#with mild variations

[shidoukanae]

i wanna finish my The Mighty Extra fan VN so badly,,,, but the art,,, it daunts me,,,,,

[doedipus]

someone tagged this on a beer post. while you can't really get non-alcoholic beer, sometimes you can find what they call "session" beers that have pretty low alcohol content (<4%). for comparison, most beer is around 5%, wine is usually 10-15%, and spirits will be >20%.

[solarsteam]

◇Finally made a colour variation chart showing off some fur and mask colours! I did not include any markings (might be it's own post) but I'm pretty proud of it.◇

◇Here's the headcanon post that explains everything. Basically it's just me rambling about headcanons on colour genetics and mutations.◇

[website-com]

who decided an alien was a skinny baby. have you no imagination.

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[gaymelie]

Also try things in a variety of ways or different flavour combos on occasion, some foods i dislike in most contexts but absolutely find vital in a few dishes, others i like prepared a certain way or if combined in a stew etc.

If its something you want to do it IS possible to train yourself to tolerate certain foods more over time if you dont push too hard.

Tomato will cover up a lot of other veggies flavour.

Your palette will almost certainly change with time especially if you're a young adult things will taste different over the years.

Hey when you move out on your own the most important food tip I can give you is “maybe you don’t hate x maybe your guardians just cooked it wrong”

The number of foods I have learned I really like if they’re Fucking Seasoned

The number of foods I’ve introduced friends to that they warned me they’d always hated til I let them try a piece of mine

Also marinade things for 24 hours the second you have your own fridge it is a GAME CHANGER you thought you knew food but you have never met her

[binghe-malewife-goals]

genshin and honkai have cool looking characters but absolutely horrible designs if that makes sense

[queenpiranhadon]

Can I request bkg and reader getting in a fight so they still share the bed but sleep while facing away from each other. But then reader gets nightmare about him dying and clutches to him. How do you think he would react??

A/N: Sobbing because the manga has me in shambles TY ANON FOR THE REQUESTTT <33 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Mild cursing, you and Katsuki get into a fight, he's a little hot headed but he means well, you both love each other so much, you both are dating, mentions of an anxiety attack, nightmares, angst to comfort, mentions of blood and death, slight spoilers, reader is called princess and baby, f!reader.

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

"Katsuki you can't keep doing this to yourself!"

"Jesus baby, ya know that this is my job, I don't have a choice! I can't just stop savin' people 'cause my girlfriend wants me to."

It went on like that for a while, back and forth, between "You can't just keep coming home like this, it's not healthy!" and "It's my fuckin' job - what the fuck do ya want me to do about it?!" as well as every single variation of the two.

It was exhausting.

You were understandably worried sick about your pro hero boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou, you always had been. You loved him to death, you always would, but your heart simply couldn't take the sight of him coming home bruised and bloodied and on the brink of death.

You believed in him, you really did, but the little voice in the back of your head never seemed to stop asking the one question you wish never had to be asked in the first place.

What if it finally became too much? What if one day, he didn't come home back to you?

The scenarios that voice would create were almost as bad as having to experience it in real life, and Katsuki's blatant disregard for your feelings only made it worse.

To him, you didn't believe in him. Your worries made him feel weak - your worries made it seem like his skills were incompetent, as if he wasn't enough. After all, when you see a hero like All Might on the screen, no one is simply worried for his wellbeing, because they know he'll win.

Why don't you think he can win?

The two of you don't speak to each other for the rest of the night, still sleeping in the same bed but turned away from each other.

And it was hard, trying to fall asleep without the other, so accustomed to falling asleep in each other's arms, but you finally managed to do so.

However, without Katsuki's presence to soothe you in the night, the voice in your head decided to take the reins on your dreams.

Except it was much more worse than that.

You were on a battle field, there was so much happening except there was nothing happening at the same time.

You can't see your hands, or the rest of your body, eerily making you a spectator to the chilling scene around you.

The ground was slate grey, and then it wasn't, crimson blood staining the ground until all you could see was red.

You try to scream, but you can't because you have no body, and consequently, no mouth.

Still you persist, opening an invisible mouth to let out soundless screams in the hope that someone, anyone, can get you out of this soulless empty hellhole.

And then you see him.

It's Katsuki.

He looks fine, unharmed except for the hollow look in his eyes.

Your heart aches and you reach out an invisible hand to do something, to apologize for losing your temper, anything to have him back.

But the moment you blink, Katsuki isn't fine, or unharmed anymore.

Now, there was a gaping hole in his chest, and half of his face was stained the same crimson that was splattered across the ground.

You could only watch in horror as Katsuki's life was sucked out of him, seeping out through the blood that dripped out of his body, staining the ground even further, pooling at his feet.

You scream even more, but nothing comes out. You can't do anything, and the love of your life is bleeding out and you're just standing there.

Shit!

You didn't realize you were crying until you feel two strong hands gently shaking you awake, finding yourself buried in Katsuki's chest, clutching onto his shirt like it was your lifeline. Or in this case, his.

"Princess? I'm here, baby I'm here...everything's okay..." he murmurs, his gruff voice soothing you as he strokes your hair, allowing you to soak his shirt with your tears, not minding it at all.

You look at him, and his heart breaks at the broken look in your eyes.

"Katsuki...?" you whisper, and he looks at your with those piercing vermillion eyes, ridden with guilt.

"Baby, m'so sorry I talked to ya like that.... I'm so stupid, damnit." he whispers angrily, not to you, but to himself.

How had he not realized how bad your anxiety was?

He sighs - he wasn't the focus right now, you were.

He brings a large and gentle hand around, cupping the back of your head and tenderly pressing it against his chest.

"Feel that princess? That my heart, beating for ya. And only for ya, ya hear me?"

You giggle softly, feeling your heart warm. The two of you fall asleep together like that, and the little voice in your head finally gives you a few words of assurance.

Katsuki's okay.

[wandasaura]

LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly. 

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in. 

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation. 

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic. 

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.” 

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step. 

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought. 

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?” 

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen. 

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented. 

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.” 

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now. 

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store. 

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is. 

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.” 

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression. 

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.” 

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you. 

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry. 

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways. 

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable,  but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?” 

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes. 

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.” 

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?” 

-

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night. 

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied. 

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills. 

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there. 

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week. 

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk. 

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?” 

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?” 

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.” 

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.” 

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester. 

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures. 

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this. 

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.” 

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.” 

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back. 

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time. 

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree. 

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months. 

-

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway. 

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself. 

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve. 

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough. 

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” 

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have. 

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction. 

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands. 

“Good girls get to watch movies.”  She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further. 

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone. 

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it. 

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music. 

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go. 

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.” 

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero. 

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before. 

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy. 

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?” 

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.” 

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking. 

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.” 

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.” 

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week. 

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger. 

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.” 

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer. 

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her. 

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.” 

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?” 

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence. 

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting. 

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?” 

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline. 

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well. 

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.” 

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance. 

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to. 

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.” 

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same. 

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship. 

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.” 

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.” 

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.” 

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions. 

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason. 

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips. 

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.” 

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places. 

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile. 

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention. 

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.” 

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you. 

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.” 

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest. 

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours. 

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.” 

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward  desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs. 

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?” 

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through. 

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air. 

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful. 

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet. 

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.  

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.” 

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true. 

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?” 

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again. 

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour. 

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.” 

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore. 

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs. 

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together. 

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.” 

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way. 

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest. 

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.” 

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away. 

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

[maddragon15]

Obscenely late hermitaday day #23 & 25! - Impulse & Tango

Was this meant to be a simple cel shaded drawing on the 30th? Yeah, yeah it was lmao but somehow the power of fire excels at overtaking the rendering capabilities.

But since it's late I'll use this as excuse to ramble below about well, the headcanons and the process down yonder. Also there's variations.

(Also just realized that the compression is high with this one, please click on it to see the details pretty pleasee)

So! Let's talk about that haircut shall we? First off Tango's haircut is basically just me slapping my very neglected oc's haircut onto him lol. There's no function usage or any other lore about it, literally just I wanted to use that haircut more. But Miners and Crafters that's not all! The intensity of the flame actually has meaning believe it or not.

Since Tango in the headcanons is already a nether born blaze hybrid the redstone kinda didn't have an effect on him. This is because blazes produce glowstone which is a power source onto itself. He gets minor effects instead which is a mild (there's literally no other word) high, a intensified hair flame and a brighter eye night shine. Negative effects include mild joint & jaw pain, and a small localized headache behind the left eye.

I like to imagine that other blaze hybrids' hair flame aren't normally that intense, not white-hot heat but rather more red n orange hot similar to the flats. Mainly due to the fact that glowstone is not as powerful as redstone and it's also dependent on how strong a blaze is. Now imagine with me that blazes determine how strong each other are via the color they're emitting. Now remember the blaze boss Minecraft had a vote on to add or not to add? What if Tango is constantly mistaken as a high ranking blaze because of how intense his fire is and he doesn't get attacked a whole lot except for the few that want to challenge him. Meanwhile Tango is just highly infused with redstone like all the other redstoners and he doesn't know what's happening half time as seen by his terrified scream-laughs /hj

He's also semi modified with redstone for the pure purpose of comms just like the other redstoners minus mumbo. I also would've leaned into the steampunk aspect of this season but I figured I'd do a character sheet like etho for all of the redstoners and finalize the aspects on those.

Onto Impulse!

I like to imagine that Impulse was a regular human and over the course of redstone exposure he gained pointed ears and horns. For what reasons? I have no idea but redstone works in mysterious ways and mutates on whatever happens to be in their system. You may see that he has purple lines across his face but then red pupils, why is that? Well since he's cyperpunk themed this season he modified his redstone implants to be rgb. He can change everything else except his pupils because those are deeply affected by redstone and would require surgery to remove the build up of redstone. Will any of the redstoners ever actually get rid of it? No but you can beg all day.

You also might be wondering what's happening in their ears? Well those are the advanced comms that are actually used across all hermits except the ones who've opted out for glowstone variants. They kinda work like bluetooth except more hermit-magic way. I haven't had time to fully think of how it'd work down to the circuitry (that's my usual process for headcanons before I ship them out) but I'll post about it when I think of the full layout. Other design aspects on impulse are derived from his skin and the poster design by applestruda!

Process wise for this piece was kinda a rollercoaster heh. I had started this piece a while ago (can't remember the day on the dot) and then I got insanely busy during the last week of hermitaday. I had done sketch, refined sketch and flats in two days. Then events proceeded forth and we arrive on the 4th which I tried for an entire day to figure out how to render this piece. I then gave up and tried again the day after and pulled up references this round on Pinterest. Tango was surprisingly easy to paint with ref and went rather fast. I will admit the entire time I was rendering him I did say every minute or so "I love you man" because he was turning out so good. Halfway through I then realized I still had to render Impulse. That's when I pretty much ended that night because it was already 5 am working on Tango and demotivation was setting in fast. The next day I was able to continue with hesitancy on Impulse but I managed to keep on keeping on and in the early hours of today I finished up the piece. Where I'm now writing about it close to 2 pm in a restaurant. Man though it was kinda hard to make Impulse and Tango look like cohesive and as if they were painted together.

Enjoy!

(Side note I applied for inprint and if I am to be accepted this will be available along side the three different eefs I've drawn and doc.)

[hanasnx]

re-hash

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference

JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."

He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.

"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.

You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."

He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"

"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.

"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.

"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.

Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"

"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.

His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.

"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.

He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"

You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"

He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."

"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."

[chlorinecake]

Imagine slow but rough sex with Jungwon cause he found out that you were not being yourself.

"Baby's not feeling well, hm?

"yeah, fuck everyone. But, I can fuck you up harder"

"Insecure? Baby, you got a pussy that can make any man pray"

"Cry over my cock instead, yeah?"

Fuck Now, Talk Later | Y.JW

▹ PAIRING : soft dom! bf! jungwon x subby! gf!reader

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ SUMMARY : Just Jungwon fucking your tears away with a bit of rough COMFORT SEX because you’re too pretty to cry over anything other than his cock.

▹ CONTAINS : ⚠︎ swearing, kissing, praise kink, pet names (angel, kitty, good girl), unprotected sex (cowgirl variations), mild dacryphilia, mentions of insecurities, reference to cigar use

▹ WORD COUNT : 2.2k — special tags for my fellow won-girlies @candewlsy and @theothernads ⋆.˚

Your eyebrows that were once screwed into little bows of frustration atop your face had finally popped, a stream of tears spilling over your cheeks as you ran straight to your bedroom, where you sobbed your sorrows into the sheets…

It wasn’t long before your boyfriend Jungwon realized you had got back home from hanging with your friends already, though…

Standing up from his reading nook in the living room, he went off in search for you, following the hushed sounds of your cries all the way to the bedroom.

And there you were… curled up into a tight ball of sadness as you sniffled beneath the sole comfort of your zip-down hoodie, hiding your face from him.

“Aww,” your boyfriend started gently, walking over to sit beside you on the mattress… “What’s the matter, hm?… Baby's not feeling too well?…”

You felt his hand caress the dip in your waist now as you laid down, but it only made you tense up, feeling worse for burdening him.

“N-no, Wonie… I just hate crying like this… especially in front of you…,” you managed to say, trying to give him a hint that you wanted to be alone for a few moments, but he persisted anyways.

“You never have to hide your emotions from me, love…” Jungwon encouraged, briefly breathing against your cheek before kissing the skin there, “It’s important that I see these parts of you, too, y’know?…”

You had been dating Jungwon for a little less than a year now, and one relationship goal that has always been the same for him was prioritizing your comfort.

He wanted you to be okay with sharing all types of intimacy… not just the parts that involved sex.

Naturally though, your boyfriend was never really an emotional person, and yet he strived to become better in that aspect because of you… because he knew there’d be a time where you needed that emotional comfort from him more than anything—

“Please, ____,” Jungwon’s voice sounded from behind you, “just tell me what’s wrong, baby…”

You sighed at his pleading before answering, not meeting his eyes only for him to scan your face anyways, admiring how lovely your teary eyes looked in this moment.

“I don’t know, Wonie… I guess I’ve just… I haven’t been feeling like myself, lately…”

“Ahh… so you’re telling me my pretty girl has got herself all worked up over insecurities again?”

“Well- it’s not just that… s-someone said that I’ve changed for the worse…”

It was earlier while you were hanging out with your friends…

One of the girls there, who you remembered as your former smoking buddy, had some pretty nasty things to say about you once she found out you had been trying to quit using.

“Yeah, you might’ve quit the pen, but all those lingering nerves are making you eat yourself to death, now… just look at your legs… they’ve gotten so big since the last time we spoke…”

Sighing at the memory, you sat up on the bed now, looking back at Jungwon’s stoic expression that spoke a thousand words for itself as he went on to ask:

“Are you seriously gonna let those empty words get you upset like this?…”

His hand was on your thigh, distracting you from answering at first until you decided to simply shake your head at his question, feeling the tears erupt within you all over again.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon,” you croaked with a squeaky voice, feeling yourself hiccup a bit from sniffling so hard, “I’m so sorry for being this way…”

For being your dysfunctional, basket-case of a girlfriend, you wanted to add, but the words got caught in the anxious web of your own mind, a spider feeling as though it’d just crawled down your throat as you continued bullying yourself in your head.

Jungwon had never seen you so sad before, and the way you just leaned into him while sobbing into the crook of his neck made his heart sink and swell at the same time.

The moisture from your face peppered his shoulders as he gently caressed your back, cooing within the sullen air.

“Don’t apologize when you did nothing wrong, ____,” he demanded with a whisper, pulling away from the hug to look in your face, “you understand me?”

You nodded again, making him smile softly as he kissed away the tears trailing your left cheek, his free, sweater-gloved hand wiping the other side.

“I just wanna feel better, already… regardless of what other people think of me,” you say as the end of his sleeve kept patting at your tears.

“And you will,” Jungwon went on, tilting his head at you with a thumb running over your lower lip. “Fuck those people and their opinions, ____…” he said, kissing you on the corner of your lips but only going in for more once you hummed in approval.

But of course, the tears came back, and you’re not sure why, but they wouldn’t stop.

“It’s okay, angel… let it all out,” Jungwon whispered against your lips, but you turned your head, letting your back find the mattress and covering your face.

“I … I can’t, Wonie… I hate feeling like such a crybaby over the smallest of things,” you sniffled, vision blurring with the amount of tears spilling over the edge of your lash bed now.

“Move your hands, love… I don’t like it when you hide your face from me…”

You look so gorgeous when you cry, your boyfriend wanted to add, but decided not to let his dirty thoughts thrive in this moment…

He opted to lay down beside you instead, joining your flat posture on the mattress before trailing a hand from the top of your knee and up to the point where the skirt you wore was hiked up over your hips now.

And yes, you weakly tried to swat his hands away, but he persisted, pulling your skirt back over your curves before hooking his first finger at the hem of your black, lace panties.

“You can always cry over my cock instead,” he whispered in a low voice now, his offer drawing you back to the present and out of your thoughts as the feeling of his hand inching closer to your core made your thighs tense up.

“W-Wonie~” your breath hitched, his fingers feeling cold against your warm skin as you failed to meet his lustful gaze.

“No no no, look at me… tell me how you want me to help you feel better, yea?”

With the last bit of willpower you had, you let your puffy eyes flicker up to meet his face, shuddering as you felt your panties slip lower and lower from their original position.

“I don’t really know what to say, Jungwon,” your voice came out below a whisper, your anxious thighs squeezing together as if it’d help hide the expanse of flesh from his eyes.

But his eyes weren’t looking there, anyways, being more concerned with the expression on your face than anything.

“Want me to help fuck all those tears away, kitty?... Is that what my pretty baby needs?”

And just like that, you felt it… the fiery rush in your stomach letting you know that it was only a matter of time before he had you bouncing on top of him, begging for more…

But as much as your body wanted to say yes, your mind was still making you feel insecure, especially as your panties were completely gone at this point, your hesitant body still trying to ease into his touch as he sat you in his lap.

Jungwon let his hands caress over the bow you tied around your thighs as your weight sunk into the straddle… your beautiful, soft, and perfect thighs…

Your hands found his shoulders for leverage, right as he kissed the center of your lips, humming at the way you clung to him now.

Your nose was still a bit stuffy from crying so much, so the kiss ended up being a lot sloppier than usual which only helped to turn you on even more.

“Such a good girl,” Jungwon muttered breathlessly as you suddenly broke from the contact, watching as you got to work on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants.

Climbing back over him, you simply hovered over his length, kissing him one more time on the lips before sliding him into you, tensing up a bit at the sensation.

“Mmm,” you hummed, feeling his hands push your thighs down just to help speed things up a bit.

And it didn’t take long for you to start moving once he was fully inside you, those pretty feline eyes of his becoming heavy at the relief his cock found in your pussy.

Letting his back fall against the bed, Jungwon kept his hands at your waist as you continued bouncing on his cock, a red hue blushing to your cheeks now as he started playing with your boobs.

“You’re taking me so well today, baby,” your boyfriend whispered in a low voice while squeezing the flesh of your tits in his hand, “always look so pretty while bouncing on my cock…”

You whimpered slightly at the painful feeling coupled with his dirty words, clenching around his member as the pace of your hips grew faster with your need.

“W-wonie~” you began to say, holding onto his wrists as his hands stayed cupped around your breasts.

“What is it, baby?” He asked in an almost cloyingly sweet tone, taking one of his free hands and pinching your cheek to make you blush even more.

“W-want you to fuck me, Wonie… p-please,” you whine in between feeling his thumb find the inside of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you finally meet his eyes again.

“You gotta be more specific, kitty,” he says, catching on to the way you visibly sulk at his words, “how does my pretty girl want to be fucked?”

As frustrated as you were starting to feel with his teasing, you couldn’t help but keep bouncing in his lap, practically drooling over the way his tip felt sliding against all the best parts inside you.

“Need you to be rough with me, Wonie,” you manage to say breathlessly, eyes tearing up now at the rollercoaster of emotions, “need you so bad—”

“Shhh… I’ve got you, baby,” Jungwon cooed, moving his thumb from your mouth and swiping the moisture from your eyes, “gonna help you feel so much better…”

You felt his touch guide you against his stomach now, your face resting in the crook of his shoulder as he held you against him with his strength, thrusting himself inside you.

And you almost couldn’t believe that he was starting off so fast, gripping a handful of your hair as tiny grunts fell from his lips, your eyes pricking with moisture as he kept pounding into you.

“God, p-please… go harder,” you whined out weakly, only to moan as his grip on your hair tightened, a string of curses falling from his mouth as his hips snapped into you even faster.

“Let me see those pretty tears of yours again, baby… let me know how good I’m making you feel…”

The sound of skin against skin would be impossible for anyone outside to ignore at this point, especially with the way you kept whining for him...

“Feels so good, Wonie,” you cried out, feeling the band in your stomach tighten as your climax treaded closer and closer to spilling over the edge, “need you to make me cum so badly…”

“Already?” Your boyfriend asked with a slight chuckle to his tone, even though he knew he wasn’t gonna last very much longer himself, “my pretty girl is always so needy for my cock, isn’t she?”

“Y-yes, yes,” your voice came out in erotic moans as your pussy throbbed with a burning need.

Only a few more seconds had passed before you were squirming on top of him, his hands having to hold you down given how much your body trembled.

“Nghh,” Jungwon’s voice followed right after, just as the feeling of his release coating your walls became obvious to you, a string of mumbled praise slipping from his mouth.

And all you could do was whimper at your boyfriend’s words, both of your hips riding out their highs as his lips found your face, kissing away the tears there as you melted into his touch.

Eventually, he let his dick slip out of the comfort of your warm hole, caressing your back as you returned a kiss to his lips, missing the closeness already…

“Feel any better?” Jungwon asked, a faint smile creeping upon his delicate features as you adored the sight of him in your own heart.

“Thanks to you, yes,” is the last thing you remembered saying in that moment, your tingly legs still straddling his lap as fell back into his embrace, grateful to have a boyfriend as perfect as him…

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Thanks to everyone who read this quick little fic! If you're interested, feel free to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more works like this !!

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr @sussyjake

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (5)

When it comes to enhancing the aesthetic and functional qualities of your floors, solid color epoxy flooring stands out as a top choice. Renowned for its durability and ease of maintenance, this sleek flooring option offers a seamless look that transforms any space into a modern haven. Beyond the allure of solid colors, the world of epoxy flooring also features exciting variations like the vibrant epoxy flake floors. These innovative surfaces blend color flakes into a clear resin, providing a unique texture and visual appeal that can suit any design vision. 

Solid Color Epoxy Floor

When it comes to flooring solutions, the solid color epoxy floor stands out for its durability and aesthetic appeal. This type of flooring is created by mixing epoxy resin with hardeners, resulting in a seamless, impermeable surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic and harsh conditions.

One of the significant advantages of solid color epoxy floors is their versatility. These floors can be customized to fit various color schemes and designs, making them an excellent choice for both residential and commercial spaces. Whether you prefer a bold and vibrant tone or a more subtle hue, there's a solid epoxy color to meet your needs.

Additionally, the maintenance of a solid color epoxy floor is relatively simple. Regular cleaning with mild soap and water is often sufficient to keep the floor looking new. This low-maintenance feature, combined with its long-lasting nature, makes it a cost-effective flooring solution in the long run.

Epoxy Flake Floor

If you're looking for a versatile and aesthetically pleasing flooring option, epoxy flake floor is an excellent choice. This type of flooring combines the durability of epoxy with the decorative flair of colored flakes, creating a unique surface that's both functional and attractive.

One of the main benefits of epoxy flake floors is their resilience. They are resistant to stains, impacts, and chemicals, making them perfect for high-traffic areas such as garages, basements, or commercial spaces. Additionally, the textured surface of flake flooring provides excellent slip resistance, which enhances safety in both residential and industrial environments.

Beyond their practicality, epoxy flake floors offer endless design possibilities. You can choose from a variety of colors and sizes for the flakes, allowing you to customize your flooring to match your personal style or brand image. Whether you prefer a subtle blend or a bold statement, flake flooring can transform your space into a visually stunning area that stands out.

Flake Flooring

Flake flooring is an innovative and versatile flooring solution that combines aesthetics with durability. One of the defining features of flake flooring is its unique blend of colorful chips or flakes that are embedded into a clear epoxy base. This method not only enhances the visual appeal of the floor but also provides a strong, long-lasting surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic and wear.

Another significant advantage of flake flooring is its customizable nature. Homeowners and business owners can choose from an array of colors, shapes, and sizes of flakes, allowing them to create a floor that perfectly matches their style or corporate branding. This customization makes flake flooring an excellent choice for various applications, from residential garages to commercial spaces.

Moreover, flake flooring is easy to maintain. The smooth surface of the epoxy prevents dirt and grime from becoming lodged in the seams, making clean-up a breeze. With proper maintenance, flake flooring can maintain its vibrant appearance for years, making it a practical and stylish flooring choice.

[fhrlclln]

miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader pt. 1

SPOILERS ??!!

now we all know this man has some serious anger issues lmao but who wouldn’t love a grumpy man having this deep unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, right!? right. and along with that, SMUT! such a beautiful combo. but mild smut for now.

but here is some mild miguel smut for y’alls horny ass (and mine) <3

here’s part 2 !!

mild smut under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

spiderman 2099. miguel. miguel motherfucking o’hara.

leader of the spider-society, an elite crew of various spider people from all across the multiverse, their mission to protect the multiverse from any threat that may come. sure, knowing how crazy it sounds that the multiverse is real and that— there are more variations of the spiderman you knew since all before this shitshow happened.

and to say, your relationship with the leader wasn’t all that bright in fact.

you’re not a spider person yourself but sometimes you wish you are seeing how fucking cool spider-woman, jessica drew, a fellow member, along with other members coming in are (hobie, gwen, pavitr and so on.) but no radioactive spider ever bit you sadly. you are human, human as ever working under miguel o’hara as his assistant (more of a manager really) even though he has lyla, the virtual sweetheart, you still had some things you can do which are a big help in all the management for the spider-society.

miguel, as a boss, well— he’s a fucking menace sometimes as you grit your teeth to yourself, walking swiftly into the familiar hallways you always passed through, captured anomalies around your vision until you arrive at the fairly narrow one, meaning you were almost close. all the people knew how fucking grumpy he was, always snapping out of nowhere, sharp comments and unnecessary hurtful ones too when he’s super mad. you’ve dealt with all of that since the foundation was found— and he’s kinda a loner. you sigh, knowing from the looks of what has happened today regarding miles morales, things weren’t looking so great. and you had to ask him somehow about the situation and see how it goes, well not or not.

your feet echoed through the vast space of his lab, his platform was up high as always and you can hear him grumbling a top, watching every scenario of what happened. your heels clicked as you stopped, looking up, blue light restricting your vision as you coughed for his attention. cringing already inside as you heard the audios pause.

then silence.

silence….

more silence….

silenceeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

“what?” he asks from above in a clip manner.

“heard from lyla.” you merely quip back, shrugging your shoulders.

“and?” he grunts, resuming his work as the platform above descends down. ah, sassy. you think, usual miguel— not the mad one, real lifesaver for whatever you’re gonna say right now.

“nothing.” you say, waiting for the damn platform to come down faster. “i may have a few questions where this leads-“

“what questions?” he asks, the platform finally stops at the usual height, making miguel who’s back is turned from you visible.

“about the situation. miles morales.”

“ask lyla about that.” he dismisses you again, tone a little sharper. the back of his muscles flex, super suit clinging tight, his mask the only one that was removed. tousled dark hair seen as he clicks away on his screen, the voices of miles and gwen emitting. you gulp, sighing as you tried for one more.

“it’s more of a personal question for you-“

“has it ever occurred that i don’t answer those kind of questions?” he cuts you off, the footage he was watching paused as he slowly turned around to finally face you. your eyes meet his, familiar red ones looking down at you, face scrunched a bit as if he was annoyed already,

“i know.” you slowly say as he crosses his arms. muscle bulging, making you avert from his gaze for a moment, which embarrassed you. “but all i’m saying or asking is that are you going to make it easy for the kid?”

something in his eyes snap at your question. he jumps down, landing swiftly in front of you as he stands up, towering your frame. you roll your eyes, his shadow blocking the light from you as his hands were situated on his waist, meaning he was ready to argue. but you can’t argue how eager you feel seeing how close he is. heat radiating from him, the way he never leaves his eyes off you and his overall presence.

“what is easy in all this, really, huh?” he harshly spits out. “the faith of the multiverse is in danger. and who’s responsible to fix that? me! so no, i’m gonna make it easy for the kid. he was the one who started all of this if you can remember.”

“oh, i remember and i remember clearly telling you how all of this— this is happening is very much-“

“no, no, no. that is completely out of the logical reason for why this happening. not the reason at all.” he says, his brow scrunching together as you too became fairly annoyed that he was cutting you off. an ass really.

“out of the reason? maybe it is the reason if you think about it!” you retort back, huffing out a sigh as he shakes his head turning away from you.

“miguel.” you call out to him. “miguel, for once, try and see through this. through miles.”

“i have a lot of things to do, y/n. arguing with you is not one.” he commands, as your shoulders sink, the familiar feeling of disappointment washing over you from his words.

“maybe if you could listen to me, we wouldn’t be arguing.” you stared at him with hard eyes, he tensed, looking to the side before he swiftly walks towards you again.

“why would i, huh?” he glares at you. “do you know everything i know enough to make everything right in the multiverse?” he stalks over to you, intent to make you listen clearly as you back away a bit from him but he doesn’t stop. “no. so no, there is no point in listening to you.” he growls the last sentence, the lump in your throat bitter as you two stared down at each other before he utters his last insults. the buzz of something blooms between you both. you could feel it, he could feel it. the two of you were just contemplating in the inside as miguel steps a bit closer to whisper it.

“you’re my assistant, know your place.”

your eyes widened at his words. but you could not shake the fact how deep he said it, the rumble in his voice making your brain go haywire at all the emotions you are feeling right now for him. the breaking point of your patience at its peak as you glared at him harshly, his face close to yours as you cursed at him.

“fuck you, miguel.” you spit out. his face suddenly changed as he fucking smirked. smirked! you stare at him as he opens his mouth to spit something out as well in retaliation for your insult.

“really? that’s all you got? i thought you were better at this, churri.” his smirk widens as you shy away, suddenly flustered at how fast he can make you embarrassed. you could feel his chest close to yours as you avert his hard gaze, making the said man snap something inside of him seeing you all crumpled beneath him.

“you’re all bark but no bite, sweetheart.” he whispers as you didn’t look at him. “look at me.”

the subtle growl in his voice caused you to obey him. you look up to meet his eyes again, seeing them red as ever, red with that low gaze that makes your thighs clench hard. the slow breaths between the two of you are only heard as miguel leans down, face closer to yours now.

“what’s making you shy, huh?” he asks, the argument from earlier clearly out of his head as he focuses on you. his one hand creeping up to gently caress yours, urging you to say it.

“miguel, please, stop playing with me.” you grumbled, ashamed how you liked how he was acting now. “it’s not funny.”

“i’m not joking around, am i?” he sasses but you held your hard gaze on him which he surrenders. “alright, i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.” you sighed, knowing there will never be a genuine sorry from him which leaves you utterly defeated, more upset how you know he’s toying with your emotions right now. “i’ll take my leave.”

“y/n, don’t…”

“please stop.” you raise your hand for him to stop.

“i’m sorry.” he genuinely says, gripping your hand gently back down, squeezing it softly. his big gloved hand envelops yours as you studied his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking around. miguel practically knew what’s going on between the two of you, which of course why he liked arguing with you. the way your eyes would dilate all the time and beat of your heart racing whenever he gets super close to your personal space. addicting yet a dick move he was doing because in all, he very much likes you. and this time, this time it all snaps at the pinnacle seeing you shamelessly stare at his lips.

“thank you.” you softly say, glancing at his lips, the fangs subtly showing behind them as miguel swiftly dips forward to finally kiss you with such fervor.

your eyes widened as you gripped his broad shoulders, toes tip toeing, heart pounding as his arms wrapped around your waist. you moan out on his lips as you kissed him back the same passion. months of ignoring the unspoken tension between the two of you and at this moment it happened! you think that this all sinks in because of the situation, and you are right in your head. all of this should happen.

“miguel.” you pant breathily between his lips as he shushed you with another one, too lost in the moment.

“miguel please.” you begged for more as his hands dip down to squeeze your ass, lifting you up effortlessly with his spidey strength as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips.

“i know.” he kisses your chin down to your neck, slowly walking to the desk nearby. your breasts squished together with his hard chest as you grind down, feeling the evident bulge underneath you.

“you’re an ass, ya know?” you mumbled in his ear as he sits you down on the desk, objects scattering at the impact. he continues his ministrations, the things he was supposed to do are far long gone in his head as his hand dip down to where your legs were open for him.

“that i certainly know.” he admits, you giggle suddenly knowing how defensive he is when people point that out.

“but right now, i’m being very nice, amor. very nice.” he whispers, nipping your ear as his gloved hand touches you there, the pencil skirt you were wearing scrunched up above your knees. you gasp, clutching his shoulders again as he chuckles lowly, feeling the wetness as his eyes stared at you with this animosity as he kneels down, kissing your thighs before he sharply opens your thighs wide. your covered cunt staring right before him, begging to be eaten and he sure will be. he looks up to see you, this wild look in your eyes as you nodded for approval which makes him genuinely smile.

“i’m feeling generous today. it’s a once in a lifetime scenario, huh? so you better feel lucky today.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

I HOPE I DIDN’T MAKE MIGUEL OOC CUZ I ONLY WATCHED THE MOVIE ONCE. ANYWAYS PART 2? <3

[444ngles]

You know you want me

synopsis: some variation of either you or your partner taking an aphrodisiac. content: fem reader, gojo, nanami, toji, geto, rough sex, angry sex, taking of aphrodisiac, work sex, masturbation, dirty talk, teasing, oral, penetration, praise, degradation, hair pulling, choking, mild exhibition, slapping, all big dicks duh

Gojo

Exhausted was an understatement. As you dragged yourself through the front door, the serene silence welcomed you with open arms. 

‘Finally, some peace and quiet’ you thought, kicking your shoes aside and dropping onto the plush of your couch. 

Although…It shouldn’t have been this quiet. Where was Gojo? Your boyfriend had texted you that he was on his way home over an hour ago. What had he gotten up to? Maybe he’d taken a nap?

Feeling the urge to check, you stumbled your way to the slightly ajar bedroom door, peeping through the gap. Careful not to wake him, you hold your breath, straining to make out his form in the dusk of your room. The bedside lamp was shone, on its dimmest setting, and the curtains were drawn shut. It took longer than usual for your eyes to adjust, but when they did, you couldn’t help but wish they hadn’t

Shocked, you freeze, finally able to make out his hunched posture, one hand covering his mouth the other rapidly jerking beneath the sheets. 

Subtle groans and grunts slipped from his muffled lips, eyebrows shrewd together as he fucked into his fist. Mesmerised, you couldn’t help but watch as his toned abs flexed and relaxed, his hips thrusting upwards, even his arms seemed tense, veins pulsing against his milky skin. 

“O-oh f-fuck, yes. Yes!” Suddenly, head thrown back, Gojo pistoned into his tight grip faster and harder, so much so that the covers fell from atop of him, revealing his furiously red tip, shooting rope after rope of thick, white cum. His orgasm painted your sheets, his hand gripping his mouth so hard you could see his skin turning a painful red. 

Over and over he pumped his length, but still, even after his orgasm ended he seemed to remain impossibly hard. 

Relaxing his grip, Gojo fell slack against your headboard, hands falling to his side. His frustration was evident…something about it was arousing. Then, as if he felt your presence, he looked straight at the door, crystal-coloured eyes meeting yours. “Finally! You’re home… help me, please?” 

Never had you known Gojo to whine like he did then, sounding like a wounded puppy as he brought his hands together, begging for your assistance. Almost pitying him, you can’t help the faux pout as you climb on the bed, ruffling his soft white tufts of hair. “What’s wrong my love?”

“My dick…it hurts, so bad!” Eyes glossy, cheeks flushed, you can’t even begin to imagine how long he’d been going at it. 

“Let me kiss it better…” Lowering yourself to his lap, laying on your stomach between his thighs, you bring your plush lips to his glossy tip. From just the one kiss, Gojo shuddered, gripping the sheets at his side. Sure enough, he must have been beyond overstimulated at this point. “Does that feel good?” 

Nodding desperately, Gojo reaches to sink his fingers into your hair, softly gripping at your scalp. “M-more, please.”  Biting down harshly on his bottom lip, he braces himself for the contact, as if even the slightest touch could make him bust. 

“Yes sir…as you wish.” Kiss after kiss, his grip on your head tightened, a sign of growing arousal. Then, sticking your tongue out, you swirl it around the underside of his tip, before licking your way to his slit. 

“Nghh that’s it, don’t st-top.” With heavy breaths, Gojo’s thighs tensed and relaxed either side of your head, feeling his balls clench as you left warm stripes of saliva across every inch of his painfully hard cock. From his base, up his shaft and to his leaky tip, you left no inch untouched. Just what he needed to soothe his unbearable ache. 

Tantalising fingers wrapped around him, feeling how his cock twitched and throbbed for joy. “Needed me that bad hmm? How had you coped?” Cooing at this new and submissive side to your otherwise smart-mouthed and quick-witted boyfriend, you couldn’t resist the urge to make the most of it. 

Lips parted, you bring them to his throbbing head, sinking your head onto his length slowly, only stopping when his tip hit the back of your throat. Your hands, meanwhile, worked on his base and balls. Unable to withstand your blatant teasing any longer,his hips shot up, grip on your scalp holding you in place as he fucked himself deep into your throat. Truthfully, he’d been working on his erection for over an hour, to no avail it just wouldn’t go down. While watching you think you were dominating him was hot, he simply couldn’t wait anymore. 

Shrieking and gasping, you slap at his thigh, begging him to stop. “Sa-Satoru sto-stop!” Muffled by his cock filling your mouth, repeatedly abusing the back of your throat, he barely noticed your panic. As blood rushed to his ears, pulse so strong he thought his veins might burst, your gurgles and gags took a backseat in his mind. Gojo just needed to cum, and now. 

“ ‘M so sorry, my gorgeous g-girl…” Teeth clamped together, he muttered praise after praise, watching in utter bliss as fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sinfully glossing those dollish eyes that he loved so much. 

“I’m so close, f-fuck…” With each thrust, Gojo felt his balls clenching, tighter and tighter as your mouth sucked him in, constricting around his fat head as you gasped for air. 

When the shock wore off, you found yourself entranced by how rough he was being, so drunk on the way his cock mercilessly abused your throat, you felt your cunt begin to throb. Desperate to see your boyfriend’s fucked out expression, you looked up through glossy eyes, blown out pupils and slack jaw a testament to his pleasure. Feeling his need to release, you hollow out your cheeks, sucking his cock sinfully down your throat, making it harder to thrust in and out. 

“Mngh…that’s it, that’s it baby, so good!” Grunts heavier now, Gojo’s pace became sloppier, barely pulling out before he was back down your throat again. Struggling to take his throbbing tip, chocking and gagging around him, Gojo shuddered at the feeling of your throat tightening. “F-fuck, I’m going to c-cum.” 

Almost whiney, you can’t help but moan in return, so turned on by the sight before you, you thought you might cum too. Soon enough, his eyes were clenching shut, head rolling back and jaw dropping open, as his thighs trembled beside you. Finally, hot ropes shot down your throat, Gojo’s thrusts ceasing as he pumped you full of his cum, making you swallow every drop. Only when you tapped his thigh, clearly desperate for air, did he pull out. 

Coughing and heaving, you roll onto your back, throat soar and coarse, you could only hope you’d be able to speak tomorrow. Shutting your eyes, you fight to catch your breath, relaxing into the plush of the sheets beneath you. It’s  when you hear the rustling of a wrapper that you finally open them, looking up at Gojo. 

“Want to go again?” Cheeky smile painting his face, you can’t help but gape your mouth in shock. Sucking at the sweet he’d just popped into his mouth, he extends his hand to pass you the empty wrapper.

“You’re joking?” Sitting up right, you grab it from him.

“Nope…read it.” Nodding to imply he meant the wrapper, he watched in anticipation as you digested the cause for his untamable erection. 

“W-what…why have you just had another?”

“It was a gift. Now take those panties off.” 

Nanami 

As Nanami’s personal assistant, it was your job to photocopy, type up his notes and most importantly, make his tea. For some reason, your boss was really picky about his daily brew, almost snobbish in his criticism. “Why is it cold?” “You took the tea bag out too early!” “This tastes like dishwater…did you add sugar?” 

How hard could it be to make a simple cup of green tea, in the same simple mug? Still, he found ways to complain, forcing you to remake them over and over with no remorse. Other than this, Nanami was a fair employer, always understanding and happy to turn a mistake into a teaching moment - not when it came to his beloved beverage, however. 

Today, like any other, you were in the kitchenette, boiling the water and ripping open the paper wrapper. You hadn’t thought to question the new packaging, with the usual plain green being replaced with an almost effervescent pink. Who were you to doubt the tea change, he ordered them, it was simply your job to make it! 

“Hurry up! How long does it take to make a drink?”

 Pulling a mocking face you repeat his words in a soured voice, stirring the water into the cup more aggressively than usual. If he rejected this, you just might have lost your mind. 

Bringing it to his side, and placing it on his coaster, you sighed as he ignored you, too busy writing to even acknowledge you. “Your tea, sir.” 

Nodding, he takes it in his hands, polite pinky held in the air as he brings the mug to his lips, taking a prolonged sip. “You know what…this might be the best one you’ve made yet!?” Surprised, you might have even caught a glimpse of a smile! Something Nanami rarely offered you the pleasure of. 

“It’s probably those new tea bags you ordered! They looked quite nice.” Chatting casually, you barely noticed his confused expression. 

“Sorry, new tea bags?” 

“Yeah…the pink ones.” 

The room fell silent, if you hadn’t known better you might have tried to lighten the mood, but you knew it was best you silently returned to your desk, opposite his and did something productive. Despite his initial shock to find out his beloved tea had been replaced, he continued taking sip after another, almost buzzing for joy as the warm liquid slipped down his throat - he hadn’t tasted anything remotely close to this. The velvety feel was almost luxurious, bitter and subtly fruity, he just had to check out these teabags before he went home. 

Apprehensively, you looked from your desk to his, waiting for his next command, but for what felt like hours, he was silently working through his paper, even getting up once to make copies of his own. You only hoped you could give him tea like this again, you’d never had an easier day at work in your life. However, with an hour to go before the work day ended, the air in the office suddenly seemed to thicken, so stuffy you thought you could suffocate. At first you weren’t sure why, although it all made sense when Nanami finally called your name.

Hoarse voice croaking in his throat, you almost worried he sounded sick as he summoned you. “C-can you, bring me one of those tea bags…please?” Not only was your boss stuttering, but saying his please and thank yous? What had gotten into him. 

Nodding obediently, you scuttled to the kitchenette, grabbing what you needed and returning the side of his desk, placing the tiny package into his huge, calloused hand. Staring down at him and awaiting his next request, you can’t help when your eyes dropped down to his lap, which was turned to face you. 

Normally, you boss wasn’t one show any sign of vulnerability, or even humanity for that matter, but when you caught a glimpse of his throbbing bulge, his strange behaviour suddenly made sense. 

Rolling the pack back and forth between his fingers, Nanami brings a hand to his forehead, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“What the fuck have you fed me?” Flipping the packet to face you, you read the bold red writing, almost too large to miss. If you hadn’t been so flustered, you would’ve pointed out that this was the first time he’d cursed in front of you. 

‘Love tea: aphrodesiac (one cup a day)’ 

You almost choke, struggling to stifle your laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation. 

“What are you laughing at?” Nanami barks, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. Normally, his abrasive tone would’ve shut you up, but the way his cheeks flushed a delicate rose, and his eyes dejected to the floor in humiliation was honestly entertaining. 

“Where did you get these from, sir?” subtly giggling, you loose your balance slightly, leaning on the corner of his desk to keep you up right. 

“Me? This was clearly your doing. Trying to play some sick joke on me, right?” Now, more confused than ever, you can’t believe he was accusing you of this. Exaggerating your offence, you take a step back. 

“Even if I did, not much I can do to help you now.” Raising your hands either side of your head, you back away, attempting to return to your desk. 

Before you can he’s reaching for your waist, pulling you into his lap. “Where d’you think you’re going?” Firm grip holding you in place, you can’t help but squirm against him, pushing against his chest to get away. 

Realistically, this was almost a dream come true for you. As much as you found his audacity and self entitlement overbearing, there was something about the way he loosened his tie every time he relaxed in his chair, right opposite yours. Or the way he ran those veiny hands through his perfect blonde hair, biceps bulging through the shirt, fighting to contain his toned physique. God, if not for how morally wrong this power dynamic was, you would’ve begged him to fuck you long ago. 

“S-sir we can’t.” Whispering pathetically, you can’t help but feel disappointed at how small your voice sounded. If only you were strong enough to resist the urge, you were sure you could’ve broken free by now. But it was clear to the two of you that deep down, you needed this just as much as he did - shown by the way your legs subtly wrapped around his waist, pulling the two of you closer, arms draped delicately around his neck. 

“I make the rules right? I’m the boss…” Hot breath whispered against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine, straight to your throbbing cunt. 

Nanami couldn’t help but notice how your skirt had ridden up your thighs, the delicate curves of your ass on display, just for him. “Wow…a thong for an office job, now I really believe you did this.” 

“If that’s what you want to believe sir…” Smirking subtly, you pull away, looking deep into his eyes, admiring his blown out pupils, clearly desperate to release his pent-up stress on you.  

“Well…I’d like to believe you want me as much as I want you…” Whispering so sensually, Nanami began to guide your hips, pushing your gushing folds against his clothed erection, whimpering as he throbbed beneath you. “And I think I’m right…”

“H-hurrry.” Almost begging, Nanami can’t help but chuckle. Considering he was the one being chemically simulated, you were certainly the one who seemed more desperate. 

“Okay baby…so impatient.” Tutting, he pushes you towards his thighs, skillfully removing his belt and undoing his pants all with one hand - honestly, you expected nothing less of him. What you weren’t expecting, was how thick his cock was, as it flopped out his boxers, it stood tall and proud, a brutal size compared to any you’d seen before. 

“Shut that pretty mouth, or I won’t know what to do with myself.” Just knowing he was as crazy for you as you for him made your walls flutter, anticipating how he’d ruin you, here in his office. “Think you can take me?”

If not for your daze, you would’ve retorted at his cockiness, but you couldn’t even deny how wet you were for him. Lifting you back atop him, you help him in moving your panties aside, arousal stringing from the fabric. “F-fuck, so pretty…” Sucking in a sharp breath, Nanami aligned his tip with your sloppy entrance, watching your expression intently as he split you open with his mean girth. 

“O-o-oh my god, N-nanami!” Gasping and clutching at his wrists, you watch where the two of you meet, a ring of arousal forming around his base as he finally bottoms out inside you. “ ‘S too much, too much.” Struggling to contain your moans, your thighs shake either side of his waist, feeling so full. 

“You can take it, darling, I’ll help you…” Trying to help you losen up, his lips crashed onto yours, slow and sensual as his tongue prodded at your bottom lip, demanding an entrance. Simultaneously, his hands reached for the buttons of your shirt, undoing the top few so that your breasts were freed, clad in mesmerising black lace. If not for the fact that you were at work, he would’ve torn all the clothes from your skin, leaving them a pile by his feet. Instead, he grazed your nipples gently through the thin fabric, grunting in satisfaction when your walls tightened around him, clearly loving the contact. 

“Think you’re ready now?” In a softer voice than usual, Nanami, rocks your hips slightly, placing soft kisses along your collarbones and down your cleavage. “Y-yes, sir…” The sensation was intoxicating, the position he held you at letting your clit rub against his pelvis. 

Amused, he raised you for your seat on his lap, an inch at a time, waiting for the ‘pop’ sound as his tip slipped out, before slamming you back down. Almost violently, he abused your messy cunt, pistoning into your tight walls and drowning in the sea of moans and whines that spewed from your lips as a result. He used you like he would a fleshlight, for now you were his personal fuck toy, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of that didn’t excite you. 

“Fffuckk Nanami…” Leaving crescent-shaped claw marks around his wrist, you struggled to contain yourself, trying your best not to scream the walls down, but with how precisely he was hitting that spongey sensitive spot you thought you wouldn’t be able to take much more. 

“T-this is what you wanted when you made that tea right?” Fucking harder into you, you could’ve sworn he was almost getting impossibly harder. “You wanted to ride my cock like this.. Isn’t that right?”

Too fucked out to respond, you simply moan louder, jaw forming little ‘o’s in the air. You wish you could protest having any involvement in the mix-up, but if anything you were grateful for the mistake. When you did find out who was responsible, you might just have to thank them. 

Soon enough the warmth in your stomach began to pool, tightening and twisting with every thrust. “N-nanami, ‘m so…close.” Hitched breaths almost prevented you from forming coherent sentences.

“Cum for me…that’s it, good girl.”

With every other thrust, Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened, holding you in a vice grip, until he felt his own orgasm begin to approach. The closer he got, the weaker his thrusts, sloppier and less targetted. “Fuck…so tight…” As your walls tightened around him when your orgasm washed over you, so did his, holding you down on his length, feeling the way the both of you shook, enjoying the best highs of your lives. 

Once he had shot you full of his cum, he lifted you up, watching the mix of his and your fluids pour out from your fluttering hole and into his lap. Too your shock, even as you had caught your breath, Nanami’s cock was still furiously hard, throbbing in anticipation. 

“Get on my desk.” Rushing to meet his command, you swept the papers to the side, making space for yourself when you finally caught sight of the neon sticky note. 

‘Enjoy, the tea should help you loosen up - Gojo ;)’ 

“Uhmm… I think you want to see this.” 

Toji 

Currently, you were being dragged to the nearest taxi stand by your boyfriend and you knew you were in trouble. 

For the first time in months, Toji had offered to take you out to dinner, something he rarely did. To spice things up, you thought you’d offer to share some whiskey before you left, something you knew he could never resist - little did he know it was laced with an aphrodisiac. The two of you often played devious pranks on each other, tonight you were getting back at him for making you walk around, stuffed with a vibrator while having a picnic with some friends. 

You couldn’t wait to watch him shift in his seat, getting more and more worked up without knowing why. Just the thought of his flushed skin, pursed lips and slightly unkempt hair as he tried to conceal his arousal made your skin crawl with anticipation. 

However, you never got the chance to unveil your evil plan, with your insightful significant other being able to figure it out way too soon. The moment you had sat at your table, he knew something was off. The way your thighs were squeezed together, the way your lips were parted and pupils blown. While it was almost way too normal for him to have a hard-on, you were usually far too self-conscious to be so blatant with your desire. He didn’t even need to ask you what had happened when he remembered you sharing the drink with him - suddenly, he remembered how much you hated whiskey. 

“You’re such a bitch, you know that? Can’t even have a nice dinner without you wanting to hop on my cock.” 

Giggly, due to your intoxication, you couldn’t even argue with him. He was so right and who could blame you? You always wondered how you were able to bag the hunk of muscle that was Toji. Everything about him was just so huge and so overwhelming, how could he expect you to resist? 

“Shut up, I swear to god.” Jaw clenched, he struggled to flag down a car, yanking you into the first one that stopped. 

The moment you were back at your apartment, Toji had you pinned to the wall, vice grip on your neck so brutal you thought you might pass out. It wasn’t until you were seeing stars that Toji loosened his grip. “Such a filthy whore…” 

Toji was always mean, but at that moment he was almost violent, but with the chemicals flowing through your brain, each touch of his calloused skin, kind or not, went straight to your throbbing cunt. Noticing this, also affected by the drink, he spun you around, pressing your face to the wall, and pulling your ass against him, slotting a knee between your plush thighs. “Was this what you wanted?” 

Nodding, shamelessly, you find yourself rubbing against his thigh seeking any form of contact. 

You can hear him scoff as he lands a sharp slap to your ass, even the fabric of your dress couldn’t protect you from the sting. “P-please…”

“Please what? Speak up slut.” Landing another spank, your back arches into the wall, shrinking away from his touch. 

“Fuck me…please.” 

Toji couldn’t deny how much he needed you too, if not for his anger, he would’ve taken you there and then, but he had to put you in your place, even a little bit. “Hmmm…not sure you deserve it, baby.” 

“Please, T-toji, I need you to fill me up, so b-bad.” At this point, you weren’t sure whether it was the whiskey or just you talking, but as his hands slipped up your dress, you could barely contain yourself. Teasingly, his fingers looped around the hips of your panties, pulling and pinging them back against your skin, leaving painful marks in their wake. “Please…please, To-ji!” Begging desperately, you reach back for his wrists, but fail when he grabs them, pinning them against your lower back.

Toji wasn’t even speaking, usually, he couldn’t help but run his filthy mouth, describing what nasty things he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to ruin you. But now, he was silent, only the occasional grunt slipping from his lips. This made you feel uneasy, unable to predict his next move like you usually could. 

The hand that wasn’t holding your wrists rubbed the flesh of your ass, soothing the pain from before. Slowly he brought his hand under the fabric of your dress, letting it ride up until only your upper half was covered. “You’re fucking soaked.” Toji hissed, looking at the pool of arousal staining your white panties. 

Clearly unable to resist his urges any longer, you listen as he undoes his zipper, slacks falling to the floor before you feel his tip prodding at your clothed entrance. Shuddering at the sensation, you try to pull your hands away, but Toji’s grip tightens. “I’m going to fuck you so deep…so hard, you’ll be so fucking sorry.” 

There he was…the Toji you knew. 

Smiling in relief, you fuck back onto his weeping tip, letting it rub against your sensitive clit. “P-please do…” 

“That’s my girl…begging to be destroyed.” Smirking, he finally pulls your panties down, just enough to be able to slip his dick in. Without any warning, he’s splitting you apart on his massive length. He knew far too well just how big he was, and just how small you were in comparison. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the sight of your tight cunt struggling to stretch around him. “This is what you wanted…pretty fucking pussy.” 

Each word slipped straight past your ears and into your cunt, even as you tried to adjust to his size, your walls fluttered around him, sucking him sinfully in. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve taken that as a sign to bottom out, but he knew you weren’t ready yet - as angry as he was, he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Once you’d adjusted, Toji pulled out, all the way, tip teasing your entrance before it pummeled back in, now in its entirety, kissing your cervix. “F-fuck, s’too m-much Toji…” Breathless, you felt a tight knot in your throat, struggling to voice just how full you felt. This alone had your eyes rolling back, each thrust feeling more euphoric. 

Toji’s grunts and curses tickled the shell of your ear as he leant into you, face beside yours, the warmth of his body against yours engulfing you. Despite his mean thrusts, bruising your the sensitive spot inside you over and over again, his presence was still soft and loving, making you want to melt into him.

Cock drunk, you found yourself focusing on how the network of veins that decorated his erection dragged against your wall, feeling him so disgracefully inside you, you couldn’t possibly think of anything else. 

Reaching for your hair, Toji pulls to get you to be face to face with him, cheek still pressed harshly against the wall. He almost cums there and then when he catches a glimpse of your fucked out face, eyes so large and glossed with tears he couldn’t resist the need to kiss you. “My…perfect…pretty…girl…” With each kiss, he muttered words of praise, the only sign of his rage being how he bullied your sopping cunt, so hard and fast that your fluids dripped onto his thighs, painting his abdomen with your arousal. 

“I-I’m clo-se.” Barely managing to catch your breath, you mutter against his lips, moans and whines being swallowed by his hungry kisses.

“Cum on my cock…show me how good I make you feel…” Grunting desperately now, you can feel how he throbbed against your walls, constricting and milking him for all he had. Toji’s mindless babbles and continued rough pace brought you closer, but it wasn’t until hand released your hand, reached down to massage your clit that you were tipped over the edge. 

Toji groans, watching how your thighs shook against him, soft moans turning into screams and cries as your orgasm washed over your gorgeous face, contorting in uncontrollable. If not for his hold on you, you were sure you would’ve dropped to the floor. His manipulation of your clit was unrelenting, thrusting into your glistening cunt just as fast, completely unwavering. 

“T-toji s-s-top!” Gasping and whimpering, the sting of overstimulation almost paralysed you, tensing beneath him with no where to escape to.

“Shut up bitch, I haven’t cum yet…” 

Geto

‘Which one, which one?’ Eyes darting from one sake bottle, to another almost identical one, you couldn’t remember which one Geto had bought for this specific dinner. 

As a celebration for the opening of Geto’s new company, he had invited a few employees over. The three of them sat in the room over, loudly laughing and chattering as you helplessly read the labels of all the drinks in your husband’s collection. “Alcoholic asshole…” You curse, taking a light sip of the one that most matched the one Geto had described, while sniffing another. 

“Who’s an alcoholic asshole?” Snapping your head to face the door, you eye the man of the hour, clad in the most enticing black slacks and waist coat, sleeves rolled up so tastefully you thought you might bite them. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to tell these apart?” You sigh, slumping in despair, surrounded by the intimidating bottles.

Chuckling, he kneels down beside you, instantly grabbing the one he’d requested without much more than a second glance. Leaning over you, the woody scent of his cologne plugs your nostrils, the ends of his ebony hair tickling your wrists. Was he always this sexy? 

Despite being married for almost three years now, you felt like you’d only just noticed how beautiful Geto was, sharp eyes so intently reading over the bottle, powerful looking grip making you squirm. “This is it…see?” Turning the label to face you, you can’t even bring yourself to read it, eyes still drawn to him, sat on his heels before you, looking so fuckable. 

What was wrong with you? 

This was so out of character you almost couldn’t believe these were your thoughts. 

Geto laughs at your seemingly embarrassed expression, assuming it was about the alcohol. “Don’t worry baby…I know it-” As he reached to grab the open bottle, still in your hand, he freezes. It doesn’t take him a second to realise what had happened. “A-are you...feeling okay?” Anxious smile painted on his face, he tries to pull the aphrodesiac sake away from you, fixing the lid before putting it away. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Feighning your innocence, you still didn’t quite understand what had shook him so much, not until you finally read the label of the bottle, as you watched him lean to put it away. “O-oh…” Suddenly your thoughts made sense, you had noticed how warm you core had suddenly felt, but attributed that to being tipsy rather than horny.

“Why do you even have this?” Shocked expression, you barely care to hear his excuse. How could he send you in here knowing this was a possibility.

Sheepishly, Geto scratches at the back of his neck, “I was saving it for our anniversary…” 

Speechless, you simply shake your head, you’d just have to put up with it, there were guests in the other room. “Come on…I don’t want them getting any weird ideas.” With a slight wobble, you leave the room, Geto following closely behind you.

As wrong as it was, Geto secretly found this rather amusing, he’d never tried anything of the sort and couldn’t wait to see the affect it had on you - even if that was at the dinner table. 

“What took so long?” Gojo, Geto’s business partner called the moment he watched the two of you walk in. 

“Someone couldn’t find the wine.” Nudging your shoulder, he places the bottle onto the table, along with the cups you had collected earlier. You can’t help but roll your eyes whilst you take your seat, directly opposite your long time friend Shoko. The four of you had been close since highschool - it was a dream for all of you to work together, so having this dinner was honestly overdue. So for this to be ruined by one cup of laced sake pissed you off to say the least. 

Even as you sat, completely untouched, you couldn’t ignore how violently your cunt throbbed. Trying to ease your pain, you pressed your thighs together, barely hearing the conversation around you as the sudden friction sent a buzz of pleasure up your spine. Only when a cup of sake was thrust into your vision, did you return to the dinner, “Are you alright my love?” 

Looking at Geto, you wanted nothing more to smack that stupid smile off his face, the mischievous glint in his eyes missed by everyone but you. “Yeah, sorry…” Reaching for the cup, your fingers graze his. An otherwise normal interaction was anything but normal to you. Just the contact made the heat between your thighs intensify, arousal practically seeping through your skin. 

Geto pursed his lips, stifling laughter as he turns back to the others at the table, faux ignorance plastered ontop of his deceitful expression. By his face, you wouldn’t have been able to predict his intentions, however, when his hands slipped onto your knee, you almost couldn’t contain yourself. Still, Geto held an unbothered exterior, conversing as if it were nothing, but to you it was everything - thoughts consumed with him. Obsessed with his scent, his pretty face, those long fingers tracing your inner thigh and that fucking suit.

“Wan’t to come with me while I smoke?” Suddenly, Shoko’s hand is rubbing on yours, eyebrows thread together in concern. You were sure to her your arousal could’ve been mistaken for sickness or upset. As much as it was probably the right idea to get some fresh (Geto-free) air, your messy cunt spoke for you.

“No thats alright, don’t worry.” Flashing a comforting smile, she nods, pulling away from the table and heading outside. 

Now it was the three of you, Gojo, if anyone, was overly alert, and you couldn’t help but worry that he would notice. The soft circles Geto traced against your skin burned rings of fire in their place, you could barely stay up right, head dizzy with desire. 

“What about you? This company was your idea anyways.” Gojo’s voice startled you, making you realise just how little you’d been paying attention. 

“Sorry, what are we talking about?” Sheepishly you look between the two of them, hoping they’d catch you up. 

“Just talking about how sereal it all is, we planned this shit since we were 16! I mean…” You were doing so well, listening intently to every word that left Gojo’s mouth. Until, your attention was drawn away when Geto’s fingers slipped between your thighs, pushing your panties aside and running a slow finger between your folds, collecting your arousal.

“I-I’m so proud of us…honestly never thought we’d finally get to this point.” Despite keeping your answer short and sweet, you can’t help the shiver that interrupts you, unable to ignore the way his finger so casually grazed your clit. 

Luckily, Shoko had returned, drawing the attention from you and back to her - you could almost cry you were so grateful. Finally, Geto bothered to look at you, head resting in his hand as he watched you, fighting your instinct to squirm under his touch. Luckily, the other two were so preoccupied that they didn’t notice the way you twitched, or Geto’s sly smirk. 

If not for your guests, you knew you would’ve lept on your husband ages ago, having to wait only made your desire grow. 

‘I’m- going-to-make-you-cum’ Geto mouthed, so clearly it couldn’t have been mistaken for anything else. 

Before you could even retort, he’d turned away from you again. As he did, his finger finally settled on your clit, rubbing perfect circles on the sensitive bud. Your hands clenched into fists, grasping at the table cloth as Geto attempted to elicit a moan from you. No way could you let that happen, you wouldn’t dare embarrass yourself infornt of your friends and your husband knew that. 

Still, his pace increased, before he replaced his finger with his thumb, instead pushing the digit into your fluttering walls. If not for the loud chatter, you were sure they would hear how wet you were. Over and over he fucked into you, so hard and fast it was a shock that no one had noticed, or how he was able to remain so calm and controlled. Desperate to let out a moan, you turned your head to the side, covering your contorted expression.

Only when the tension in your stomach grew unbearable did you reach to grab his wrist, squeezing it to try and get him to stop. You knew if he didn’t you were about to reach your orgasm, right infront of your husband and two closest friend. But, to no avail it was to late, and your high washed over you with such intensity you barely managed to remain silent, thighs squeezing shut so intensely that Geto couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Caught of guard, a little whine slips out, forcing you to cover it up with a fake coughing fit. 

“Awe are you feeling unwell?” Cooin, Geto finally turns to look at you once more.”Maybe we should call it a day, get some rest?” Looking at the guests at the table, the nodded in agreement.

“She has been…off.” Shoko sighed,  a soft smile on her lips as she got up from her seat.

As they did, Geto leaned into your ear, whispering seductively about his plans for you tonight.

“I won’t stop until you’re begging me.”

[phoenixcatch7]

Luo binghe dies.

The system offers the widowed husband resurrection, the ability to continue the world even after the 'true' story has ended. Because the world cannot exist without its protagonist, it comes to a halt. No time will pass until he is revived.

Sqq gets dragged through stories and universes by the system, trying to wrack up the 10,000 points needed. It takes a long time. Far too long. He plays too many roles, spends too years unable to truly settle, goes through so much it all starts to blur together.

Seeing this, an unsatisfying, boring ending without closure getting ever more likely as Sqq continues to fail to remember why he's doing it, the system releases lqg, sqh and the ghost of lbh from the stasis of their world and sends them after him. As the only one with any real understanding of the situation, sqh takes the lead. After chasing his footprints through a handful of worlds (that sqh can sort of recognise, and he adapts rapidly) they are finally find him. But he can't recognise them. He's seen too much, been too much, hidden himself away in more and more layers, not wanting to think if anything outside of the immediate problems. He can only recall the reason he set out in the vaguest terms, deflecting and outright interrupting when pressed.

So lbh manages to pull them into sqq's psyche.

From there, it's like a really big, five dimensional onion. Each role Sqq has taken solidified into another barrier between him and the worlds he was forced to live in and lose in rapid succession. Nothing, individually compared to the world of pidw, but added up they're quite the defence. Inside each layer is a false Sqq hidden in the crowd wearing someone else's face, and an item or location important to that version of him that'll take them through to the next layer.

Each time, they find another thread to the peak lord they lost. Another habit, or memory, or trivia comes back to life. It gets easier and easier to identify him no matter the body he wears. They share stories about him during rests, or moments of travel, to help the others identify him too. They kinda sorta maybe bond.

Then, finally, after a world of zombies and inter sect wars, they find a mimicry of qjp, and Sqq at the table. He's confused but delighted to see them. Even sqh gets hugged. He's shaken at their story, but over the moon at finally reaching 10k points and more than ready to return to reality.

Congratulations! The system says, and offers them their return to the real qjp, with the points needed to save lbh and with it, the world.

Lbhs eager hand on the yes button is clamped in a vice grip.

Sqh is looking at Sqq. Sqq furrows his brows in confusion.

Every transmigrator can see the system. As such, every version of Sqq can see the system.

However.

To the outside world, there is no system. There cannot be a system. To play their role, a transmigrator pretends to not have a system. They do not see a system, they do not hear it, there is nothing there. They play as a native.

This shen qingqiu cannot see the system.

He too is a role.

Lbh presses decline.

They search the house. Fake Sqq, User 002, lets them with mild befuddlement.

In the bedroom, over the bed, they find the rip.

There is a glowing city of glass, a thousand people of every shape and size on the streets. Thousand more race past in cars and buses and trains. By the nature of the dreams, their appearance does not stand out, and they've learned quick how to adapt from the crowd.

They have no clue how to identify him, but for the hundreds of variations they've met. They know his tics, his stance, the way he words his sentences. The way he frowns when confused. By now, they would know him blind and deaf - and they're going to need to.

They split up. They meet back up when the sun starts to go down. Cultivators can work without rest, and they're all highly levelled. They keep searching, unwilling to give up, but they've been doing it for a while, not wanting to pause at the last stretch. They're tired, stressed and jittery from the flashing neon lights and constant roaring sounds and unmoving smog.

A man walks past at 2 in the morning with a luo binghe phone case. A luo binghe key chain. A luo binghe lock screen identifiable from ten paces.

Airplane feels it would be justifiable to punch him.

But he recognises them on sight. Probably. He seems (entirely bro platonically) entranced by his xianxia husband, so it's hard to say.

Congratulations, congratulations congratulations! The system says. Good things should be said three times!

The man startles.

Ten thousand points, lqg says, grabbing him by the wrist. Let's go.

The system doesn't break them out this time. Instead, they treck back to his apartment, where his bedroom computer is the only light.

FIN, it says, and underneath a blinking cursor in an empty comment box.

In the computer, shen yuan says, with the certainty of a dreaming mind.

In the computer?

In the computer, he confirms, shoving sqh forward. The computer is the rip. Aight, sqh says, and reverse girl-from-the-ring's himself back to reality.

He lay on a bed. Looking up: a white, gauzy canopy hung overhead, with finely crafted perfume pouches hanging from the four corners. Looking down: he wore a green robe of an ancient style. Next to the pillow lay a paper fan. Looking to his left: three handsome young men, also in that ancient style.

The one closest to him burst into tears and kissed him full on the lips.