exact words.

Only turning her head, Y/N stared up at Sebastian as she observed his expression. “Don't do that to yourself.” 

He couldn’t help but to shake his head. “I can’t help thinking about it all. The desperation, the anger, the betrayal; I wished we had met in different circumstances then perhaps our fifth year together might have been normal.”

“Sebastian…” Y/N huffed, the makings of a smirk spreading across her lips. “I was entering Hogwarts for the first time as a fifth year student who could see traces of an ancient magic, who would complete these trails created by wizards from long ago to see their memories and ended up fighting a goblin turned dragon before the year ended.” 

Sebastian looked down to see his wife smirking. “Regardless of how we met, our fifth year was never going to be normal.” 

Just like that the dark thoughts whirling in were cast away by Y/N’s light hearted humor, and it didn’t hurt that she was absolutely correct. 

He let out a deep root laugh, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck once more and began to gently sway her in his arms. “I suppose you’re right, darling. And I believe that even if my situation hadn’t been what it was, we would’ve met eventually anyhow.” 

Y/N pulled away a bit only to turn to face him while still in his embrace, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. “Call it fate. Someone had to keep an eye on you.”

“Well I’m glad to have had your company, Mrs. Sallow, even if it was to keep me out of trouble.” 

“To be fair, I didn’t do a very good job at it.” 

Tightening his hold around her back, he pressed Y/N further into his chest. “True. Probably wasn’t the wisest to send the ancient magic prodigy to babysit a no good scoundrel.”

He said it like it was a joke, but the regret quickly filling his eyes didn’t fool Y/N. Her expression fell into that of compassion and without thinking, she brought her hand up to softly caress the underside of his jaw. 

“Hey now..” The words barely a whisper as she spoke. “I love you and despite it all, I’m glad that I met you. I’ve never had any regrets about that so you shouldn’t either.”

“I love you too.” Was all he said then leaned in to plant a tender kiss to Y/N’s lips. First it was the soft, overly gentle kiss that most new couples share in moments of vulnerability but seamlessly turned deeper, passionate. The heat of lust rising within and fanning the flames of love that survived the hardships promised to every living being. 

Their hands began to wander over the familiar plane of their partner, taking note of the thumping heartbeat and the sudden warmth enveloping the skin. They continued this memorized dance for several more seconds, pulling away only when the need to air outweighed the need for the other. A light panting exchanged between the two when Y/N’s eyes had left Sebastian’s for just a moment to stare at the bed. 

“The sheets…” She breathlessly uttered. 

His brow furrowed slightly. “What about them?”

She looked back at him. “They’re new.”

“And?”

Y/N brought her hands to seductively fiddle with the two tops buttons of Sebastain’s nightshirt, only to finally unbutton them completely. “Annnd,” she let the word roll on her tongue for longer than necessary, “I think that it’s time that we break them in, see how they hold up.”

She could almost see the ways his eyes darkened at the promiscuous suggestion though he chuckled despite the heat growing in his groin. “Good idea, darling, it’s best we make good use of the new house. See what we can get away with.”

Sebastian had let his hand drift from her back over the plump flesh of her bottom, giving her rear a small squeeze and suddenly lowering his hands to the back of her thighs to lift her up into the air. Y/N let out a gasp at the motion with a sweet giggle bursting from her throat right after as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her towards their bed. She gave him a few pecks on lips, continuing to do so even as her back was lowered to the plush material of the mattress. 

For the remainder of the evening, Y/N and Sebastian got lost in each other’s touch; not sure where one ended and the other began. And into the late hours of the night, Y/N couldn’t help reminiscing on how much her life had changed. 

Through all the pain, the battles, the injuries, and broken hearts, Y/N would always be thankful that she met the trouble making fifth year: Sebastian Sallow, a good friend and the love of her life.

[piarelei]

Training hop

Here's an angsty one, with some platonic Javy & Jake time. Can also be read as a sequel to Bullseye.

The moment Jake’s feet hit the tarmac, he knew he was in for a Bad One. He carried the anticipation of it in his shoulders, trying to roll it off his back but not succeeding. 

The sight of Bradley had him unfamiliarly wanting to turn right around, back to the cockpit and the welcoming chasm of the skies. He tipped back his head instead, all bravado and no guilt. 

Bradley had the decency to wait for them to be left alone. He didn’t have to wait a very long time: other aviators were staring Jake down with no small amount of disgust on their face. He didn’t let it get to him. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

Jake shrugged, walking lazily to the locker rooms. “Completed the hop, didn’t I?” 

Bradley pulled at his shoulder, turning him so that they were face to face. “You nearly killed Oslo.” 

“No. I simply flew my best, as usual. It’s not my fault if she’s not fast enough.” 

Bradley gritted his teeth. “What the fuck, Hangman?”

Jake shrugged him off. “I don’t even see how that fucking concern you, Bradshaw.” 

“You don’t see?” Bradley looked over his shoulder. “We are dating, asshole.”

“Yeah. And?” 

“And? Well, I don’t know. I thought maybe you had fucking changed, for one.” 

Jake had to swallow the impulse to bare his teeth. “You think that because I get my dick sucked on the regular, I’m going to lower my standards?” 

Bradley frowned. “I just thought you were not such a fucking asshole anymore. I guess I was wrong.” 

“I guess you were.” 

“I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to be a decent human being.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” 

“Right. Well. I don’t…” Bradley swallowed. “I don’t think you should come over tonight.” 

Jake went cold all over, hot flames put out by ice. “What does that fucking mean?”

Bradley took a step back, crossing his arms, stubborn. “That means that I don’t want to fucking see you tonight.”

Jake inhaled, trying to appease the sudden bruise under his ribs. “Alright. Whatever.” 

He turned and went to the locker room quickly. He didn’t want Bradley to hold him back. He didn’t want to hear the silence if he didn’t. 

#

Javy opened the door with a defeated face. “Well, at least you coordinated properly for once. Nat just left for Bradshaw’s.”

Jake grunted and pushed in, beer pack in hand. Javy simply followed him to the living room. They settled on the couch, Javy got the TV on, a non-sense rom com with fake laughing tracks, and opened two beers. Jake sipped on his first one for a good ten minutes, not seeing or hearing anything from the TV. 

“Right,” Javy said, sort of exasperated. “Get it out of your head or we’ll never get it over with.” 

Jake thought about it, then, shook his head. He had no idea where to even start.

“Okay, you know what, I think I know you enough to get the crux of it. You were an asshole while flying and Bradshaw lives in a fantasy where you’re suddenly nice to everyone and couldn’t handle it.”

Jake shrugged. 

“Well, break up with him.”

Jake turned to Javy, daggers in his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Yes, actually. I am kidding you. God. Are you ready to talk?” 

Jake scoffed. 

“Right. So I guess I was right about things?” 

Jake nodded, making a face. 

“Okay. He’ll calm down.”

“But what is the fucking point of it, Javy? I’m not going to change.” 

Javy snorted. At Jake’s uncomprehending eyes, he leaned forward. “You already have, man. It’s fucking awful to witness, but you’re so much chiller now. You use to lose it all the fucking time on your wingmen. You never forgave small mistakes. Now? Shit, I’ve seen you give second, third chances.”

Jake took a sip of his beer. It tasted more bitter than usual. “I’m going soft. That’s not a good thing.” 

“Yeah, shut up, you’re still the best. You don’t have to be an asshole about it. Come on, no point to dwell on it. Bradshaw had always been so fucking angry all the time. Give him time to decompress. You can talk about it then.” 

Javy was the voice of reason. He plied Jake with a beer, then a second, then a third, until the world around was just cotton-soft. Jake let himself slide on the couch sideways, face smashed into Javy’s shoulder. 

A few hours later, the door opened and Javy had a hushed conversation Jake didn’t bother to listen to. He should have because a few seconds later, Bradley appeared in his line of sight, looking contrite. 

“Can I take you home, Jake?” No Hangman. 

Jake unsteadily rose to his feet. Bradley reached out to help him. Jake bid a quick goodbye to Javy and Natasha, already too focused on Bradley. 

The Bronco rumbled under them when Bradley started it. Jake sighed, slumping against the window. 

“I was an asshole today,” Jake admitted. 

When Bradley didn’t answer immediately, Jake turned his head to watch him. The streetlights were washing him in shades of yellow. 

“Sometimes,” Bradley started with some apparent difficulty, “I’m scared that the wingman that you leave behind is what is going to kill you.” 

Jake reached out slowly, trying to assess if he was welcome. “I’ll never let that happen.” 

Bradley grasped for his hand. “You won’t have a choice in the matter. There’s strength in numbers, Jake. I wish you would realize that.” 

Jake squeezed Bradley’s hand. “I do. I… I’m the asshole I am during exercise hops because I need everyone to be their best when we face the real deal.” 

“I know.” 

“Well…”

“I know, Jake. But I’m scared that one day people will hate you too much to go back for you.” 

Jake inhaled, kept his lungs full with his anxiety, until he let it all out slowly. “I’ll be retired the moment I fall behind.” 

Bradley shook his head, sighed. “I guess we’ll never agree on that.” 

“We don’t have to. You just have to trust me.”

Bradley shook his head. “We can compromise tomorrow. I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed before we talk about it again.” 

Jake nodded. “Are you dropping me off at mine?” 

Bradley gave him a glance, almost hesitant. “I would like you to go back to mine if that’s alright with you.”

Jake stared at the road ahead, feeling quietly pleased. “Sure.” 

Later, with Bradley curled all around him too warm and heavy, Jake thought that he would be willing to wear his standards down to the floor if it meant that he could keep this. He didn’t say it aloud in the morning, but he was sure that Bradley could tell.

Barely reread the thing, so my bad if there's any mistake. Hope you enjoyed, show some love with a reblog ��

[brucewaynehater101]

every family has a secret stoner and i absolutely need your opinion on who you think the stoner of the batfam is, like,,,,,, who’s sneaking away at thanksgiving to light up?? do they smoke together?? is it an open secret or does nobody know about them smoking??

I just... I need a sec. Y'all's family hides that shit? I kid ya not, my mom's offered me gummies, one of my siblings has a weed desk, and my father swore he'd constantly be smoking as soon as he retires. My other siblings' partner did weed a lot too.

I don't really like weed for myself (the lack of control freaks me out and I've had a few bad trips), but at least one of my siblings very openly uses weed often lmao.

I got off track. Whoops. Anyways, Dick. Dick 100% does weed. It helps with his anxiety and anger (also Discowing).

When Dick "sneaks out" to smoke, some of the others join him. Jason is always there regardless if he's taking a hit, smoking a cigarette, or just taking a moment away from Bruce (Bruce is rarely welcome during these moments. It's more of a sibling thing).

Steph probably bakes brownies and has a weed stash in Tim's room. She'll occasionally join them, but not always. She's usually hanging around Cass, Duke, Tim, or Damian.

Now... I adore the stoner Tim au. It's hilarious and great. For this post, there's two options for Tim.

If he's a stoner, then Dick didn't find out until a hilariously late time. Dick is reasonably upset that he found out so late when it's another way for Tim and him to bond.

If he's not, I'd hc him to be closer to how I feel about it. He's chill with other who do it, but doesn't like the way it fucks with his control, awareness, and ability to think. Instead, he'd rather drink alcohol.

Hmm... I'm curious how weed, alcohol, or substances would interact with Cass's ability to read body language. If it makes it harder or lessens the amount of signals she perceives, this could either freak her out or give her brain a break.

Funny answer for Cass is that she does a *shit* ton of weed and somehow manages to hide it from everyone but those she's told (maybe Steph and Tim?)

I need to learn more about Duke. Until I know otherwise, let's say that he occasionally does it for fun with friends or a batfam member, but usually refrains.

Damian is a kid. Maybe when he's older, he takes a night off every month or so to decompress with the help of weed.

Alfred does weed too. How the fuck else is he supposed to deal with all the stress of the Bats? He'll go out to "tend the garden" which is code for "leave him the fuck alone so he can de-stress and smoke."

Bruce might every once in a while, but he stopped heavy usage when he put on the cowl.

The whole batfam knows and is chill with weed. The substance they do hide, however, is alcohol. Some members have trauma and shit with alcohol. This means the others try not to consume alcohol around those members and obscure their alcohol consumption in general. Whether those with alcohol trauma consume alcohol as well, the others still refrain in front of them.

I can't believe I forgot Barbara! She probably does weed to help with her pain

[sapphicromanoffxo]

Picnic Date | n.r. x w.m

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Natasha has a penis, beefy Nat, outdoor sex, blow job, fingering

Word count: 2,296

Summary: After being on back to back missions for weeks, Natasha decided to have a little picnic with her girlfriend.

A/N: I know it's just supposed to be a drabble request but...yeah. ✌️

╰┈➤ Masterlist

Natasha had become utterly drained from a relentless string of missions that she's being sent to and was desperate for some rest. Wanda, witnessing Natasha's exhaustion, did her best to comfort her every time she returned home for a brief mission break. However , Wanda was getting impatient because she missed spending time with her love. It had been two whole months without any intimate moments, and it was making her very upset.

Summer had come to New York, and Natasha finally got the break she deserved. She had a whole month off, and she planned to use it to be with her magical girlfriend. So, she thought it would be nice to have a picnic date to relax to welcome the season and spend time together.

Truth be told, Natasha was acutely aware of Wanda's pent-up desires. It became abundantly clear when Wanda practically pounced on her the moment she stepped out from the quinjet, their lips meeting in a fierce and passionate kiss. Natasha welcomed the fiery embrace, but she also realised that Wanda's desires were on the brink of overwhelming her. Wanda's hands roamed freely, and Natasha found herself struggling to calm the eager witch.

"Detka, relax. I'm back now, alright? I'm not going anywhere," Natasha reassured Wanda, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

"You've been away for so long. I've been missing you so badly, baby," Wanda whispered, her eyes filled with longing.

"I understand, detka," Natasha said, gently stroking Wanda's hair. "But can I at least take a quick shower and get some sleep? I promise I'll make it up to you."

Wanda pouted but nodded in agreement, understanding that the spy needed some time to decompress and rest. She knew their moments together would come, and she eagerly awaited the time when Natasha would be all hers once again. But damn her hormones. She was already vibrating with need since Natasha left a clear instruction to not touch herself.

Natasha had returned home three days ago, and Wanda is still untouched. The witch found herself in a constant battle to keep her desires at bay, and the wait was becoming maddeningly frustrating.

Wanda was even perplexed when Natasha suggested they go on a picnic date. Wanda couldn't help but wonder why her lover, who had been away for so long, would choose a picnic over a lazy afternoon where they can have sex all day long.

"Natasha! I don't want to go on a picnic date. I want to be be fucked. That's it."

Expecting this reaction from Wanda, Natasha let out a sigh and gently touched her girlfriend's cheek. "Hey, I made a promise that I'll make it up to you," she began, her voice filled with sincerity. "But can we just enjoy this beautiful new season together? Besides, I've been stuck in Siberia for a whole week, freezing to death, and right now, I need some warmth in my body."

Wanda couldn't resist a playful grin at Natasha's words. "Oh, I can warm you up very nicely, you know," she teased.

Natasha chuckled, her eyes dancing with a mixture of desire and amusement. "I'm fully aware of that," she replied with a wink. "Now, do me a favor, and wear that cute dress I got for you in Italy. I'll start preparing our food for this afternoon."

With a gentle kiss on Wanda's forehead, Natasha left their room and made her way to the kitchen. She was determined to create a memorable picnic experience for them. She began by frying marinated chicken breasts, ensuring she got her much-needed protein after her time in Siberia. Meanwhile, she checked on the blueberry cheesecake she had prepared the night before. The sight of the luscious dessert made her anticipate the picnic even more, knowing that their meal would be both delicious and delightful.

Natasha had meticulously packed a selection of chocolates, knowing that Wanda had an undeniable sweet tooth. She also included a few of Wanda's favorite snacks. Natasha had taken the time to ensure that their drinks were just right. There was a bottle of red wine for Wanda, her indulgence of choice, and a carbonated drink for herself. Natasha knew that a glass or two of wine had the power to unleash Wanda's playful and mischievous side. She had every intention of pushing Wanda to her limits during their date, teasing her until she's feeling too desperate. In reality, this seemingly innocent picnic date was just a cover for what she had planned.

Hand in hand, the two of them ventured into the woods of the compound, following a secluded trail that would lead them to their secret spot. Natasha had made sure that no prying eyes could spot them, as she had something rather scandalous in mind.

Once they reached their chosen location, Wanda set up the blanket and eagerly unloaded the contents of the basket Natasha had brought. She couldn't help but admit that this date was turning out to be much better than expected. Seeing Natasha so relaxed and laid-back was a rare and delightful sight.

Natasha found a comfortable spot with her back resting against the sturdy tree trunk, the rough bark serving as a natural support. She extended her legs, creating a welcoming space where Wanda lay down.

They shared stories of what they did when they were not together, occasionally stealing bites from each other's food.

Natasha's fingers are gently toying with the strands of Wanda's hair. With a playful curiosity in her voice, she inquired, "How come your hair color is now almost blonde?"

Wanda couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Sam was so bored one evening and decided it would be a fantastic idea to dye my hair. Vision was there to supervise the whole thing. It turned out to be so damn funny."

"It looks good on you, baby. You're so gorgeous."

Then suddenly, Natasha's hands groped Wanda's boobs since the dress was showing off her bouncy cleavage and could not resist anymore.

"Sweetheart, you look so good in this dress. Your tits looks delicious as fuck. I can bury my face in there all day. You are not even wearing a bra. What a bad girl, you are."

"Natasha, you have been teasing me for too long." Wanda whimpers every time the redhead pinches her nipples.

"I know you love it when I tease you like this. I bet you are already wet for me," Natasha continued kneading Wanda tits while playing with her nipples which are now fully exposed. Natasha leaned down to plant kisses on Wanda's shoulder blade and the right side of her neck, leaving a few hickeys behind.

"Baby, sit on my lap. I want to see you."

Wanda obeyed Natasha's wish and the spy already had her palm up, ready to cup the witch's throbbing center.

"My, my. You are not also wearing your panties," Natasha groaned when she felt that Wanda was already dripping wet and circled the sensitive clit. "Were you expecting this to happen, huh?"

"Natasha! Please. Stop torturing me like this." Wanda leaned down and kissed Natasha desperately, her moans being swallowed by the kiss.

"I will fuck you good, Wanda." And the witch screamed when she felt two fingers enter her with no warning.

"Oh my god, Natasha! That feels good baby, keep going."

"Quiet down for me, princess. You don't want the others to hear like this? Or would you like to let them see how desperate you are for me? Riding my fingers like it's your damn job."

"No no no. Only you can see me like this. Ah!"

Natasha's curled fingers are going in and out harshly, hitting Wanda's g-spot perfectly. "You're so good for me like this, Wanda." She added another finger and Wanda's moans are getting louder at each thrust of her fingers.

"Love, fuck. I'm going to cum. Please let me cum!"

"Cum anytime you want, baby." With that, Wanda's orgasm flooded her senses at a rate which was too overwhelming and made her body collapse atop Natasha.

"I've got you. I'm here, baby. Deep breaths for me."

It took a minute for Wanda's erratic heart to calm down. She finally had her release that she's been craving for months. "I love you, Natty."

"You always say that everytime I make you cum." Natasha smirks at Wanda's blissful face. They made out for a while and Wanda noticed the bulge on Natasha's crotch.

"Let me take care of this now, baby. Please?"

Wanda decided to unravel the layers of Natasha's upper clothes. She reached for the zipper of Natasha's leather jacket, tugging it down with deliberate slowness, revealing a black tank top underneath. Natasha's breath hitched, her eyes locked onto Wanda's.With the jacket now partially open, Wanda slipped her hands inside, running her palms along Natasha's biceps. Each touch was filled with tenderness and desire, making Natasha's heart race. The jacket slid off Natasha's shoulders.

"Put your mouth on me, Princess."

Wanda changed her position and was kneeling sideways. She carefully pulled down Natasha's pants and her hard cock sprung out proudly. The spy reached Wanda's exposed ass and gave a good slap on her buttcheck.

"Suck me off now, detka. Go on."

Wanda almost rolled her eyes at Natasha's impatience but just simply leaned down to take the whole length in her mouth. Her mouth feels so warm and Natasha gathered Wanda's hair in her hands

"That's good, baby. Nice and slow for me."

Wanda continued sucking Natasha's length but was suddenly stopped by the spy. "Ride me, baby. Reverse cowgirl, yes?"

This position is one of Wanda's favorite. She can already anticipate how Natasha is going to fill her up from behind. She trusts that Natasha will be able to hold her weight since her girlfriend has muscles for days. The stretch in her walls was so satisfying as she sank down. "Oh god, love. You feel so good inside me."

"Uh-huh. You've been a good girl for me, Wanda. It's time for me to properly fuck you. Lean back."

Wanda did as she's told and Natasha planted her feet on the ground to stabilise herself and gripped on Wanda's hips.

"Natasha, please move."

"As you wish, Princess."

The redhead started her thrust slowly, feeling how Wanda's heated core is clenching on her cock. The tightness of her pussy is so addicting. Hearing her girlfriend moaning her name pushed her to pound from below.

"Yes! Right there, right there! Please don't stop!"

"I miss this pussy so much. You're all I think about whenever I'm away." Natasha reached down and played with Wanda's clit. Wanda whined even more for the added sensation.

"Natasha, baby. I want to see your face. Please."

They changed their position again and now, Wanda is laying down on the blanket and Natasha on top of her. Wanda immediately wrapped her legs around Natasha's waist.

The spy didn't waste anymore seconds and penetrated Wanda with so much force. "Baby, you're so tight. Jesus, I'm not going to last long."

"I'm close. I'm close! Please go faster!" Wanda clawed Natasha's arms as the older woman pounded her from above.

"Ahhh shit! Wanda, Wanda!" Natasha pulled out after a while and felt proud of herself when she saw how Wanda's pussy was oozing with her cum.

"Look at that, I gave you a creampie. Don't move, I'll take a photo of this." The spy held Wanda's legs up so her seeds won't spill out and took a photo of Wanda's abused hole.

"You're so bad, Natasha."

"You enjoy it when I'm being bad," Natasha whispered, her fingers deftly adjusting Wanda's dress and Natasha put on her pants as well. "Come here."

Leaning against the sturdy tree, Natasha motioned for Wanda to settle into her lap.

"I feel so happy when you're home," Wanda confessed, her gaze soft as she gently held Natasha's face. "I wish you didn't have to leave. Every time you go on a mission, it feels like my heart's being torn in two."

"I hate being apart from you, my love," Natasha replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. "But you know I can't refuse the missions they assign me."

Wanda nodded, her eyes clouded with concern. "I understand that, but I can't help but worry. I'm afraid something might happen to you out there."

Natasha's heart ached at Wanda's genuine concern, knowing that every mission brought a new set of risks.

"Hey, I have a little something for you," the spy's voice held a hint of excitement as she retrieved a ring from her pocket, presenting it to Wanda. "I snagged this while I was chasing my target in the bustling streets of Hungary. I had to duck into an alley to avoid pursuit, and there was this street vendor selling jewelries. This ring, it just reminded me of you, and I can't even remember how much I handed the vendor, I was in such a rush."

"Natasha! You really can't resist, can you? Buying me a ring while you're in the middle of chasing a target," Wanda exclaimed, affectionately slapping Natasha's arm.

Natasha grinned, undeterred. "It's worth it, my love." Carefully, she slid the ring onto Wanda's right hand. "See? It fits you perfectly."

Wanda examined the ring closely, her eyes lighting up. "It's beautiful."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a lump in her throat. Her heart swelled with love for the woman beside her. "You're too sweet for me," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and affection.

Natasha leaned in, brushing a strand of Wanda's hair away from her face. Their eyes locked in an intimate connection. "Only for you, detka. I love you."

"What do you think about round 2?" Wanda suggested wickedly.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm going to ruin you."

[bobbithewriter]

Miller's Secret

Chapter 1: Cafe Kisses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 5058 Series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] You don’t know how or why but you find yourself drawn to an older man. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and pepper gray hair drive you wild. But there’s one problem: he’s your professor. Unsure of how to get over this crush you decide to apply for a mentorship… under him. It could all go horribly wrong, or it could be just the thing you both need.  Series warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, this is so smutty I’m not even sorry. Very veryyy brief mentions of Y/N (if any). Age gap- reader is in her 20’s while Joel is in his late 40’s/ early 50’s, it’s not specified. Student/Teacher relationship but it’s not what you think. Inappropriate relationships, yearning, tension, sexual tension, sarah doesn’t exist here (sorry girl), secret relationship, cursing. Chapter summary: After crafting the perfect schedule for your last year of college, you find out that one of your classes in your first semester got dropped. Forced to find a replacement, you settle for Intro to Philosophy with Professor Miller. You’re in for a big surprise. Chapter warnings: 18+, Smut, fem!reader, professor!joel miller, sexually explicit thoughts, cursing, age gap, inappropriate thoughts/dreams, oral (f receiving), sexual tension, secret relationship.

A/N: This is the first chapter to what I hope will be an interesting series. It goes without saying that this is all FICTION. enjoy:))

-

The heat is stifling outside, the sunning blazes down, scorching the Earth beneath it. It’s nearing the end of summer and you just can’t believe it’s gone by as fast as it has. Although you’ve spent most of it working, like today, there have been a few moments of relaxation sprinkled in, but not nearly enough for your liking. 

Making your way into your two bedroom apartment, you toss your keys on the coffee table near the door. You kick off your shoes and rush to turn the A.C. on hoping to be rescued from the heat. The apartment is silent, your roommate, Jade, is most likely at work giving you time to decompress from the very tiring shift you’ve just had.

You enter your room and are welcomed by your cat Lulu whose orange fur shines thanks to the sunlight passing through your window. Clothes litter the floor, books and magazines lay scattered on your nightstand and desk, your room is a proper mess, but it’s your mess. You make your way to the rickety wooden desk that sits against the wall closest to your window, pulling the near see-through curtains together in hopes of keeping some of the sun out. 

You open your laptop and look up your school’s student sign in, hoping to review the courses you’ll be taking this semester. Although you’ve grown to love school and love the structure it provides you with, you feel an immense relief knowing that it’s your last year in college. The parties and events are fun but you finally feel ready for more, you’re hoping for something more worthwhile. Lucky for you, your last two semesters are light ones since you’re not taking nearly as many classes as usual- you shudder thinking back to your freshman year when you thought taking seven was a good idea. Last spring, when registering for classes, you crafted the perfect schedule: four classes fall semester, three classes spring semester- easy. 

You scroll down to the bottom of your schedule only to find that one of your classes, an elective, has been dropped. Confused, you grab the notebook from the shelf above your desk and flip through the pages until you find the schedule you outlined back in April. Sure enough you see that your photography class has been dropped due to them not finding a professor for the course. You check your student email and find that you were sent a message back in July notifying you of the change. Frustrated at yourself for forgetting to read your emails, you return to the school’s registration page. Unfortunately, with classes starting next week, you know that the chances of you actually getting a class you’d find interesting are slim to none. You scroll and scroll until you’re able to find a class that fits with the rest of your schedule: philosophy. Great, you think, two hours a week dedicated to listening to some old guy drone on and on about ethics and morals and what the meaning of life is. 

The cursor hovers over the register button. Do you really want to do this? You have two options: you could always take photography next semester with the professor you like, or, you can suck it up and get this elective over with and earn another three credits but be forced to listen to a bunch of existential nonsense. You, for whatever reason, pick the latter. You rationalize with yourself that it’s only one class and it’s just one step closer to graduating. You decide to mull over the syllabus jotting down a list of school supplies you might need for the upcoming school year when you get a notification from your email. 

Professor J. Miller

Fall A- Tuesdays and Thursdays 10:30-12:30- Office hours: TR 1:00-3:00 or by appointment 

Welcome to Intro to Philosophy! Like the title suggests this course will be the most basic introduction to philosophy and its integration into our society. No textbook is required for this class but I do expect you all to come to every class prepared to discuss the handouts I give you. Participation is a requirement for this class and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts and opinions. Looking forward to meeting you all next week!

Best, JM

Although you won’t have to spend even more money on textbooks for the class, the prospect of having to show up every other day for weeks on end just to earn a participation credit is enough for you to groan aloud. 

-

The week goes by quickly, between work, getting ready for the upcoming semester, and hanging out with Jade, you’ve barely had any time to yourself. Lucky for you, you don’t have any classes on Monday giving you time for some much needed self care. You complete your yearly before-school-starts-self-care-routine, trimming your hair, painting your nails, shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows- the works. 

You spend the day lounging about your room, playing your favorite albums on your record player to fill the silence. You try on different outfits feeling totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. As if on cue you get a notification from your phone. Opening your email you find a message from Professor Miller with a full copy of the syllabus and a short article to read. 

Good afternoon everyone! Below I have linked a copy of the syllabus and an article for you all to read before class tomorrow. I hope to spend less time going over the syllabus, only answering questions you might have, and more time talking about the contents of the paper. Please come prepared!

Best, JM

Great, homework before you even start the class. You move to your bed where lulu is sprawled out and begin reading the article. You read paragraph after paragraph discussing value theory and metaphysics, taking notes as you do with the hopes of actually understanding what you’re reading. You finish and decide that you’ll review the notes tomorrow before class. Surely it won’t be that bad.

-

You wake up later than you intended and realize you don’t have nearly as much time to get ready as you wanted. You get ready quickly knowing you’ll have to stop by your school’s cafe since you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. The drive is a short one and eventually you’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Grabbing your backpack and keys you enter the cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils. Looking at your watch you realize you have 20 minutes till class starts and relax a bit. You order your usual, a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a chocolate croissant, and wait for your name to be called. Behind you you hear the bell on the door jingle signaling that another customer has entered the already very busy cafe. 

As you wait you can’t help but look around at the cafe’s patrons, some are clearly students while others are harder to discern, maybe professors, maybe alumni, you’re unsure? Your university is located at the center of the city so many alumni linger around, finding jobs after graduating but still gathering at some of the college’s most popular cafes and restaurants. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the barista calling out names and orders. 

“Large six shot quad espresso with extra ice for Joel”, shouts the barista.

Your eyes first land on the very large cup filled to the brim with espresso and then to the person picking it up from the counter. Your eyes trail up from his hands, to his arms, and finally to his face, ogling him unintentionally, and you’re met with a sly grin from the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry for starring”, you laugh, “I’ve just never seen someone order that many shots of espresso in a single cup.”

“What can I say, I like my coffee strong”, he laughs. “I’m Joel”, he says, extending his hand out for you to shake.

The man before you is tall, six foot if you’d have to guess, with broad shoulders and large arms. He’s sporting a light blue button down and navy blue trousers that make his already tan skin seem impossibly warmer and brighter. His dark brown hair is peppered with grays as is his beard- though you wouldn’t really describe it as a beard, more like scruff. His hands are large and pretty much engulf your own as you extend your hand to shake his. His shake is firm and you find the handshake lingering longer than you both probably anticipated. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”, you reply. From the looks of it he’s anywhere between his late 40’s or early 50’s, but you’re not really sure. His brown eyes hold your gaze momentarily and you notice that he too is sizing you up. You snap out of it when you hear your name called.

“Small vanilla latte with two shots of espresso for Y/N”, the barista shouts again. 

“Ah I can see why my six shots would scare you”, Joel jokes, keeping his body facing you as you reach for your breakfast. 

“Yeah well caffeine tends to make me jittery and I’ve got class in a bit so I’m trying to keep the coffee to a minimum”, you respond. “Anyways, I better get going”, you say, “It was nice meeting you, Joel.”

Before he has a chance to respond you find yourself walking to the door but not before turning back around and giving him a small smile. As you make the short walk to your first class you find yourself thinking of him. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a guy and maybe that’s why you find yourself still thinking about this stranger but a part of you also knows it has more to do with his good looks. You’ve never really found yourself attracted to older men like that, partly because you live in a college town where most of the guys you interact with are no older than twenty five and partly because you’ve just never met an attractive older man in person.

You think back to his face, a blend of strong, masculine features but with a much softer side as well. The slight curve of his nose and edge of his jaw seemed almost drawn with charcoal, and you can’t help but think back to the warmth in his eyes.

God it’s been too long since you’ve been with a guy, now you’re replaying a five minute interaction with a total stranger. Great. You take your phone out to text Jade.

Y: Dude I just saw the cutest fucking guy, too bad he was like 50:/ It’s actually concerning how touch starved I am bc im literally daydreaming about this guy and we said like five words to each other LMAO J: OUUUU DILF DILF DILF Girl go for it, who cares if he's old, hot is hot Did you get the sexy strangers number?? Y: NO our interaction lasted maybe two minutes  J: Too bad:(  It’s okay bc I hereby declare that we are officially going out this weekend and you’re gonna get laiddddd Y: okay this conversation is over J: this. weekend.

You smile despite yourself and fasten your pace hoping to leave any thoughts of Joel in your wake. You take the stairs up to the second floor and enter the room. Although it’s not quite as big as a lecture hall, there are a decent amount of students already there waiting for class to start. You take a seat in the middle of the third row, your usual spot since it’s close enough to seem engaged when you want but also far enough away so you’re not in the direct line of crossfire when it comes time to participate. 

You’re too distracted getting settled to notice him walk in but when you look up you see Joel… in your class… walking to the podium? You’re struck with the sudden realization that he’s your professor. Your professor is Joel. Oh my God. The sexy stranger, as Jade put it, is literally your teacher.

It seems that he notices at the same time as you do and he gives you a warm smile. Okay, there’s no need to freak out. He clearly doesn’t care so why should you and really there’s nothing to even care about right. It’s fine, he was clearly making normal conversation and you just happened to be the sex-deprived stranger he gave his attention to. There is absolutely no reason to overthink this. So what your teacher is cute, it won’t make a difference, you’re here to get your credit and go.

He makes his way around his desk and podium and begins, “Good morning class, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the room. It’s good to see you’re all here so let’s get started shall we. If you have any questions about the syllabus now is the time to ask, I want to get started on dissecting the article I had you all read.”

His voice is clear- confident- and you can’t help but to hold onto every word he says. He looks around the room, waiting a beat to see if anyone raises their hand and moves on. 

“Okay great, now I want you guys to first raise your hands and tell me your thoughts on the paper itself, did you like it, did you dislike it? Feel free to get as specific as you want.”

Around you, your classmates raise their hands and participate, voicing their opinions on the paper. Some thought the paper was interesting, others didn’t, but there seems to be a universal agreement that the paper was difficult to really understand, a fact your professor seems to catch onto.

“So it seems as though the room is pretty split between whether the paper was good or not. That’s fine! Philosophers have disagreements all the time. But how many of you really understand what Value Theory is, hm? Can someone explain what it is to the best of their abilities, it’s okay to be wrong, that’s why I’m here”, he says. 

You raise your hand, “Value theory is, at its core, worried about justifying our value judgments and the actions that follow. It basically tries to answer hard questions like what it means to pick between the ‘lesser of two evils’ or what it means to be a ‘good’ person.”

“That’s exactly right”, he says, holding your gaze for a moment and giving you a small smile. 

You return his smile with pride, happy to have gotten the answer right. You’ve always excelled academically and although you would never admit it to anyone else, you crave the validation you get from your professors and peers. 

The rest of class continues on like normal with Professor Miller explaining the differences between Value Theory and Metaphysics and how they might help us answer some difficult questions. 

Class continues as normal and just as he’s about to dismiss everyone he gives a few housekeeping reminders: two papers to read before next class, office hours are Thursdays after class, and mentoring?

“Like the syllabus says, I do mentor a small group of students each semester who want to get a more in depth understanding of philosophy. Unfortunately I cannot mentor every single one of you so if you want to be one of the lucky students please submit a one-page proposal of sorts by the end of class Thursday. If you have any questions feel free to email me. You’re dismissed”, he says.

Packing your things you’re left with this new idea to ponder. It might be good to have Professor Miller as a mentor so you can get another letter of recommendation, but you’re not even sure you even enjoy philosophy like that. You have a couple days to decide anyways, who knows what you’ll end up doing. 

-

The rest of your day drags on slowly and by the time you finally get home you can’t help but sink onto your carpet floor and just lay there. Lulu hops off the bed and curls up next to your side. You let out a groan thinking about just how much homework you have to do and it’s only your first day. Two papers to read, a proposal to write- you decided you’d take a shot at it, there’s no guarantee you’ll even get picked so who cares- a four page research paper due, and an online quiz. You mentally thank yourself for only having picked three classes this semester. 

After eating dinner and showering you decide to start on your proposal. You rack your brain trying to come up with at least three different reasons you want this mentorship. One: you need another letter of recommendation- you plan on applying to graduate school or law school and both require amazing letters of rec- and one from your philosophy professor would look good. Two: you find philosophy interesting (sometimes) and maybe one on one sessions with your professor will strengthen that interest. And three: it doesn’t hurt that your would-be-mentor is easy on the eyes. Okay that third reason isn’t really a reason it’s more of a plus but it’s still valid. 

It takes you longer to submit your proposal than it does to actually finish it. You deliberate the options: you could submit it and work closely with Professor Miller, if you get picked that is, or you could never submit it and never have to worry about being in close proximity to that man. Fuck it, you think, and click submit. You hope you don’t end up regretting that. 

-

Thursday comes and goes pretty uneventfully with the exception of Mr. Miller telling your class that he would release the names of the students picked for the mentorship by the end of the weekend. You, surprisingly, aren’t at all nervous. You know that if you get picked it will look great on your resume but if you don’t it won’t really make much of a difference. 

Unsurprisingly you spend the rest of your day studying and going to work, it seems as though your days consist only of those two things now. When you get home you find Jade sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. You decide to join her seeing as you both have seen so little of each other because of all the craziness that the start of the semester consists of. 

You guys quickly stop working on any actual homework and start talking about random stuff, friends, boys, work, and school. Eventually the conversation shifts to your professor.

Jade gives you a smirk, nudging your arm, “So how cute is he really? Do you have a picture of him or something, I’ll be the real judge.”

You open your laptop again, scrolling down your course page until you find his picture. Zooming in, you turn your computer towards Jade.

“Sweet baby Jesus, that is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Oh my GOD! Is it too late to register for this class?” she laughs. “If you don’t make a move I will.”

You laugh, snatching your computer back from her. “You know I can’t do anything, he’s my professor. It would be totally unethical”, you say.

“It would be totally fucking hot”, says Jade. “Come on it’s not like you’ll get expelled or anything, it says nothing in the Student Code of Conduct about it so you’re fine.”

“Have you ever even read the Student Code of Conduct?” you retort. 

“Well no, but I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about that”, Jade laughs.

You both stay there talking for another hour or so, taking turns telling each other about how your days have gone. Eventually Jade decides that Saturday night is “the night” as she puts it. 

“We are so getting you laid, you need it more than anyone I know, no offense”, she says.

You give her a glare but ultimately give in. You haven’t gone out since that one night last semester that ended with you holding Jade’s hair as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet. You’ve never been much of a partier, much less someone who enjoyed one night stands but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a barren few months and you haven’t had much company with anyone except Bertha, your vibrator. Maybe it was finally time to give into the college craze and sleep with a random person, no emotions, no strings attached, just sex. 

The thought stays in your head throughout the rest of your day. As you’re getting ready for bed you open your laptop and can’t help but look at the picture of Mr. Miller there. He really is sexy, you think, as you’re reminded of his broad shoulders and strong arms. You fall asleep with the thought of him in your mind.

-

You’re sitting in his office, nestling yourself further into the wicker chair. You close your eyes taking in the smells of his office, rich mahogany, oak, and leather. You feel him behind you, his presence close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Your heart seems to stop, anticipating his next move. His hands trail up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He lowers his head down to your shoulder and you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down to the base of your spine.

“Do you know how wrong it would be for us to do anything? Hm?” he whispers. 

His voice reverberates through your entire body, straight to your core. You feel the familiar flutter in your lower abdomen and the way your heart seems to start beating again but this time impossibly fast.

His lips press a kiss to your shoulder and you instinctively move your head to the side, hoping he takes it as a sign that you want more. His fingers trail up your arms again but this time to your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the skin he just kissed.

“Your heart’s beating a little fast there sweetheart, you alright?”

You nod, silently praying your body doesn’t betray you again. 

“Hm. Are you lying to me now? You know”, he says kissing your neck again, “good girls don’t lie. Are you a good girl?” he asks.

You think you nod again but your mind is so out of it you’re not sure if you actually do or not. His scruff lightly scratches against your smooth skin as his left hand wraps itself around the base of your left shoulder and his lips make their way up and down your right, your breath hitching as he does. 

Against your ear, he again whispers, “Tell me the truth, baby. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to take you right here?”

Your mind is reeling from his touch, his lips, his words, you’re struck silent for once.

“You know baby, if you’re honest I might just give you what you want. C'mon darlin’ be a good girl and tell me how much you want it.”

You open your mouth and pray that your voice sounds stronger than you feel right now. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me”, you whine. 

“Where do you want me to touch darlin’? Your breasts? Want me to play with your nipples? Or your cunt? I bet it’s already so wet for me”, he whispers against your skin. 

“Both”, you cry out, spreading your legs apart praying he gives you what you most crave.

He lifts you up from the chair and spins you around, pressing you firmly to his front. He moves one hand to your hair and pulls it gently, angling your face to his. His eyes have gone from brown to nearly black and it sends another shiver down your body. His lips crash into yours in a kiss so earth shattering you feel yourself turn to mush, leaning against the desk for some support. With one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his front, you finally get to feel the hard dent in his pants. You moan into his mouth and regain some sense. You kiss him with a newfound intensity, pawing at this chest hoping to feel some of the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He smirks against your mouth, chuckling at your urgency. “You’re so damn cute when you’re desperate, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want”, he says before his hands begin exploring your body even more. You feel the hand that was on the base of your back move down your ass and give it a hard squeeze, that familiar flutter in your abdomen returning. His lips once again move to your throat and down your chest; you feel your face getting hot and your breaths getting more rapid because of the lack of oxygen. He begins unbuttoning your satin blouse, replacing where the buttons were with kisses. 

He moves you so your back now rests flat against his desk and you feel him kiss lower and lower down your body. He kisses his way down to your naval and begins unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly, taunting you. 

Just when you think he’s going to give you what he wants, his lips start going back up, following a similar path as before. He kisses your breasts over the mesh balconette bra you’re wearing, your nipples hardening as he does. You’re moaning wildly at this point, never having been this turned on before. His hands move to your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side. He begins attacking your chest with a fervent need, softly biting your nipples, forcing a moan from deep within your chest. Your hands make their way to his hair and you tug at the base of his curls needing an anchor as you feel yourself slowly begin to lose it. You’re desperately trying to find some friction between your legs and you start grinding your still covered cunt against the dent in his pants. 

“Look at you, such a sweet thing grinding against me. Cmon baby, tell me again how much you want it”, he says as his lips make their way down your body again.

“Please” you beg, “I want it so bad, please just fuck me.” Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and you’re almost certain you look fucked out of your mind even though nothing’s even happened yet. 

“Oh I’m not going to fuck you here, honey, though I bet you’d fucking love it”, he says.

Your chest deflates a little from disappointment and you can’t help the low whine that comes out of your throat.

“I will, however, give that pussy the attention it deserves”, he says again, this time pulling your pants down past your hips and off your legs. 

Your heart begins racing as he kisses his way down your stomach, stopping right at the edge of your panties. He looks up at you and sees pure desire written all over your face. He kisses your center over the fabric of your panties, making you jolt from the sudden contact. Moving to kiss along the inside of your thighs, his scruff scratches harshly now against your skin. His fingers wrap themselves along the sides of your panties and he slowly peels them off of you. 

You look down at his kneeling figure, fully clothed with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a stark contrast to your entirely naked form spread out for him on his desk. 

“So fuckin beautiful”, he says against the skin of your thighs, peppering kisses there at random. Just as you're about to beg for the fourth time, he wraps your legs over his shoulders and dips his head between your thighs. He licks a long strip up to your clit where he starts sucking relentlessly. Your fingers find themselves digging into his hair, holding on as you grind yourself further into his mouth. He licks your cunt until you’re writhing in pleasure, holding onto the desk and his hair for dear life. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to form and you chase it. You’re a moaning mess when he starts to tongue fuck your pussy, so close you could scream. His nose continuously bumps against the hood of your clit and you think you see stars.

“Fuck I’m close”, you moan, your back arching against the cool wooden desk.

One of his hands comes up to tug on your hardened nipples while the other finds refuge between your thighs. You feel him smirk against your skin and you realize why when he dips a finger into your spasming hole. His large finger works itself in and out of you, pushing you closer to your release. 

“You like that baby?” he asks. “Cmon I want you to come for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” 

Not waiting for your response he adds another finger, fucking you in tandem with his mouth. With every stroke you feel yourself getting closer, your juices gushing down your inner thighs, producing a sound so obscene it’s bordering pornographic. It’s only when he curves his finger, hitting your g-spot that you feel yourself lose it. 

“Oh my God-”, you cry out, “Fuck I’m cumming.”

Your legs shake beside his head but he doesn’t stop fucking you through your high. Your mind is blank and your thighs are sticky from your release and you think you might have just gone to heaven and back.

-

You wake with a gasp in your bed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel your shirt sticking to the skin on your back. The boyshorts you’re wearing feel wet and sticky from your release. You sit up trying to momentarily catch your breath and you stare in the mirror directly across from your bed. The skin on your chest is red and blotching and your sheets are rumpled.

God, did you really just have a wet dream about your professor? Maybe applying for this mentorship was a mistake.

[worldsetfree]

Stardust Crusaders × Reader: Motion Pictures

(+ bonus card at the bottom of the cereal box!)

Finally, you and your travelling band of troubadours have arrived at a hotel for the first time in days. It's early in the evening, everybody's exhausted, so you decide to retire to your rooms early and decompress. But you want to take some time, either with the group or your special someone and unwind with a movie.

(Trying to stay as canon-compliant as possible, so only movies that came out in or before 1988. Enjoy! Feedback welcome.)

I. THE MAGICIAN

Muhammad Avdol hasn't watched a lot of movies tbh. Down for most anything. Spending time with you is the true privilege.

Tbh I am struggling so much with picking a movie for him. His favourite movie canonically is Midnight Run, so maybe he'd recommend something like From Russia With Love?

I think he would let you pick if it was only the two of you and just be happy for the time together. He is the sweetest of men.

Respectfully tender. You want to share a blanket? You want snacks? You want to kiss? He's prepared and willing for anything.

Toasty warm if you want to cuddle. Leaves him delightly flustered.

V. THE HIEROPHANT

Omg this bean. 💕 Kakyoin Noriaki wants you to watch something that is of great personal significance to him but he's fearful of rejection.

He'll pick something a little bit artsy (and maybe pretentious), but something he holds dear to his heart. But it's Kakyoin, and he's also kind of a weirdo. He's gonna pick something a little out there like Blade Runner. The Princess Bride?

Please, bear with him. He's doing his best. Does the movie fit the vibe? Maybe not. But it's about being next to you.

Wants to cuddle, is too nervous to ask. You're gonna have to be the bold one here.

Watch his face flush to match his hair if you pull him in close and kiss his cheek. He's gonna want to do this every night from now on.

VII. THE CHARIOT

Oh Lord, Jean Pierre Polnareff has been waiting for this moment. He wants to fall in love. This is his chance to woo you, mademoiselle.

Already has a running list of appropriately romantic movies. Settles on Dirty Dancing (he is incorrigible). He doesn't actually care about the movie, this is all just a scheme to set the mood.

Chatty as fuck during the movie. Sweet nothings in your ear and distracted commentary on the movie. His stream of consciousness, really. Wants to see you blush.

Offers to let you sit/put your head in his lap. C'est magnifique if you take him up on that.

He is a gentleman, he won't try anything you don't want. He is going to ask to kiss you, though. Even if it's not the first time you've kissed today. He can't help himself.

IX. THE HERMIT

Joseph Joestar is either trying to inspire the group with some big moral lesson or he's leaning on his comfort films in private with you. No in-between.

"Comfort films" means Indiana Jones. That's it. There's a new one coming out next year, you know? You'll go see it with him, right? He's just as handsome as Sean Connery!

He's gonna try the ol' big yawn and stretch into holding you trick. Thinks he's slick.

Somehow he's already eaten the snacks. Pest. Will get more if you ask nicely.

The type of man who waits til you're very engrossed in the movie, then distracts you by kissing your neck. Success may vary. What do you mean Indiana Jones doesn't get you in the mood?

XVII. THE STAR

Good grief, why do you have to do this right now? Kujo Jotaro is tired and wants to sleep. You're so needy.

(He's thrilled by the idea and would love to turn his brain off for a night).

In front of the guys, he wants to watch some cool action movie. Top Gun? Yojimbo? More of a cinephile than he lets on. In private, he is more comfortable being the dork we know he is. Might suggest detective fiction or a documentary.

Adores these quiet moments of respite. Will play with your hair. Pamper him a little bit with soft affection and see his brows finally relax right before your eyes.

Will end up falling asleep on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you. Will beat up anybody that tries to tease him about it. RIP Joseph

0. THE FOOL

(He's a dog. Obviously platonic)

You're done. Fuck these guys. Fuck this whole trip. They have tried your patience for the last time today.

You and Iggy will cuddle up on a soft hotel bed and watch a Disney movie or something and have a self-care night.

Do a face mask. Realign your chakras. Enjoy strange flavours of gum. Live your best life.

Iggy is suprisingly okay with this turn of events. He lays in your lap and lets you pet him. Finally, he has found peace.

The men are distraught grumpy about missing out on this. Open the door, please. They're sorry, they promise they won't fuck up and do any stupid shit without listening to you again. Please!

Bonus Card:

IV. THE EMPORER

Baby, he's never wanted to do anything more in his life. He swears! Hol Horse loves taking time to unwind with you!

You already know this man is going to try to charm you with a spaghetti western. Fistful of Dollars it is.

THIS AIN'T HIS FIRST RODEO. He's already got all the pieces together to make this a proper romantic night. Popcorn? Check. Comfy seating? Check. Cologne? Check. Handsome smile? Baby, you're screwed.

Takes it slow, lets you make the first move. Will make you swoon.

Like a bandit, he is gone in the morning, with a note telling you he'll be back again soon and to keep him in your heart. ♡

[sapphicshitandsuch]

3 and 15 :)

Yennefer meandered rather slowly through the corridors of Aretuza, her footsteps echoing against the stone floors. Her reappearance after Sodden had made for a strange day of both warm welcomes and hostile, suspicious glances, and as the sun set for the evening, she yearned for the solitude she would need to recenter herself. 

Especially after her reunion with Tissaia. The memory of the morning’s events replayed in her mind, each detail burned into her brain. She had expected a measured, distant reception from the Rectoress, perhaps a few words of acknowledgment, maybe even a brief inquiry into her well-being.  

But what she received instead had been far more overwhelming. 

Tissaia had embraced her, taking her by complete surprise at the sheer emotion of the gesture. The sincerity in her reaction, the intensity that shone brilliantly in those sapphire eyes undid something tightly wound within her. 

And then the words were exchanged – she had been so open and vulnerable in a way that Yennefer had rarely known her to be. It was as though a wall had come down, revealing a side of Tissaia that Yennefer had only ever caught glimpses of in fleeting moments.  

She had thought her feelings for the woman to be mere relics of her school days, when she had admired the Rectoress from a distance, mistaking her affections for respect. But those feelings had been reignited with a force that was impossible to ignore in the events leading up to Sodden. Like her own flames, those events had burned away any pretense Yennefer might have held about the nature of her emotions. She cared for Tissaia in a way that went far beyond admiration. 

And now, after that morning’s interaction, it felt as though those emotions were threatening to spill over entirely. The thought of Tissaia – of how easily she had undone Yennefer’s defenses with a single hug – left her feeling horribly vulnerable. It was all almost too much to process. 

Even now, hours later, Yennefer shook her head, trying to clear the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She needed a moment to breathe and sort through the tumultuous feelings that had resurfaced with such force.  Decompressing in the bathing pool seemed to be her most appealing option. It was a luxury she had scarcely taken advantage of as a student, having always been too self-conscious of her deformities to fully enjoy the experience. The thought of being so exposed to the gazes of others had always outweighed any relaxation the water might have provided. 

Upon entering the room, Yennefer’s senses were immediately greeted by the enchanting warmth and tranquility of the room. The steam that rose from the water was infused with scents of lavender and jasmine, filling her lungs and instilling an instantaneous sense of calm. But the moment was short-lived as she caught a glimpse of the neatly folded robe on the far ledge of the pool, and a quick glance at the water told her she was not alone. 

There sat Tissaia, submerged to her shoulders with her eyes closed, head resting back against the ledge. She appeared more serene and unguarded than Yennefer could ever recall seeing her. Silently, Yennefer turned on her heel, aiming to make a quick escape before the other woman noticed her presence. She hadn’t taken more than two steps towards the door before Tissaia’s voice broke the silence. "Don't leave on my account, Yennefer. The water really is quite divine."  

Yennefer’s heart jumped to her throat at Tissaia’s invitation.  She swallowed, trying to maintain her composure, as though one of her oldest fantasies wasn’t playing out in front of her very eyes.  Free from the constraints of its usual elaborate chignon, her chestnut hair was loose, damp, and slicked back behind her bare shoulders. The older woman was clearly naked beneath the water’s surface, and Yennefer was glad that her eyes were still closed so she couldn’t see the way violet eyes lingered perhaps just a little too long. 

“No, ah... Sorry.  I didn’t expect anyone else to be here at this hour.” Yennefer muttered awkwardly, trying to muster her usual confidence as she fumbled for a response. Despite her refusal, Yennefer could not break her gaze of the skin that was exposed—the elegant curve of her neck that swooped to meet her shoulders, the hollow dip at the base of her neck, and delicate collarbones, all glistening with drops of water.   

"Nonsense. I insist." Tissaia opened her eyes now, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Unless you fear my presence will be too distracting?”  

“Do not flatter yourself, Rectoress, I believe I can manage.” Yennefer scoffed dryly in response, perturbed by the trace of amusement in Tissaia’s voice. Her trance was broken as her eyes snapped away, heat rising to her cheeks at the prospect of having been caught in her staring. Distracting – what in the world had she meant by that? Perhaps she had imagined it, but there seemed to be a challenge hidden in Tissaia’s response. And Yennefer was never one to back down from a challenge. “I simply did not wish to intrude on your solitude. But if you insist. You may be the distraction I needed after today’s chaos,” 

Feeling self-conscious for the first time in ages, Yennefer hesitantly approached the water’s edge, feeling the weight of Tissaia’s gaze intensely.  As if she had sensed her discomfort, Tissaia wordlessly turned her back, granting Yennefer a moment of privacy. Grateful for the gesture, Yennefer quickly slipped out of her gown, the cool air making her shiver as she swiftly slid into the pool. She settled across from Tissaia with a soft sigh, the initial awkwardness dissipating with the soothing warmth of the mineral-enriched water. “I must admit, you’re right. This is a rather nice reprieve from the vultures that have been circling me all day.”  

“Yes, it seems your reappearance has caused quite the stir." Tissaia chuckled softly as she began wading towards her. Yennefer could feel her pulse rising with anxious exhilaration the closer she got, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Tissaia's approaching form. As Tissaia drew nearer, her gaze fixated on a mild scratch marring Yennefer's shoulder, one the younger woman couldn’t even recall obtaining. The sight of it seemed to trouble her, and silently, tentatively, she reached out her hand. Yennefer's breath hitched as Tissaia's fingers lightly brushed against around the reddened skin. She muttered a soft incantation, watching with satisfaction as the edges of the cut pulled together. But even after the scratch had vanished, she did not remove her hand, fingers gently trailing across Yennefer’s shoulder and down her arm. The sensation sending shivers down Yennefer’s spine, and she felt an odd mix of relief and longing when Tissaia finally removed her hand, her touch leaving a lingering warmth. Tissaia's proximity and the ambiguity of her gestures was both comforting and maddening. 

"I know I’m repeating myself, but I am profoundly glad to see you alive and relatively unharmed," Tissaia said, her voice soft and filled with an emotion Yennefer couldn’t quite place. "I never thought I would see you again." 

Yennefer's heart clenched at the sincerity in Tissaia's words, the vulnerability she was displaying catching her off guard. She struggled to find her voice in the face of such an intimate confession. "I'm ... sorry.” 

"Whatever for?” Tissaia's eyes softened, and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips again. One of her hands came forward to brush some stray curls out of the younger woman’s face. Yennefer cursed the way that her breath hitched as Tissaia’s fingers combed through her scalp and brushed against the shell of her ear.  She was certainly close, but was Tissaia leaning in slightly closer than was normal? Did her eyes linger just a fraction longer on Yennefer’s lips? Was it her imagination, or did Tissaia’s hands linger a moment longer than necessary? Every detail was relentlessly analyzed and dissected for hidden intent.  

“You’ve endured ordeals that few could withstand since Sodden. My girl, your strength and resilience never cease to amaze me." 

The younger woman swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat, choosing instead to focus on the only other thing she could, which was the woman in front of her.  Had she ever seen the woman with her hair down? She didn’t think so; it was a stunning sight to behold.  She found it mesmerizing how perfectly it seemed to frame the sharp features of her face. She watched as one of her eyebrows twitched upward and realized with muted dismay that she had once again been caught staring.  

"I’ve never seen your hair down.” She responded much more coolly than she should have been able to manage, opting to change to subject to something lighter. “Tell me, are you giving your scalp a break, or did you just lose all your hairpins?” 

"Contrary to popular belief, my hair is not glued permanently into place. It likes to breathe every now and then." Tissaia’s features twitched with amusement, her words carrying an undercurrent of warmth with her retort.  

“Well, it suits you.” Yennefer assures, lips curling ever so slightly. Then she chanced, “I can see why you keep it so firmly contained when you teach. I wouldn’t have learned a thing during your lessons. It’s quite the distraction.” 

Before Tissaia could respond, the sound of laughter and approaching footsteps echoed from the entryway, and Sabrina entered, followed closely by Triss.  

Yennefer instinctively took a step back, her smile tightening as she tried to steady her nerves. Objectively, there was nothing unbefitting about the way they had been positioned when the others entered. But the way Tissaia’s gaze seemed to ignite her skin – even more than the warmth of the water – made their proximity feel far less innocent. 

"Yennefer, welcome back!" Triss called out cheerfully, beaming brightly as she strode toward them.  

As Triss perched on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water, Sabrina joined them in the pool, greeting the both of them with a grin.  Tissaia’s foot brushed against Yennefer’s under the water as she shifted out of Sabrina’s way, the touch light and seemingly accidental. But Yennefer's heart skipped a beat, and she abruptly pulled her foot back and put a few more inches between them. 

Sabrina stretched out with a groan of delight. "This feels utterly divine."  

Yennefer nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a foot graze the side of her thigh. Her eyes darted to Tissaia. 

“Indeed it does.” The Rectoress responded with a thoughtful hum. Her expression remained neutral, but Yennefer caught the flash of amusement in her eyes, and her mind reeled. Had she done that on purpose? Gods, did Tissaia know what she was doing to her? 

"However, loathe as I am to leave, I have a few matters that require my attention this evening." Tissaia declared, with finality, giving Yennefer a strange jolt of both relief and disappointment. “Enjoy your evening, ladies.” 

All three of the younger mages bid her a good night in return, and Tissaia regarded each of them with a brief nod of her head, though her gaze lingered just a little longer on Yennefer before she rose. The raven-haired woman watched intently as Tissaia gracefully stepped out of the pool. Unable to look away, violet eyes traced every movement as the droplets of water cascaded down her back. Her gaze traveled slowly up Tissaia’s body, from her ankles, past her toned calves, creeping up the backs of lean thighs until Tissaia pulled her robe on with practiced elegance, effectively covering the rest of Yennefer’s view. 

As the Rectoress turned to leave, she paused, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint as blue eyes met violet one last time. "And Yennefer," She purred, her voice infused with an unmistakable hint of flirtation, "I hope you find tonight’s distractions to be just what you need." 

[khaire-traveler]

🏞️ Subtle Lethe Worship 🪦

A majority of this will be UPG. There is very little information out there on the worship of Lethe.

Visit a local river, creek, or body of water; sit beside it and relax - draw, paint, fish, etc.

Take a walk/hike along or near a river

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of rivers, caves, or forests

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Keep a picture of her in your wallet

Have a stuffed animal of whatever you associate with forgetfulness or oblivion

Have symbols of rivers (especially those leading into caves), cypress trees, caves, coins, or rowboats around

Collect river water (please do not drink this)

Grow moss, pothos, english ivy, spider plants, bamboo, or other water based plants

Honor your ancestors or passed loved ones

Have a collection of coins with the intention of dedicating them to any souls in need of coins to cross with Charon into the Underworld

Practice mindfulness; practice patience

Feed local fish or water-based fowl (no breads please; research what is best to feed these animals)

Take a walk in the moonlight (if safe to do so in your area)

Explore a nearby cave/take a cave tour (safely!!!)

Visit hot springs if able; take a dip in them

Drink water regularly; stay hydrated

Learn to go with the flow more; practice releasing control

Take a warm bath/shower, especially at the end of the day; maybe have floating tea lights and calming herbs in the bath (safely)

Make a list of your favorite memories or memories that make you smile/laugh

Take lots of pictures, especially of things you find beautiful or dear to your heart

Try learning to kayak, paddle board, or something similar

Collect river rocks

Let go of things that no longer serve you

Recognize how far you've come; take a moment to acknowledge all your personal growth

Drink a warm tea or comforting beverage

Engage in activities that calm/relax you

Sit in silence for a bit; take this time to decompress or meditate; you're more than welcome to engage in quiet activities

Allow yourself to feel your feelings; find healthy outlets for these emotions (drawing, boxing, dancing, singing, etc.)

Practice forgiveness towards yourself; come to terms with past mistakes

Support environmental preservation organizations

Pick up trash from nearby rivers, streams, or creeks

Stand in river water; ground yourself using the waters; think of anything you want to let go of and imagine that as a paper boat floating away from you down the river

Try to maintain a consistent sleep schedule

Have a nighttime routine

Take care of yourself emotionally and physically

Listen to music that relaxes/comforts/soothes you; sing or dance to it

Leave a glass of river water out on your windowsill, especially at night; replace it if it starts getting gross or something

Make your space comfortable and relaxing for you; maybe decorate with cool colored fairy lights or fake vines

Hang up any pictures that make you think fondly of on your walls; keep a photo album

If you struggle to remember to do tasks, write yourself reminders and sticky notes in places you'll see them

Camp somewhat near a small stream or river (BE AWARE OF FLASH FLOODS!!!)

Practice mindfulness

If you swim, float on your back for awhile; if not, close your eyes while relaxing in a bathtub or while sitting in the shower

Burn incense that relaxes you (leave a window open for this to help your lungs)

-

I will likely add more later as this list doesn't feel complete to me. This was pretty tough to come up with ideas for, but I did my best! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Lethe. I hope someone finds this helpful. May Lethe relieve your pain and worries, if you wish her to. 🩵

List of Subtle Worship Master list

[estro-gem]

Jax x Ragatha: What lurks beneath the surface

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's Note:

It's done😭 Finally...

This is the longest Oasis fic I've written and I pray that my English was good enough to NOT have as many mistakes that would distract you from the story I am trying to tell. We'll hope for the best.

Thankfully, I finished it and I'm happy with it - as spicy as it turned out and all. I could finally showcase Jax and Ragatha by allowing them a chance to share another side to both of them - Especially Ragatha! It was so much fun to lean into her character (in the Oasis canon, at least).

Warnings: Suggestive themes and flirting Hypomania/manic episodes Animal instincts/ferocity

I hope you like this one. Please enjoy!

SUMMARY:

Ragatha gifts Jax a plush that she promised to make for him. He enjoys the comfort that it brought him as well as the sentiment behind the gesture, until Ragatha reveals that the dress of the plush can be removed for him to discover a secret she added for him to find. He is plagued by strange possibilities to his dolly’s reasoning behind the design choice. He struggles to muster the courage to remove the dress – or even see reason to do so, other than quenching the thirst of his curiosity.

It’s just a doll, isn’t it?

WHAT LURKS BENEATH THE SURFACE.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Sweetheart?”

Jax didn’t expect Ragatha to come knocking at his door. It had been a long day with a very tiring adventure from Caine. Everyone had already retired to their rooms after they’ve enjoyed a feast together. The bunny was one of the last members to leave and he had been decompressing in his room for no more than an hour, until he was – as he considered – rudely disturbed.

Seeing Ragatha, however, made him curious enough to be more forgiving. She wasn’t one to knock at such a late hour… unless she had something to hide and oh, Jax loved a good secret!

Especially ones he could exploit in the future.

So Jax rested his forearm at the level of his eyes to lean against the doorframe as his free hand pushed the door open wider than before. Instead of answering, Ragatha walked up to him, keeping her eye locked with his as she invaded his personal space. Just as Jax had a flicker of uncertainty that she was getting too close, the doll smoothly strode right passed him without even touching or brushing against him. She broke eye contact at the last second and entered his room, while he was struck frozen by surprise.

Cheeky little-

“You’ve got some nerve, Dollface.” He said, masking his flustered state with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow, “I don’t remember ever saying that you are welcome to come inside.”

He turned around to find his doll smiling as if she was the cat that stole the cream. He took a moment to just silently appreciate her showing him this different side to her, as it was a side that she reserved for very rare, specific and special occasions.

Confident, sassy and letting her actions do the talking.

Dangerously silent.

Delicious.

“Are we playing games, Darling?” Jax shut the door behind him, not once looking away from her smug grin that perfectly matched his, before slowly sauntering towards her, “We can play anything you like…”

Rather than to humor him and say something snarky for him to play of off, his dolly knelt and proceeded to grab at her dress skirt to bunch it up on her lap.

“Woah, WOAH, Sweets! Calm down!” Jax eyes went wide, dropping his façade completely at the sight of Ragatha intending to lift her skirts. With his character completely broken, his ears pulled back and he averted the gaze of his shrunken pupils as a very prominent blush bloomed onto his cheeks.

“Would you relax?” Ragatha chided with a bubbly laugh, “…and shame on you for having your mind in the gutter!”

Jax almost scoffed in disbelief, but didn’t dare to look her way, uncomfortably shifting on his feet, “Ya waltz in here, makin’ eyes at me! Next thing ya know, ya here on my floor and pullin’ up you dress! Whaddaya think, I’m gonna assume ya wanna play cards or somethin’? Geez, Raggs!”

His heart soared at the sound of Ragatha’s laughter intensifying as he rambled on. He had the sneaking suspicion that she really liked his dialect when he was riled up. He tried to put a damper on it whenever he could, but sometimes he just couldn’t stop himself – especially when he was caught off guard.

If it meant that he could have his doll laughing as much as she had, he didn’t mind it too much.

“Oh, Jax…” she sighed, followed by more chuckles as she laughed, “I hid something under my skirt. Don’t worry!”

“Yeah, I’d like ta think that we all hide somethin’ in our pants, Dolly.” Jax quipped without missing a beat.

“I tie a string of wool around my waist and then I tie that to a bag that dangles at my knees, Honey.” Ragatha dismissed with an airy laugh.

The doll fumbled with a large, brown paper bag she had to waddle down the hall. When she managed to untie the top, she opened the bag to reveal a box wrapped with a disheveled red bow. It was a wonder that she managed to walk so naturally with it knocking against her legs, but years of practice taught her well.

She noticed Jax tapping his foot impatiently, still not looking at her, making her smile to herself. It didn’t matter how much he tried to hide it; he was still a good man at heart.

It was a shame that he had to do the wrong things for the right reasons.

“I’m decent for show, Honey. I always was… just so you know.” She said while standing up to present the box. She remembered what he previously said and sought the opportunity to milk her teasing just a little longer, “What are you hiding in your pants, Jax?”

“Hey, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Jax mused suggestively as he peeked with a glance from the side when he was cleared by Ragatha to do so.

The doll gasped dramatically, “And here I thought you were a gentleman!”

“Ugh, please!” Jax approached his doll before resting a hand on his hip, “I’ll have ya know that ‘Chivalry’ is my middle name.”

“If that’s the case, we’re all doomed.”

The brief silence was eventually broken by the sounds of the couple barely containing their snorts, until they burst into fits of laughter. It was so hysterical, that Ragatha almost dropped the box, causing her to juggle and fumble with it in the air; eye wide until she caught it with a firm grip. Jax practically died at the sight, pointing and laughing with new vigor. The doll helplessly chose to laugh at her own clumsiness.

Finally, when the laughter died down, Jax looked at Ragatha and saw her face glowing the glee. In another life, he would have loved to make her laugh whenever possible. He would be her safe space that would never have to lay a hand on her, unless he wanted to see her smile, laugh, gasp or sigh in joy and pleasure.

But here, he was chained to the slavery of hurting everyone out of obligation.

Stop thinking about that!

“That’s a good look on you, Raggs.” Jax commented right after she chose to break eye contact to look down to the wrapped box she was still holding.

“You don’t look too shabby either.” She held out the box for him to take, but he just idly stood to look at it; hesitantly. He was a lot more expressive when they were alone.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

The doll just shook her head with a little huff, “You made me laugh.” She blushed, looking away, but fiddled with the ribbon wrapped around the box, “You make me laugh... and you never ask me for anything! I love that I could give you something you actually wanted for once.”

His dolly grew bold enough to look up to him, despite her little rosy blush. He focused on keeping his face neutral, despite feeling conflicted about accepting a genuine gift. Ragatha didn’t stop insisting for him to take it, “Please… just look at it? You can do whatever you want with it afterwards, but just take one look. Please?”

“Don’t beg, darlin’.” Jax suddenly said, as if a switch was flipped, as his aura shifted to take on a darker tone, “It’s unbecoming.”

Please beg for me to take you instead…

Silencing the confusing thoughts that clouded his mind, he stepped forward and held out his hands, only for Ragatha to step forward and lightly push the box against his chest. He took the sides of the present and met Ragatha’s eye. She was fixated on his gaze as she trailed her hand down her side on the box, before slowly turning around and walking to the door.

That doll would be the death of him.

“Where’d ya think you’re goin’, Sweetheart?” He asked coolly, making no move to trail behind her – even as she opened his door.

Just before closing the door behind her, she looked back one last time. The ragdoll sported that confident, cheeky grin again and Jax suddenly wanted nothing more than to make her melt.

“I’m giving you some privacy.” Ragatha gifted him one last sweet smile and closed the door as she left, not giving him a chance to answer, “Goodnight Honey.”

Silence.

Anticipation.

Curiosity.

Jax decided to sit on his bed before untying the ribbon. A small part of his mind giggled at the fact that Ragatha could walk with such a bulky object knocking against her knees. Another silent thought whispered into his mind, feeding his curiosity regarding all the things his doll managed to sneak around by hiding it beneath her skirt.

Her waters ran deeper than he thought – not that he was complaining.

Wasting no time, the bunny plucked the lid off the box, but froze on the spot at the sight of a familiar face that greeted him. The lid fell from his grasp.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

About the length of his forearm, a little, redheaded ragdoll in a blue dress was staring up at him. Other than the fact that the little doll was plusher, it was the spitting image of Ragatha. It had the same red locks, the same blue dress with the darker patches and the same face of his doll – embroidered to capture to picture of her face exactly – save for the blue button stitched to represent her missing right eye, just as there was one in reality.

It was perfect.

His mind flashed back to an encounter he shared with Ragatha a few weeks ago. Them, sitting on the lone couch, with him just enjoying the sight of his dolly so focused on her very… flattering… project. How tempted he was to mess with her, but his attention was held captive by the precision, skill and progress she was making.

Maybe he was vexed by the doll’s sentiment to even think of making something that resembled him.

A monster.

The rabbit took the plush doll in his hands and admired it once again, before slowly drawing it to his chest and wrapping his arms around it in a soft embrace. It wasn’t his intention, but Ragatha’s scent invaded his senses, causing his hold on the doll to tighten.

It was not sentient or breathing, with skin or senses. It was lifeless and thoughtless, with no intention of ever reaching out to him. It just existed – made for the times he sought comfort whenever he wanted. It could provide a comfort he was cursed to loathe when receiving it from others who actually cared for him.

What a wonderful gift his precious little dolly had given him.

That night, he collapsed onto his bed, cradling the plush closely as he became intoxicated by his angel’s scent. He had no nightmares or worries that withheld him from sleep. He simply existed in the presence of something that his beloved had made for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so loved.

He couldn’t remember the last time he overslept.

Jax overslept.

“Jax?” a worried voice cried out from the other side of his door, along with insistent banging that caused him to fly straight up. “Are you okay?! Jax?”

He stumbled to the door and fumbled to unlock it, as she wouldn’t be able to hear him from the inside. He didn’t have the time to pull the door open, as a great force crashed the door right into him and caused him to be launched back with a yelp. The pain to his face caused his vision to blur, but he could clearly see the shape of his ragdolly hunched over and panting in his doorway.

“Ow! Talk about a wake-up call.” Jax said as he was blinking to clear his vision.

“Jax…” her voice drew his attention in an instant. He didn’t like it one bit. She sounded terrified.

She sounded relieved.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” he cooed as he stood up and the sting subsided, “I’m right here.”

“Jax.” Ragatha said again, seemingly stuck on his name, “You…”

She stood frozen, blinking multiple times before she shook her head and perked up uncomfortably fast, “You’re late, silly!”

“Raggs…?” Jax spoke carefully and approached her, as if she was a startled animal, “Don’t do that with me.”

Her unsettling smile remained stuck on her face as she looked over his form for any obvious injuries, “Heh, sorry about bumping into you earlier! It’s not common that you sleep in! Why were you-”

Silence.

So intense, that not even an explosion would muffle it.

Her smile was dropped as her eyes suddenly widened. Jax, startled by the sharp continuous shifts in Ragatha’s expression, followed her line of sight to see what caused her sudden reaction. He followed it slowly, until he was met with the little ragdoll plush that was still miraculously clutched tightly in his hand. He stood there like a frightened toddler, holding his favourite toy, but he didn’t feel ashamed about it.

There wasn’t time that; his dolly needed help.

“I… had a great cuddle-buddy.” He started slowly, watching her reactions very closely as he stood closer, “I didn’t want our snuggle-session to end so soon, so I laid here for a little longer.”

He was jesting, but it was gentle and benign. The rabbit could still help her choose to drop her guard if he played his cards right. He just knew he could.

“You like her…” she said in a foreign monotone, “You slept with her…”

“Like a baby.” He chuckled briefly, before unveiling his true emotions by holding the doll up to look at it dearly, “She’s perfect.”

The rabbit allowed his eyes to flick back up to Ragatha, then repeating what he had said, hoping that his dolly would understand, “Perfect.”

Ragatha slowly treaded her way back to reality, helplessly succumbing to the little, somber smile that crept up the corners of her mouth, “I’m glad you like her.”

“Heh,” Jax genuinely huffed, “Only you would think that someone calling someone else ‘perfect’ only means that they kinda like them.”

Huh…

Ragatha meant to question him on what he said, but Kinger screaming about the practicality of duffle-bags distracted the couple beyond recovery.

Before leaving to join the others, Jax made a quick stop to his bed, to rest the plush against his pillow, “Can’t risk her getting ruined in an adventure. We still got plans for tonight!”

“Oh really?” Ragatha mused, though she seemed tamer than she was with her previous fake optimism.

“Oh yeah. No going back now!” Jax said, nudging the ragdoll with his elbow as they walked down the hall.

“I was going to ask if I was invited, but I wouldn’t want to keep you two from doing whatever it is that couples do when they are alone in bed.”

“Aw, there she is! Welcome back Raggs!” Jax laughed, causing the doll to chuckle along with him. He looked over to her with a little hint of seriousness, “But seriously though, we are keeping it clean, Dollface. I mean, it’s a doll.”

Ragatha stopped, alarming Jax to do the same, ready to pull back his statement in case he went too far with his jokes.

Ragatha beat him to it, “Wait, you didn’t take off the dress? Didn’t you notice that it could be removed?”

Jax didn’t know how to react to that.

On the one hand, she could be joking – in a way that he, in turn, would consider as ‘too far.’ On the other hand, she could be serious, opening an entirely different can of worms. Based on her shocked expression at the fact that he didn’t undress a plush, he could only believe that the latter was true.

It horrified him with its implications.

“Ragatha.” Jax said, not missing the way she twitched at the use of her full name, “Why would you expect me to undress a plush?”

Ragatha fumbled to answer, but her face lit up like a Christmas tree, “Don’t put it like that!”

“How else do you want me to put it?” Jax asked, bewildered, lowering his voice down to a hissed whisper, “Why would I need ta undress ya? Is it because ya think that’s what I want? Is that how little ya think of me?”

“Jax, stop.” Ragatha said sternly. He reluctantly obeyed for her to speak, “It’s nothing of the sort, it’s something else. I added a hidden… feature… with the hope that you’d find it on your own.”

“It still sounds weird, Raggs.”

“It’s not, I swear!” Ragatha exclaimed, “I thought you’d know that ragdolls often have their bodies be a different colour fabric; to represent the bodice of the dress, instead of making an entirely separate dress, like I did. I also thought that it would’ve been enough of a clue to look beneath the fabric since I showed you how I hide things beneath my skirt. There’s nothing funny about it!

Jax still looked skeptical, but seeing his dolly that upset, softened his heart a little more than he wanted to admit.

Ragatha pleaded one last time, hoping to have justified herself enough, “I just thought that it would be a special little secret for you to find.”

Jax sighed, but relented eventually, “Fine, but I’m not happy about this.”

“Just trust me on this!” Ragatha insisted gently, “So you’re going to look, right?”

“I’d rather you just tell me and be done with it.” Jax huff, folding his arms and turning away from her. He heatedly glared over his shoulder to flick his eye from her feet to her face, “You know I don’t only want you for those types of reasons, right?”

Ragatha wanted to protest her stance on being innocent with her intentions, but his words caused her heart to melt. She cleared her throat, choosing not to say anything to humor his last question, “If you want to know, you’ll just have to see for yourself, Honey. It’s already a shame that I ruined my plans for you to find it by your own accord.”

“Come on, Doll!” Jax whined, thankfully moving passed the other matter, “I’m dying here! I can’t wait until tonight – I don’t even know if I wanna do what needs to be done to even find out. I don’t care how innocent ya think it is, IT’S WEIRD!”

“Then suffer.” Ragatha shrugged as they finally joined the rest on the crew, leaving Jax perplexed.

That woman…

It appeared that it was going to be a long day for Jax.

It was a long day for Jax.

The curiosity was nipping at the edges of his mind throughout the day. The bunny hardly focused throughout the adventure – not even his disregard for Pomni could distract him. It didn’t help that Ragatha wasn’t making things easier for him, as she would knowingly smirk at him when he dared to glance at her. Occasionally, the doll would giggle to herself, only riling him up more.

What additionally tore Jax apart, was that he didn’t know how to feel about stripping the plush from its dignity by undressing it. It was a doll, sure, but it was a doll that looked like Ragatha, it felt perverted and indecent.

When the long day came to an end, Jax fought between sprinting to his room as fast as his legs could carry him, versus stalling to avoid having the plush taunt him with it’s secrets altogether. It became an odd mixture of the two, where Jax tried to cut any conversations short that stalled him from progressing down the hall, but taking the time to stop and talk to whomever was willing to keep him from reaching his room to soon.

His odd mannerisms caused suspicion to arise among the group, especially Gangle, who always seemed to catch on.

Those cursed observation skills…

 Finally, the rabbit entered his room and locked the door behind him. Just to be safe.

The doll was just laying there as it almost expectantly stared at him. It was mocking him; he just knew it! The bunny hated to admit that his mouth was suddenly feeling dry at the thought of even just touching it. He glared at it, silently cursing Ragatha for thinking that the whole situation was a good idea.

Because it wasn’t.

He took a breath and willed himself to march to his bedside, sit down and firmly hold the doll in his lap. It smiled with glee, and he scrunched up his nose while averting his gaze to gather his courage. It all felt wrong on so many levels! He really hated how curious he was to know what hidden gem his dolly had waiting for him. Yes, he was nervous, but…

He trusted Ragatha.

Jax was just going to be a man and push through his hesitation, he thought to himself. The doll felt like it was burning through his gloves, but he still preferred that above anyone else touching him. Jax looked down to his yellow gloves; and an idea slowly crept from the depths of his mind. With mild distaste, the rabbit flexed his fingers to summon his terrible claws, that pierced though the yellow fabric as a hot knife would cut into butter.

Jax’s ability to feel, was muddled through his claws, since they were not equipped with the sensory ability to perceive touch as well as his fingertips were. He could only feel the dull pressure sinking down onto his fingertips whenever he used them – willingly or unwillingly. He felt a little less guilty while implementing his idea as his very gently used the very points of the ebony tips to hold and maneuver the plush.

The bunny noticed a three little buttons on the back of the doll’s dress. He gently pinched at the blue dress’s fabric and lightly tugged at it, only confirming that the dress was able to be removed. He struggled to maneuver his claws in attempt to open the back of the dress without ripping the fabric, but he managed.

Agonizingly slow…

Finally, the buttons were loose. All that was left to do, was to pull the entire dress over the doll’s head. He still felt uncomfortable just… stripping the doll like a perverted freak, so he did the only other thing he could think of.

Pinch his eyes shut.

Blinded and with a heavy sigh, the rabbit struggled to fully remove the dress from the doll, while still being mindful of his sharp claws. It was a pain – the whole process became so frustrating that he just thought about giving up and saving the private adventure for another day.

But somehow, the plush was finally freed from her blue coverage and Jax just sat in silence, wondering for one last time whether it was the right decision to indulge in Ragatha’s twisted game.

Damn it…

It’s just a doll.

As curiosity won the dispute against shame, Jax hesitantly opened his eyes that were previously pinched shut. Slowly, as light broke passed his eyelids, the blurry vision of the mostly milky fabric that represented the doll’s skin, focused into a clear image of the doll’s bare torso as it’s little face patiently smiled up at him.

All thoughts left Jax’s mind as soon as he comprehended the sight the rested within his grasp. It stole the air from his lungs that grew still as he stopped breathing entirely. A wave of emotion washed over him, but he stood firm and frozen with the overwhelming shock that struck his mind – his soul – to a state of all-consuming numbness.

His hands started trembling, but the man remained silent.

On the chest of the ragdoll-plush, the pale fabric was harshly interrupted by the image of a small, purple heart in the very center. It was neatly threaded to the doll’s chest, in such a way that the stitch pattern of the thread wasn’t obvious to the eye. The only way that Jax could tell that the heart was indeed threaded to the doll and not just a part of the fabric’s print, was the very neat seam that revealed small purple stitches when the fabrics was pulled into the opposite directions.

Jax didn’t know much about needlework, but there was no doubt in his mind that the heart wasn’t just a patch that was stitched atop the pale torso. No. The purple heart was very much a part of the fabric that kept the stuffing from spilling out.

Without the heart, there would be a hole that would expose the plush’s inner content.

Without the purple heart, the stuffing would spill out from the doll, and it would be nothing but an empty, fabric shell.

The purple heart was a part of the doll.

When his vision became blurry, the bunny was suddenly taken aback by his uncontrolled breathing as well as the tears crawling down his cheeks. He hugged the undressed doll against his heart without a care in the world. All that mattered was him holding his dolly with a heart adorned with his colour. Falling to his knees, Jax mind was consumed by thoughts of Ragatha and her precious gift to him. The rabbit compulsively rubbed his neck and chin over the doll’s red locks, only stopping to nuzzle into the ragdoll’s chest.

A possessive blade struck into his cold, dead heart. Jax no longer had tears that spilled form his golden orbs. His dolly dried them, as she often did – because she was his. Only his.

His, as she always was and always will be.

And in kind, he was hers.

Only Ragatha could bring him to his knees like this. He’d kneel to only her, as if she was his queen. He knew, in that instance, that it would only be a matter of moments before she would kneel before him – to join him at his level as his equal.

Then, Jax would not rest until the entire universe was brought down beneath her. He’d destroy whatever it takes, he’d break whatever he saw fit, and he would crush and torture every soul that would ever dare to hurt her.

Because only he could hurt her – Jax would make sure of it.

No one else would do it right.

No one else would take care NOT to break her as he always made sure to do.

No one else would read her as he did.

No one else would care for her needs as he did.

No one else would do anything to her, because he would never allow them to.

Not only because he was the snake, but because he was HER MONSTER.

He was hers.

And at that moment, her monster craved to drown within her.

Jax held the plush back to admire it once again. It was hers, but it wasn’t her. He wanted her and he wanted her now.

NOW.

In a flash, Jax was moving.

He didn’t know how he made it through his locked door to mindlessly claw at Ragatha’s, like a dog, but he ended up doing just that. Jax was too far gone to even think about the keys he left in his door before sprinting down the hall. No words left his lips – only little desperate grunts escaped him as his claws sprouted fine wooden spirals from his dolly’s door. It was inhuman to say the least.

And that’s why Gangle lunged at him without a second thought.

 She happened to be in the hall to witness his descent into his animalistic nature. Shivers crawled up her ribbonoid form at the beastly sight of Jax’s blown pupils and ungraceful, jagged movements. He didn’t even acknowledge that she was there, so it became clear that Jax was experiencing one of his occasional manic episodes.

It didn’t happen all that often, but based on her experience, Gangle could tell that she would not be able to get through to him with mere words.

Her ribbons served her well as powerful restraints. Since she had the element of surprise on her side, Gangle was able to wrap herself swiftly and strategically around each of Jax’s wrists, as well as bind his powerful legs together, causing him to fall face first into the door, then onto the floor.

The rabbit, caught off guard, thrashed and screamed in a manner that no human ever could. He managed to slice one of her ribbons down the long length, only to have the 3 finer streaks of ribbon become their own independent tendrils that reenforced the grip Gangle had on Jax. It hurt, but there was very little that Jax could do to make Gangle stop.

It wasn’t the first time she had to restrain him, after all.

“What’s going on out there?!” rang Ragatha’s alarmed voice from the other side of the door as it creaked open by a mere slit for her voice to rush through.

“Stay put and lock the door.” Gangle ordered, her softer voice firm as a blade that sliced through any question to oppose her order. She constricted her grasp around Jax’s neck to manually muffle his senseless howls of protest and discomfort. Gangle also took note of how his pupils dilated impossibly wide at the sound of Ragatha’s voice. He fought with a greater vigor and tried to reach out to the door.

It, then, became clear to Gangle, that the bunny didn’t act out in anger, but in what appear to be a type of desire that he very rarely expressed.

“Gangle? What’s happening-?”

“Be quiet.” Gangle spat out as Jax only ceaselessly continued to struggle against her. His aggressive thrashing became desperate and distressed. The door shut after a few seconds of hesitance on Ragatha’s part. The doll knew her place.

There was nothing she could do now.

“You’ll scare her like this, Bunny.” The ribbonoid hissed into the wild rabbit’s ears, causing him to tense up and shiver. Despite Jax’s immeasurably greater tolerance for the ribbonoid’s touch, he still had his limits – limits that only Gangle had managed to push as far as he was willing to allow. Boundaries were thrown out the window a long time ago, for they both no longer regarded each other’s boundaries. They had no choice, as it was within their roles and owl and snake.

Boundaries were crossed too long ago for either of them to care.

“Mine.” Jax forced out as soon as Gangle remembered to loosen the grip she had enforced around his neck. He turned his face to look at the mask of the sentient ribbon, eyes filled with desperation, “Mine.”

“I know, Bunny. I know.” She almost cooed when she felt him burst into untamable trembling, clearly stumbling his way back to reality, “But there’s a better way to go about this. You need to control yourself.”

Jax could only blink a few times, trying to ground himself. He stopped to look down with a defeated sigh and leaned his head down to ungraciously plop his forehead against the forehead of the theatrical mask. She welcomed his gesture, by leaning back into him and closing her eyes.

They savoured the moment as the world grew quiet, sharing breaths to calm themselves.

Jax remained as he was as Gangle slowly opened her eyes again, not willing to risk being unaware for too long. Her dear friend looked worse for wear, but much better in comparison to a few minutes ago. If it wasn’t for a distant movement that caught the ribbon’s attention, the newfound peace would have led the pair to Gangle’s room in a gentler manner…

But the sight of a little jester who stood a while’s way across the hall, caused the girl to rip her ribbons from Jax - bristling up like a threatened raptor. The ribbons danced and scurried high above her head in an impressive display, causing sounds of fabric slithering and fluttering to pierce the silence. Pomni jolted at the sight of the previously meek and timid character being so intentionally disapproving towards her. It was so unsettling, that the jester took a step back.

Her movement jump-started a series of chaotic, spasmic events that could only be found in a horror movie.

In the blink of an eye, before Jax could turn his head to see what caught Gangle’s attention, the previously bristling ribbons sliced through the air to grab Jax where-ever they could grip; and rapidly dragged the purple character down the hall at inhuman speed. The only trace that Pomni managed to register for her to realize that she wasn’t hallucinating what she saw, was the blinking light reflecting on the ends of the ribbons the slithered through the remaining gap in Gangle’s door, right before it slammed shut.

The little fool blinked and recovered quickly, as she was forced to do since she found herself trapped.

The soft creak of Ragatha’s door caught her attention. The Ragdoll’s face hung lower than usual, causing the red locks to shield her face. The fool blamed the light reflecting the red, glowing hue of her hair onto her face, because there was no way that she would be bashful in the given circumstances.

Right?

Ragatha stepped outside and jumped at the sight of Pomni, then feverishly looked around the hall. She paused in confusion before she shook her head once to face the fool, who just opted to turn her face to the freshly carved scratch marks on the doll’s door. While Pomni’s face fell at the sight, Ragatha’s expression remained unbothered.

It was unnerving.

“Is this really what you consider Jax caring in his own special little ways?” the jester asked skeptically – almost rhetorically – as she recalled Ragatha’s words from a previous encounter.

“You wouldn’t understand.” The doll spoke in that cursed monotone that Pomni quickly learnt to hate, “We are all one minor inconvenience away from going insane. I told you that before. Besides, out of all of us, he’s literally the animal. The urges and instincts do things to you, you know…”

The silence that followed, stretched down the hall. The girls simply stood in front of the door and looked over the ugly trenches Jax had left in the wood. It wasn’t until much later that Pomni gently pierced through the stillness with a strangely steady quip of morbid curiosity.

“Didn’t you also say that Gangle and Zooble were romantically involved? She seemed very close to Jax just then-”

“Those two are intimately close, you saw correctly.” Ragatha interrupted, finally easing up her tone as a fond, little smile grew on her face, “Zooble and I are aware – we encourage it. They are very good for each other.”

Pomni almost got whiplash with how fast she swung her head to look to the doll, “Intimate? Do you mean- do they…? Are they-?”

“Intimate; nothing odd going on there, New Stuff! Friends.” The doll clarified with a chuckle, “Very good friends with a very strange, deep connection. There’s nothing more to tell – not that it’s really our business.”

“So. it wouldn’t bother Zooble that they are alone in Gangle’s room?”

Ragatha’s eyes lit up, “Oh! That’s where they are… And no, it doesn’t bother anyone when two of us wants some time alone with each other. Jax clearly needs a shoulder, I mean, just look at my door!”

Pomni sighed heavily.

It was a relief to hear the ragdolly act ‘normal’ again, but it felt like she was growing more confused as she learned more and more about her surrounding circus mates. The sooner she earned Gangle’s trust, the better. The claw marks on Ragatha’s door made Pomni want to avoid Jax for as long as she possibly could, lest she’d risk to randomly be mauled by a spontaneously feral rabbit.

Yet again, something new for Pomni to be weary of.

“Ragatha?” Pomni asked hesitantly, “Do you think I can do this?”

No context was given, but the doll could comprehend the true question that the jester was asking - she answered as honestly as she could.

“I believe that you can.” She said softly as she looked to the little fool, who’s eyes were occupied; tracing the marks on the door, “…but it will always depend on how much you want to make it work.”

“We don’t really have a choice, do we?” Pomni tore away her gaze on the door to peer up at Ragatha, who chose to remain silent.

No need to answer something that wasn’t intended as a question.

Oasis: TADC AU list

Masterlist

[misc-obeyme]

more kitchen barb thots

playing music while mc and barbatos are cooking, each doing their own tasks. mc starts swaying their hips to the music- knowingly or not, but its enough to distract barb once he notices and he cant help but continuing to glance over bc the movements are just so captivating he cant help but watch despite all his usual self control. muscle memory has to take over for his task to continue but eventually even that falters (hopefully not while hes chopping stuff lmao) but mc hears the change in rhythm/slight clattering of the bowl and obvs has to check if their cooking buddy is ok!! and barbatos barely manages not to stutter as he assures them hes fine, just a bit distracted because of an "upcoming event" or some other excuse but hes got a pink tint to his cheeks from nearly getting caught staring.

at this point mc can either be oblivious to the reality and just reach out to give a gentle reassuring arm squeeze and a reminder that theyre 'always here if you need anything, we can take a break to decompress for a few minutes :) ' or theyre wise abt it and decide to tease the poor butler and go up to him, turn him to face them and put a hand to his forehead ""checking for a fever"" (pressing their chest into his at the same time ;) ). pull him away from the busy counter and dote on him worried 'but barb your face is so warm! i dont want my favorite demon getting sick :( especially since you look so cute with a blush it would be so unfortunate if the cause was you not feeling well' but internally theyre all >:3 lets see what it takes for his resolve to crack

i feel like the moment you catch him off guard with this kinda thing if you just keep up the "innocent/unaware" flirt teasing it would make it more and more difficult for him to pull it back together. but if he gets that moment then he'll start teasing back. this may be ooc rip and it got Way long but scenarios are fun lol

-🥐

Oh welcome back, 🥐 anon!

One of my favorite things about Barb is the way he teases. However, I also think it's fantastic when the tables are turned and he's the one who's flustered.

The thing about this guy is that he isn't easily flustered, but if there is anyone who can accomplish it without even noticing, it's absolutely MC. I have actually written scenes (though I think they later got scrapped) where Barbatos straight up cuts himself while chopping vegetables because of something MC did or said. So not like him! But that's the point! MC makes him do things he wouldn't normally do. And he can either lean into it or try to resist it and I think you end up with different scenarios depending on which way he decides to go.

MC's reaction certainly matters, too. If they're oblivious, I think Barbatos could safely pretend nothing happened and move on, but I also think he could be the one who teases MC and gets them all flustered.

But a wise MC who's all I'm just trying to make sure you're okay! Listen. I very much think that Barbatos would have a hard time controlling himself at that point. Even if he knows that MC is doing it on purpose. Maybe even more if he knows.

The best thing about Barb is that I feel like I can write him being a real troublemaker where he just messes with MC a lot, but I can also write him being the one who is easily flustered. Like yeah he's got that rigid facade, but you can say beneath it there is a man who is fully aware of what he's doing and deliberately does things just to get a reaction out of MC. Or you could say that beneath it is a suppressed man that gets blushy when you start to tease him. However, I do think either way he'd eventually give in because MC is the only person for whom he is lenient about anything ever.

MC might tease him and fluster him and get him all riled up, but as soon as he realizes what's going on, he starts playing into it. I think he'd use the whole situation to his advantage. Especially if he's like yes let's take a break because secretly he wants to get naughty but he doesn't want to mess up the kitchen lol.

[youre-amazing-say-it]

Request 2 flufftober

Chris x adopted daughter

She’s never experienced the infamous ‘evans Halloween party’ or any holiday with their family ever or even before she was adopted by Chris, so she’s not very sure what to do or how to act because she’s not used to this but they have it at chris’ house because he agreed to host and basically halfway though the night reader goes to her room to calm down with dodger since she’s got a calm corner in her room but it’s a separate room in her room if you get what i mean. And chris finds her overwhelmed by all of this since it’s loud and just overstimulating as hell so she feels guilty because she’d always get moaned at for being the ‘problem child’ but Chris assures her it’s okay to be overwhelmed and overstimulated by this because it’s not her normal since she’s never really had a normal so they talk about it since it’s okay so she doesn’t feel like a burden or a problem and it’s just fluff with a little angst because her parents weren’t nice people (can relate) so he gives her the space and the comfort to decompress from this and then lets her say when she’s ready to go back out if she is so he’s not rushing her 💖

I was Afraid

Pairing: Chris Evans x Adopted Daughter!reader

Warning: Glass Breaking, Yelling, talk of abuse (physical), Reader Overstimulated/ Shut down, Weighted Blanket, Anxiety,

A/N: changed it to a welcome party! hopefully I did this justice

Being a teenager in the foster system, you never thought you would get adopted, even less so by Chris Evans. The two of you meet through a screening of Captain America: The Winter Soldier hosted by the City of NYC for all the kids in foster care. Chris and Sebastian Stan came to stop by, and the two of you instantly connected.

Five months later, Chris signed the papers and you moved into his home in Boston. After settling in, Chris mentioned that he would have the family over for a welcome party. You had met them each individually before but never had they all been over at once.

Now, the gathering was in full swing. Chris and Scott were outside catching up, plus Chris really wanted you to spend time with your aunt and cousins to get to know them. Your cousins were all playing a board game. You, Carly, and Shana were in the kitchen starting to clean up from the party. You went to go clean out a glass bowl until it accidentally slipped from your fingers, dropping it on the floor.

The sound of the glass on the floor made your breath hitch. Your cousins, not knowing any better, ran to the kitchen and started walking towards the broken glass. "kids, KIDS!" Carly spoke loudly. You could tell she was getting overwhelmed, not wanting her kids and niece to get hurt. "Step away from the glass," Chris and Scott came inside after hearing the breaking as they took in the scene in front of them.

Nobody took in the way you were reacting, standing still and eyes wide. You made a huge mistake, and you knew that this was going to go bad. You felt your breathing going heavy, and your brain started to hurt. Your mind was racing with all of the possible scenarios of how Chris or the family would punish you for your mistakes. You didn't want to get hit, you had to run. Run.

Shit," you heard Chris murmuring under his breath. "Okay back up, BACK UP!" Chris said as he went to go grab the dustpan from the kitchen. He noticed you just standing there and he quickly moved you out of the way. You came back to reality at that moment as you quickly ran upstair to your new room.

Meanwhile, Chris was too preoccupied with cleaning to realize that you left the room. He finished sweeping the glass into the dustpan, and put it in a plastic bag and away for the moment. Once it was away, Chris looked around for you, realizing your presence was missing. "Hey," he turned towards Carly, "where did Y/n go?" Carly exhaled as she put her hands on the counter. "I think I heard her go upstairs. Maybe it all got too much for her," she spoke to her brother. "You okay if I go check up on her?" he asked his sister. "Of course, go" she replied as he started heading up the stairs.

Your room at this point didn't have much, you still needed to personalize it. But the one thing you for sure had was the nice bean bag in the corner with a white weighted blanket on top of it. Chris got it for you after the first couple of hangouts when you mentioned how when you get anxious you just need comfort. You quickly got under the blanket and closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself down.

A couple minutes later, you heard a gentle knock on the door. "Hey, sweetie? It's Chris, can I come in?" you heard the voice say. While Chris adopted you officially, you still weren't at the point of calling him dad yet. You nodded your head, but then realized he couldn't see you. "Sure," you said as you wrapped the blanket around yourself more.

As Chris stepped into your room, he saw that you were curled up into the blanket. Wanting to give you space, he closed the door behind him as he sat on your bed. "I see the blanket has come to good use," he spoke, trying to make conversation. "Do you like it?" he questioned. You gave a nod as you try to decompress after the event. "Look, I don't want to say that I know what you are going through because I don't. But I'm in this for the long run with you, and I want to help you as much as I can." He spoke softly. "So, want to tell me what that was about?"

You took a breath before continuing. "I was afraid you were going to hit me," you practically whispered. Chris just let out a huge sigh as he stood up and made his way over to you. With each step he took, he saw your body tense up more and more. Chris stopped and knelt down in front of you. "Y/n, can you look at me," you shook your head quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you spoke as you felt the tears coming down your face. He quickly got rid of the blanket and scooped you up into his lap as he held you.

"Shh, shh, I got you, hun. I got you, it's okay" you heard him say into your ear as he stroked your hair. Your hand was shakingly clutched onto the white t-shirt Chris was wearing. Breathe in, breathe out, come on just like we practiced," he whispered as you tried doing what he said. Deep breaths in and out. You continued to do that until you and Chris could feel your heartbeat and tears slow down.

"Hun," Chris said as he wiped some tears off your face and moved your hair out of your face. "You know I will never EVER hurt you. And I know it will take some time for your brain to know that. But know that you are in a safe home, and you are loved, okay?" he spoke as you looked into your lap. "Hey kiddo, look at me," he requested as you looked into his blue eyes. "I will always keep you safe. I promise"

You latched onto him again as he said those words, feeling your world become a little bit safer to live in.

[aintashes]

the gates of alexandria are a welcome sight for sore eyes. it's been much too long since daryl has set foot here— his visits back home have long been limited because of his role as the impromptu leader of the remaining saviors, and the ache in his heart to come back has only deepened with his recent travels. it's why he can't help but to let his fingers tap against the handlebars of his bike as they wait to be let in.

the ride here from the bridge was refreshing, at the very least, especially after the horrors he and @painmon have endured just within the past few days alone. feeling the wind against his face and blowing through his hair is always a nice way of decompressing for daryl; it lets him think, the roar of his bike's engine like a healing purr as he speeds down the road. he thinks it's the closest he'll ever feel to the true freedom of flying.

seldom does he have anyone riding with him, though. he made sure to give peter his leather jacket before they left the bridge— it was more of a precaution than anything, but he didn't trust that the cult wouldn't try to knock them off of his motorcycle somehow and he didn't want peter getting seriously hurt, no matter what ( although, even if peter has road rash, he's still a useable vessel, surely ).

bike rumbling to life again as the gate is opened for them, daryl rolls them inside before cutting the ignition and pushing out the kickstand. after untying the bandana from around his face he grabs his bow and his bag from their secured spots on the back of his ride, giving peter a little nod as he takes a moment to observe the community.

for new people, seeing this place for the first time is always quite the shock. for someone like peter... well, daryl wouldn't be surprised if it was a little too much to take in all at once: townhouses line the streets, crop fields flower in abundance, and the evidence of expansion shows everywhere you look with the wooden frames of in-progress buildings littering the landscape.

uncle daryl! a small voice calls out before he can say anything to peter, drawing an immediate grin to his face as he drops his bag and his bow right onto the ground. is that uncle daryl? michonne coos as she approaches with judith in her arms, her own smile bright and contagious as she hands the young girl over to him. her eyes glance to peter for a moment, clearly curious but willing to wait until her friend has said his hellos to be introduced.

‘ hey, jude, ’ daryl says softly as her arms wrap snug around his neck, eyes closing to soak in the moment. he leans back as she pulls away from the hug to get a better look at her, blue eyes alight with adoration. ‘ you're gettin' big, huh? yer almost as tall as me. ’

with a renewed sense of peace, daryl shuffles a little to the side, gesturing to his travel companion. ‘ this's peter. he's stayin' with me while we figure some stuff out. that good with you? ’ he asks purely as a formality, shaking his hair from his face as judith rests her head against his. michonne offers peter a tight smile— kind, but firm.

any friend of daryl's is a friend of alexandria. it's nice to meet you, peter. i'm michonne. and this... she takes the girl from daryl's arms with a fond sigh, is judith. stay as long as you need. her eyes turn to daryl then, one of her hands reaching to rest against his bicep with a little squeeze. it's good to see you.

gathering his things from the ground upon michonne's departure, daryl gestures for peter to follow as he makes his way deeper into the community. several alexandrians either wave at him from across the way or stop him completely to give him a hug, his little smile fraught with the shy kind of affection that he's known for. as they enter his place, daryl leads peter down the stairs, finally opening the door to his bedroom. it doesn't take him long to drop his things in a heap against the wall, rubbing his hands over his eyes.