#Close ‘credibility gaps’

[marzipanandminutiae]

ok but what are YOUR favorite and probably real victorian funfacts?

There genuinely were some doctors who thought riding in trains would cause uterine prolapse [uterus falling out], when trains were new. The concern was that the vibrations from travelling so fast would break the fibers connecting the uterus to the abdominal wall. Unsurprisingly, this did not stop women from riding in trains. Because fuck that noise- trains!!!

One time in the 1840s a bunch of doctors shellacked live horses and rabbits and concluded, when the animals died (probably from heat exhaustion after being unable to sweat), that they had suffocated and that mammals breathed partially through our skin.

Some beauty manuals of the era may have created accidental sunscreen. Occasionally you see advice to wear cold cream on your face when going out, to prevent sunburn. This probably mostly didn't work- but some cold cream recipes contained zinc oxide for a "white foundation" effect, due to beauty standards favoring very light skin, which may have created a low-level SPF. Other manuals also advocate sealing the cold cream in with powder...which even more frequently involved zinc oxide.

A dentist may have gotten away with a malpractice death by blaming tightlacing. A 23-year-old maid named Annie Budden, of Preston, England, went to have a tooth pulled in January of 1895 and suffocated after the procedure, during which she had been dosed with nitrous oxide. The dentist said she was tightlaced and therefore the coroner ruled that he was not at fault- however said dentist claimed that her natural waist was 23" and her corset measured 18". Presumably that's the closed measurement, and corsets were commonly worn with at least a 2" lacing gap at the time (one corset ad I've seen mentions that women liked to give the theoretical closed measurement of their corset as their waist measurement, to make it sound smaller, while actually wearing it with the customary gap). Ergo, she was only laced down about 2-3 inches, a difference unlikely to cause asphyxiation. The fact that she worked as a maid similarly calls the assessment into question- how could she have successfully done physical labor while laced down in a way that diminished her lung capacity so much? Her employer vouched for her good character and excessive tightlacing was seen as vanity- and would have been noticed by making Miss Budden look out-of-proportion physically. That doesn't add up either, to me. The dentist went on to become mayor of the town where this all happened.

That thing above started as a fun fact about the only credible death due to tightlacing and then I looked into it more and now I'm just mad.

Justice For Annie Budden

Sorry this has gotten off-track but I'm still mad about the whole Annie Budden thing

[genderqueerdykes]

here's a tip for folks who want to come out to their parents, friends, or another authority figure but are afraid they'll get talked out of it:

when approaching them about it, your phrasing should be "[recipient], I'm going to start estrogen," instead of "[recipient], i think i want to start estrogen." Replace estrogen with whatever your personal need is, testosterone, wearing different clothing, going by different pronouns, different names, different identities, whatever else you need to change.

phrasing things like "Mom, I'm actually a guy, I need to be referred to as [name, pronouns, etc.]" instead of "I think I'm a guy, I think I want to use [pronouns, name, etc.]" makes you sound far more confident and assertive. there's less ground for the other person to attempt to brick wall you and immediately start questioning you and talking down to you, questioning if you really know what you're talking about.

the unease in the introduction of the concept is what gives them the platform to start biting from. if you start from the get-go with confidence, it makes the other person less willing to immediately challenge you. this works for other queer identities outside of transness, obviously. being assertive about being asexual, aromantic, polyamorous, non binary, and other identities that are harder for people to accept can actually help boost the credibility of it in some people's minds, because you KNOW this is what you are, not what you Think you are.

the distinction is small but powerful. don't say "my preferred pronouns/name", say "these are my pronouns/name." try to close the gap as much as possible so they don't have wiggle room to play with doubt.

i didn't tell my mom or sister until i had gotten my appointment to start T. i was already in the process of doing it when i fully came out to them. i told them "mom, [sister], I'm a trans guy, I'm starting testosterone, I use this name now, and these pronouns." and their responses were something to the tune of

"we kinda figured that things would play out that way."

i'm not saying this will make everyone instantly accept you. it can make some people defensive. my sister still misgenders me and deadnames me to this day. not everyone will accept it easier but most people will. it takes them aback for a second. it forces them to think about how they're powerless to stop you for a bit, because it's already in motion.

it's a little tip, but it goes a long way. good luck coming out, i wish you safety and receptive ears.

[rieamena]

wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader

contains: fem!reader, established relationship (5 and a half-ish years), going public, petnames, reader and ami are close friends & spend time with her and chiho (ami's daughter), singing, kenji being whipped for you and vice versa, championship baseball game, children mention!!!, emi mention!!! (she's at kaiju island!!), proposal, engagement, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint hard, lowercase intended!!! !!!: the song in the second part is stuck on you by grentperez wc: 3.4k

people always wondered how you managed to get the most in-depth and provocative interviews with ken sato. without fail, each and every one of your published articles presented the baseball star in a new light. "mr. sato, i'm sure your fans are wondering just how you were able to overcome your slump. some are even saying that you had special help from someone significant to you. so tell us, is there someone significant to you right now?" your eyes captured ken's as you spoke into your recording device. both of you sat cross legged on your shared bed, free hands intertwined, sharing a dopey smile. you moved the device closer to him, squeezing his hand when he just stared at you lovingly instead of answering the question. "i'd say that significant isn't the right word to describe her. actually, there aren't any words to describe just how much she means to me. she's my everything. my sun, moon, sky, and stars." ken pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, his words soothing your heart. "and i'm sure she feels the exact same way about you." drawing circles into his hand, you looked at the gold ring attached to a matching chain around kenji's neck. "eyeing my necklace, are you?" you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "well, what does it symbolize?" kenji fiddled with the ring, twirling it between his fingers. "it's a promise ring. if i'm being fully honest, i cried when she gave it to me. i never thought i could be so close and intimate with someone. i didn't fit in back in LA and i'm still struggling to fit in here, but none of that mattered to her. for once, someone saw me for me. no matter what happens, i'll always stand by her side and i'll always love her." before you knew it, ken's lips were hovering over yours, his hand delicate on your face, as you subconsciously leaned into his touch. "i'll always love you too." it was a kiss full of passion and love. it managed to convey kenji's innermost thoughts and feelings to which you shared yours as well. pulling away from your boyfriend's lips and settling into the crook of his neck, small, blinking digital numbers stole your attention. a quiet giggle escaped your lips as you stopped the recording, "guess i'll be keeping this for myself." ken pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering softly, "or you could show the world how much ken sato loves his pretty girl."

you sighed, "we've talked about this, love. i don't want to go public because—""you're scared about the public's opinion." kenji cut you off, recalling the numerous times he's had this conversation with you. "ken, its not just that! i could lose my credibility as a baseball journalist!" you professed, separating from the warmth of his body, "people would think that i got interviews from pure favoritism. and some would think that i… offered you favors. …going public might ruin my career and i don't know how i'd be able to…," your words died down as your head returned to kenji's chest, your lips taking in a shaky breath, "i love journalism and i love baseball and doing something that bridges the gap between those two is one of the best things in my life right now." laying your hand flat against his chest, rubbing softly, you continued, "please ken, believe me when i say that i really do want to take your last name, i want to walk down the aisle to you, i want to do it all and i want to do it with just you, but right now," you looked up at kenji, whose eyes expressed deep apologies, "we're both doing so well. i don't want a single thing to knock us off our highs." a couple moments of silence passed before ken responded. "i understand… sorry for upsetting you." you shook your head, "don't apologize. you wanted to know the whole truth. nothing wrong about that…" rubbing the side of your arm, kenji repositioned both of your bodies to be laying down. "let's take a little rest," he whispered, bringing your body closer to his. you hummed in response, snuggling even closer to your lover, wanting to feel his warmth mix with yours. "mmm, i'd like that…" your voice drifted away, body entering a state of slumber in kenji's arms.

"honey?" ken's voice called, "i brought the stuff you wanted!" "i'm in the kitchen!", calling back, hands occupied with coating and frying some pork loin. your nimble hands dropped the meat into the pan of hot oil, watching it sizzle and crisp. "hi baby." ken dropped the bags of groceries on the kitchen island, wanting to wrap his hands around your waist instead. "tonkatsu?" kenji perched his chin atop your head, peering down at the frying pork. "yeah, we haven't had it in a while, and i know how much you love it." ken smiled, one that you could feel. "you know me so well." you smiled back, flipping the pork cutlets to ensure they cooked evenly. "how was your day?" "a bit busy, but it's better now," ken said, his hands moving to gently massage your shoulders. "can i help with anything?" "actually, could you start on the salad? the veggies are all washed and ready to go." kenji moved to the counter, grabbing a knife and chopping board. the two of you worked in comfortable silence, the sound of sizzling oil and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filling the kitchen. "feels like we're missing something…", you put in the last pork chop, "mina, play some music please." a soft drum beat escaped from the mini speaker kept in the kitchen for times like this. almost instantaneously, kenji looked at you, tossing a wooden spoon from the utensil vase, picking up one for himself as well. "you could wipe my mind, i'd still be—", he sang into the spoon before pointing at you. like clockwork, you finished, "stuck on you." "i climbed the highs, nothin' i—", you pointed back at him, the man in question already belting the rest of the lyric, "wouldn't do~" your bodies got closer, "i'll be holdin' up to every word, every promise that you ever heard." kenji takes your hand in his and spins you around, hugging you close. "i'm makin' up for all the days that passed us by." it was a part of the song but he whispered it instead, giving your lips a quick peck after. bringing your hands up to his face, your thumbs continuously caressed ken's cheeks, a soft smile on your features. a small whine escaped ken when you suddenly stopped your ministrations, your eyes blowing wide. his followed suit, realizing what the problem was. both of you looked at the pan full of hot oil, a deep brown pork chop forgotten at the expense of the impromptu concert. "oh shit, it's burning!"

you walked through the front doors, slipping off your shoes and setting down your bags. entering the elevator, you shot a quick text to ami, letting her know that you got home safely. walking through the curve, you approached kenji, his body sprawled out on the ridiculously large couch staring at his phone intently. sitting up as soon as he felt your presence, ken quickly threw his phone out of reach for the both of you, waving you over. "eventful day?" you nodded, glancing at his phone before looking back at him. "have something to tell me?", you questioned, causing your boyfriend to smile, patting his lap. shuffling over, you laid your head on kenji's thighs, reveling in the plush firmness of them, "nothing my pretty little journalist needs to worry her head about." his hands poked and pinched your cheeks teasingly before being swatted away by yours. "what did you do today with ami and chiho?" ken's voice was light, unsure if concealing his plans caused you to be annoyed. "we went to the mall to get chiho some new clothes—," you took one of his hands in yours, playing with his fingers as you recalled your day, "—i got you something too. it's on our dresser." kenji's hand playing with your hair, occasionally massaging your head relaxed you as you continued speaking, "then we went to a cafe and had some desserts. i had a strawberry cream cake—that's in the fridge—ami had tiramisu and chiho had the cutest mini ice cream. wait." you pulled out your phone, muttering that you had to remember to send these pictures to ami. finding a photo you took of the table adorned with desserts, you handed your phone to your boyfriend, telling him to swipe to see the rest whenever. "after that, ami had to pick something up from a nearby shop so chiho and i just chilled until she came back." ken swiped to numerous pictures you took with chiho, smiling softly, imagining that you were taking photos with your child instead of ami's. peeking over at your phone, you squealed, "isn't she sooo cute? ken, you don't understand!!! she's like emi! …but smaller. and she's so full of energy!" "baby fever?" "...maybe." putting your phone down, ken relaxed his arms on the top brim of the couch, body on full display. "i could give you a chiho of our own." he looked down at you, a smirk on his face, causing you to choke on air, "you—! you!" "[name] sato does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" "kenji!" "i meant it, you know."

"[name]? i've been calling you for—" kenji opened the door to your study, stopping in his tracks. you were passed out on your laptop, blue light glasses falling off and your favorite pen — the one he gave to you as a 'just because' gift — threatening to slip from your fingers. letting out a quiet sigh, ken walked over to you, taking shallow breaths as he slowly packed up your things and set them at the side of your desk. when you stirred in your seat, he froze, not wanting to wake you up from your nap. gently pulling the laptop from your grasp, kenji looked at the screen. an article titled 'inside the mind of ken sato: an exclusive interview' was scheduled to post at eight the next morning. shutting it closed, ken moved over to your limp body. bending his knees, he laid your back against one of his forearms, his other hooked under your knees. walking over to the loveseat you kept, ken's eyes never left your sleeping figure. he laid you down softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek before draping a nearby blanket over you. getting his laptop and putting on those blue light glasses of yours, kenji settled himself on the floor, occasionally looking back at you as he scrolled through pinterest, saving various images to his 'us' and 'wedding plans' boards. when he felt a hand on his head, rubbing softly, ken switched to a new tab. turning around, he whispered, "you're awake." he didn't expect your eyes to still be closed, realizing that you've been playing with his hair habitually rather than purposefully. "thank you ken…" your voice had the post-nap drowsiness but managed to convey your gratitude. "don't sweat it, princess."

opening your eyes slowly, kenji's face was the first thing you saw, causing you to sigh in delight. "god, you're stunning." ken's lips curved into a small grin, his head tilting. "thank you...?" "no no, i meant it like—" you sobered up after being drunk off sleep, collecting your thoughts, "when you get to re-experience something life changing as if it was the first time. thats what it felt like, like i was seeing you for the first time all over again." ken turned away from you, covering his face with his hands, feeling it heat up. "hey, don't do that! i was still admiring you," a groan escaped kenji's lips as you pried his hands away, "damn, can't a girl call her boyfriend pretty nowadays?" you slid off the loveseat, placing yourself right next to ken. "i like to think i look better from the front angle." he smirked, moving the laptop from his lap to the sofa. "you look good at all angles," you repositioned yourself, your core pressing into kenji's as you straddled his hips. by routine, his hands gripped your waist, squeezing and massaging slightly.  "but i'd be lying if i said front angle kenji wasn't one of my favorites." kenji kept a hand stationed at your waist, the other moving down to grope your ass. low and heavy moans broke from him as you rocked your hips back and forth, giving you both the friction you've been waiting for. "you gotta get on top of me more often, baby. 'can't believe i was missing out on this." his eyes scanned over your figure, drinking it in. slowing your motions, your hands found home on kenji's shoulders. "keep acting like that and i'm gonna have to start going dress shopping." ken laughed at your comment, the implication not fully registering yet. "wait, what?"

the roar of the crowd filled the air as the yomiuri giants claimed the championship title. the atmosphere was electric, a whirlwind of cheers and applause. kenji, bathed in the triumphant glow of victory, made his way through the sea of elated teammates and ecstatic fans. his eyes locked onto yours, and in an instant, he was in front of your premium best view stadium seat. without a word, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, the world around you fading into oblivion. the force of your embrace caused you to topple over the railing, crashing into Kenji with a fervent hug. "ken! ken! oh my god, you did it! you did it! you were so cool!! you hit the ball like wapow—" you rambled, your excitement bubbling over as you mimicked his winning hit. "huh? where did he—?" your eyes darted left and right in the search for him, only to find him behind you, down on one knee. the prettiest ring you had ever seen rested in a small black velvet box, glinting under the stadium lights. kenji looked up at you, his usual confidence giving way to a nervous chuckle. "you found me…" he muttered, his voice tinged with vulnerability only you got to experience. kenji took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't know how i lived before i met you," he confessed, the words heavy with emotion. the stadium seemed to hold its breath, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the moment unfolded. your heart pounded in your chest as kenji's words hung in the air. the world seemed to stand still, every sound and sight melting away except for him, kneeling before you. "[name]," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "from the moment i met you, my life changed in ways i never thought possible. you've been my rock, my partner, and my biggest supporter. every day with you has been a gift, and i can't imagine facing any challenge, celebrating any victory, or living any day without you by my side." he paused, taking a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you have this… incredible… ability to make everything brighter," he looks away, choking on his words, tears welling and slipping from the corners of his eyes. "to turn ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. your laughter is my favorite sound, and your smile, my favorite sight. you've shown me what true love is, and for that, i am forever grateful." kenji's voice grew softer, more intimate, as he continued. "in the highs and lows, you've been there. you believed in me, even when i didn't believe in myself. you've given me courage, strength, and a love that I know will last far beyond a lifetime."

tears were already streaming down your face, each word leaving ken's lips caused your waterline to fill up and spill over. your body shook, as you took in the view of your boyfriend, wiping away his tears with your hand. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me. i want to be the reason you smile every day. what i'm trying to say is…, [name], can i have the honor of being your husband?" even if you had spoken any quieter, kenji still would've heard you, at that moment, the only thing he focused on was you. "yes, kenji. let's get married." he pushed back a sob, rising to his feet and taking your left hand in his, slipping the ring on your finger. "wait…", you spoke, voice hoarse from all the crying. hands trailing down ken's neck, you felt the dainty chain he always kept on him, pulling it out from underneath his uniform. the promise ring laid on his chest as you unlooped it from the chain and pushed it onto his ring finger, as he did with your ring. flashing your signature smile, albeit more tired, you exclaimed, "there…! now we match!" the sob kenji previously choked back resurfaced as he picked you up and spun you around, your laughter mixing with his. as he set you down gently, your foreheads rested against each other, the world around you forgotten. in that perfect, intimate moment, everything felt just right. "what a way to tell everyone, ken. you never cease to amaze me…" "i'll have you on your toes. no way the marriage is getting boring with me around." "please, it wouldn't be boring either way."

extras —

you dragged yourself into the living room, dropping your bag and collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh. "i'm so tired… that article took everything out of me. and he was being so unnecessarily difficult!" ken looked up from his book, concern etched on his face. "you should—oh, i don't know—quit your job." "ken," you replied, giving him a pointed look. "hey, i'm just saying. i have more than enough to support us both and then some. no need for you to overwork yourself like this." he set the book aside and moved closer, taking your hand in his. "how about this? once the season is over, we take a couple weeks off for vacation. we'll travel anywhere you wanna go!" you smiled, the idea of a vacation sounding like a dream. "and if japan needs saving?" ken fell silent, embarrassed that being ultraman completely slipped his mind. "oh right. can't forget about that." you both laughed, the tension from your long day starting to ease. ken's thumb rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand. "but seriously," he continued, his tone softening. "i hate seeing you so stressed. you're amazing at what you do, but you deserve a break too. we'll figure it out together, okay?" you nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "okay. a vacation sounds perfect. and maybe i will think about taking it easy for a while." ken leaned in and kissed your forehead. "that's my girl. now, let's plan this vacation of ours. we’ve got the whole world to explore."

"babe, can you look through my phone for something? i took a picture of something i wore the other day," you asked, tossing your phone to kenji. "alright." catching it with ease, he started scrolling through your photo app. "this the one?" he asked, showing you the picture. you nodded, finding the same clothing pieces in your closet. kenji continued to scroll through your photo app, and suddenly he stumbled upon an album named 'mine <3'. "oh, you love love me," he teased, turning the phone towards you and revealing the numerous pictures you had of him. you rolled your eyes, trying to play off the blush creeping up your cheeks. "don't flatter yourself," you scoffed, a playful smile tugging at your lips. kenji chuckled, encapsulating you in a side hug. "too late. i'm already flattered." he looked at you with those warm eyes that always made your heart skip a beat. you shook your head, laughing softly. "you're impossible." "and you love it." he said, his voice low and affectionate. you couldn't deny it, the brightest smile etched on your face as you pushed kenji away. "yeah, whatever."

whew... its been a wild four days but i'm actually so proud of myself. personally, i love how this came out and i really can't believe that i typed all of this like me??? what?!?! i hope you all enjoyed it as much as i did <33 i'll be doing requests + asks for this so if you wanna see something or know something, send me an ask! love yall <33 ps: formatting this post was literal hell. solely bc tumblr decided to stop allowing me to save in rich text.

taglist <3

@lovingyeet @yellowheartz @darlinggreenwitch @meikoo @moonjellyfishie

[bellaveux]

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

[cinnamonest]

Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes his stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

[alaynestcnes]

“evidence upon evidence upon evidence” and it’s just chapter order and stuff like “oh jonnel is definitely the same as jon” (which is basically saying alysanne is the same as alys) or val being blonde means she could be redheaded in certain lights. it’s still all a REACH so no evidence for romance

Looks like you have some gaps in your jonsa knowledge so I’ll help you out a little 😊

A good place to start would be the jonsa compendium with at least 18 points of independent in-text evidence (not including the broader fun stuff like lotr lit parallels). We can also talk about the multiple allusions to Sansa being betrothed to a Targ (not including the ashford tourney theory already included in the compendium); here, here. Some other little tidbots I enjoy (a la 'blood of winterfell', jon/joff parallels, little in-text parallels, and too many others to mention) are in my parallels tag.

There are the BNFs/theorists who have speculated on jonsa; Alt Shift X and Adam Feldman have both found Jonsa to be significant enough to mention. They’ve been invited to have dinner with GRRM, and he has said Adam Feldman ‘really gets’ asoiaf. So, I kinda hold these theorists as just a bit more credible than whatever the twitter/reddit stans have to say.

And I know you brushed off the chapter analysis but let’s remember that GRRM has said that he is very particular about the sequence of scenes and chapters. So, it’s not absurd to say that the construction of the chapters is something that we should be paying attention to. Ignoring that is fine but don’t pretend like it’s Jonsas reaching, when it’s just your own blind bullheadedness. That being said, here’s an almost never-ending post analysing the in-text Jonsa parallels and references. And a literal excel sheet providing And then here there's how whenever Jon or Sansa's chapters have a focus on love and marriage, then the other will almost always closely follow.

That's my little english lit seminar done, but I hope you're not too tired bc we've still got our AP hisory and political science class to go! GRRM has stated before that class is important (especially in relation to marriage) and he hates medieval-set stories where the highborn lady happily runs off with the stableboy. So, it's safe to say that Sansa will not be marrying any old glup shitto the fandom wants to pair her with. Her range of suitors is very, very limited. "Jonnel is definetly the same as Jon"...well, if the shoe fits? Like it just lines up too well, it's just a bit cheeky of GRRM to sow issues of northern succession in ASOIAF, all while providing a precedent for an inter-Stark union as a solution to a very similar issue. You could also make the case that Jonnel/Sansa is more of a foil for Jon/Sansa than a direct parallel (as instead of Jon marrying Sansa to supercede her claim, Sansa will choose to marry Jon in order to secure his position after Targ reveal). And really, is this anymore delulu than something like the Jon/Tyrion/Dany three heads of the dragon theories you see around?

Anywaysss this is just a fast and loose run down and better people than me have developed more comprehensive archives of the ever-extending jonsa meta universe, so please supplement your learning with some independent study: here, here, here.

So yeah…the evidence is a little bit deeper than Jon/Jonnel or Val/Sansa. I’m not trying to preach but calling Jonsa out on a lack of evidence or that we’re reaching for anything is giving very much illiterate on your side. If you wanna come into my ask and be a hater again pleassseeee at least do your research first. Next time there will be a quiz before I take anything you say seriously.

[cherrychilli]

MDNI, NSFW, AFAB reader, divorced Dilf! Steve, Babysitter reader, oral sex(M), cum play, age gap (Steve is in his early 40's, reader is in her early 20's)

A/N: This takes place before the events of my first Dilf! Steve drabble. I'm also working on another drabble about the first time they did the deed so look out for that!)

You scrutinize your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you fix your hair and dab on a fresh coating of scented lip balm over your lips. You'd much prefer your signature shade of lipstick and an outfit different to the t-shirt and skirt combo that you're currently dressed in but this is the best you can afford to do without raising any suspicion. You needed to be careful. You didn't want to be made the subject of the latest small town scandal and you knew people would start to ask questions if they ever saw you getting all dolled up to babysit at Steve Harrington's house.

You saunter into his study once you're ready, closing the door gently behind you and turning the key for good measure. You find him at his desk where he's been for the past few hours, looking both pensive and deflated as he poured over paperwork. You'd been sneaking glances at him all day, growing resentful of the work that held his attention. That wasn't all. Feelings of sympathy tugged at you too. It was hard to ignore when seeing the stack of thick files piled next to him and the empty coffee mug with World's Best Dad blown up in big black lettering now cold and pushed aside after several refills. He looks up from the handful of important looking papers fanned across his desk when you enter, assessing you over the rim of his reading glasses. He notices how your skirt appears shorter now than it did earlier thanks to some intentional adjusting when you readied yourself in the guest bathroom.

He knows now. Steve looked forward to your "surprise visits" but he never failed to get the formalities out of the way first.

"The kids?", he asks, expression neutral.

"Asleep. Completely wiped out after playing with the Donovan boys", you inform him, leaning over his desk to let your cleavage show. He allows his gaze to fall to your chest now that the two of you are alone, something he tried very hard (and sometimes failed) to keep from doing when others were around, Not that anyone had noticed, thankfully.

"And Martha?"

The kids were one thing but Steve's housekeeper was the one who really kept you on your toes, unbeknownst even to her. There was always the chance she might notice a lingering look or subtle touch and realize something bigger was going on right under her own nose. She'd also have more credibility if she were to tell people that there was something going on between Mr. Harrington and the pretty babysitter nearly half his age. The kids on the other hand who although were the sweetest, were much less likely to be believed. They were still in that phase where they spouted the occasional harmless yet wildly imaginative lie in the hopes of impressing friends and grownups.

"Out shopping for tonight's dinner", you assured him with a coy smile.

You walk around the corner of his desk, hips swaying as he turns his chair to face you. Martha may be gone for now but she had proved she was worth the money she was paid. She was efficient, reliable and punctual above all else, meaning you wouldn't have as much time as you would have liked to be alone together. Foregoing any kind of buildup, you drop to your knees, hands reaching to toy with Steve's belt. "Wanna suck your cock, Mr. Harrington", you announced. It was blunt, you knew and gathering from his widened eyes you were certain he thought so too.

"Please, can I?", you begged, voice sticky like honey and dripping with urgency.

You can see the traces of fatigue starting to fade from his features as he cups your cheek with a large palm, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, all soft and plush from the balm. You're already undoing his belt, popping open the button on his pants and pulling at the zip. "You've been so tense lately" you cooed. "Working so hard. All those late nights", you reminded. "I Just want to help you unwind."

You reach inside to rub him over his boxers, parting your lips at the same time to lick at his thumb. "Shit", he hisses. He'd only fucked your mouth once before - and just barely because that tryst was cut short when Martha had come back home after forgetting her purse one night. You hid behind the kitchen island when you heard the front door open, crouched down by Steve's legs with your lips all puffy and slick with spit and precum. You cowered while he pretended to have come in for a glass of water as he so explained, or more so stammered, to Martha who hadn't asked because why would she? it was his house. What was so unusual about wanting a drink of water in your own house? She might have suspected something if she didn't already think you had been sent home for the day, not knowing that you were staying over after hours when she was off the clock and the kids had been put to bed. As she politely collected her purse and left for the second time the both of you agreed, no more fooling around unless it's behind locked doors.

His length was already growing stiff as he watched you on your knees, begging to have his cock in your mouth like some naughty fantasy come to life. Maybe you were right, he thought. Maybe he had been working too hard lately. Maybe he had been sifting through files and contracts for a few hours too long and the exhaustion had numbed him momentarily because why the hell hadn't he started unzipping his pants himself the moment you got on your knees for him?

"Fuck- alright", he relented, suddenly feeling more enlivened than he had been the entire day as he helped you to pull his boxers down. Your expression turns glassy as you stare at his cock when it bobs free, saliva pooling in your mouth. He was bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before and you found that you were still getting used to it. You wrap your fingers around his impressive girth as best you can and lap at the blurt of precum weeping from his tip, catching it on your tongue and sucking it into your mouth in a filthy display. "Jesus Christ" he groans, balls feeling tight at the sight of you like this. A distant cry from the reputable young woman people thought you to be. "Tell me how you like it", you request, breath fanning over his cock as you pant softly. "I wanna make you feel good, Mr. Harrington". He curses again under his breath because how can you look so sweet and sincere when you're begging for something as indecent as having your mouth full of him.

"Okay I-uh, I like it a little messy", he admits. "Can you spit on it? 'want you to get it really wet for me, sweetheart".

You do as he says, first spitting into your palm to wrap around him again and then leaning closer to dribble some spit onto his tip and rest of his shaft to help coat him.

"Little more- Yeah, just like that...start moving your hand, baby- squeeze it a little, okay?"

You pump him just as he instructed, only speeding up when he tells you to. It's still on the slower side - a steady, rhythmic schlick that fills your ears and makes your belly burn. You don't put your mouth on him. Not yet because he hasn't given you permission. You're trying to be obedient, not knowing that he's getting off on the desperate look on your face as your eyes flick back and forth from his erection and his face. You work yourself up even more at the taste the fruity balm when you bite your lip, wishing once again that you'd been able to dress up for him just so he could ruin your pretty lipstick till his cock bears messy traces of your favorite shade. You're growing more needy as you listen to all the noises spilling out of him, deep throaty groans and half restrained moans that have you rubbing your thighs together in search of some kind of friction. You don't want to divert from the way he's guiding you but you can't hold off wanting to taste him any longer. "Mr. Harrington, please, can I suck it? I want to feel it in my mouth again", you whimper meekly.

You've got his cock in your hand and you're the one begging? He chuckles softly at that. "Go ahead, get your pretty lips on me", he finally grants.

You're on him quick, popping his fat head in your mouth and wrapping your lips around it. You suck gently at first, hand still stroking his base and when you begin to bob your head you moan around him like you've been starved for this. "That's it, baby- shit keep going", he encourages you. You grow bolder when his hand weaves into your hair and you take him in further and further until you feel him bump the back of your throat. Tears gather in your eyes then as you choke, throat clamping around him when you gag, squeezing his cock. "Fuck", he tightens his grip on your hair. "Do that again", he watches you with half lidded eyes, tears spilling down your face as you struggle to take it.

You can feel the spit and precum seeping out of the corners of your mouth and trail down your chin. It's messy, just as he asked for and he praises you again and again. "You're doing so well, baby- making me feel so good", hips bucking up lightly into your mouth. Every time you pull off for air, spit and precum web from his throbbing length to your panting lips. You lick up the underside of his cock hungrily after you catch your breath, following the gentle curve of it, feeling the veins pulse and throb when your tongue glides over the sensitive skin. When you reach his ruddy tip again, you swirl your tongue around it, eyes never leaving his.

"Want your cum", you puff out desperately, voice hoarse from having having him fuck your throat. "Please?"

You see his expression shift and you're just about to ask him if he's close when he cuts you off with a curt command. "Get up".

You worry you've done something wrong until he's flipping you around and pressing you against his desk. He hastily pushes the fanned out papers to the side, letting them flutter and strew on the floor.

"Hands on the desk", he growls. You plant them there without question, whimpering when you feel him pull at your skirt. He holds the material up with one hand, yanking your soaked panties down your thighs with the other.

"M-Mr. Harrington?" you stutter, never finishing the question but he knows what you mean to ask. Are you going to fuck me?. You want him to. Desperately. But you know there's no time. Martha would be home any minute now and you couldn't risk having her wonder where you were. There'd be no way to hide what you'd been doing if she caught you sneaking out of Steve's study, looking like this.

"Not this time, sweetheart", he answers, kicking your legs apart as he strokes his cock between your thighs. "'Gonna give you what you asked for."

You gasp when you feel it, ropes of his cum catching on your inner thighs and the gusset of your panties. You quiver in place when he pulls your panties up, pressing his hot wet release right up against you. He fixes himself behind you as you process the mess between you legs, circling your hips experimentally so you can feel it spread between your folds.

"You've got an hour left, right?", he breaths low against your ear. You nod your head when your voice fails you, feeling spent. "You're going to wear these home today", he commands, his fingers snaking under your skirt to circle your clit over your soiled panties. "Want you to think of me while you drip", pressing a kiss against your tear stained cheek. "And tomorrow you're going to come in early so I can fuck you proper, understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Harrington", you manage to answer this time, tone taking on a pitiful whine.

"Good. Now go get cleaned up".

[thebrookesnook]

Here's the discussion for Umemiya's deity representation as seen in the latest chapter. If you haven't seen my thoughts on Takiishi's yet then I've provided a link to that post as well.

(I hope you appreciate the better quality & organization of the post from my well-rested brain cells)

Part 1: Takiishi Chika and the Karura

Spoilers for Chapter 150!

In my last post, I discussed my theory that the bird-like deity depicted for Takiishi was a karura. With Umemiya, I believe the deity to be Fudō Myō-ō (不動明王, ふどうみょうおう) who is also known as the Immovable Wisdom King (Skt. Ācalanātha).

[Fudō Mask was sourced from the Japanese Buddhist Statuary: A to Z Phot Dictionary; (Wooden) Seated Fudō Myō-ō Statue by Kaikei created in 1203 sourced from Isumu (360° view available)]

Fudō Myō-ō is THE central deity among all of the Myō-ō (warlike or wrathful gods) groupings, but is most prominently featured among the Godai Myō-ō (五大明王, Five Great Kings) who are manifestations of the Five Transcendental Buddha. He was given the title as the Immovable One due to his unwaivering commitment to the protection of Buddhist teachings.

Orginating as a pagan deity from India, Fudō's conversion to Buddhism began with humble beginnings. He was assigned as a servant and messenger of Buddha himself and later achieving higher positions and later becoming a manifestation of the power and virtues of Dainichi Buddha, one of the 5 Transcendental Buddha I mentioned previously. (Source: MetMuseum)

In regards to their appearances, Fudō shares a remarkable resemblance to the deity depicted in Chapter 150. From his adornments, eyebrows, hair style, the prominent scowl etched into their faces and the long side braid (?) to the left of the face.

Aside from looks, let's talk about the prominent parallels between Umemiya and Fudō Myō-ō:

Origins. Both Ume and Fudō had to start over with their life, with Ume losing his family due to a car accident and Fudō being stripped of his former godhood after converting to Buddhism. Despite these, they were able to work their way up to be strong enough to protect what they valued the most.

Their roles. According to Schumacher in his page about Fudō,

"Fudō converts anger into salvation..."

- Schumacher, M., "Fudō Myō-ō"

"converts anger into salvation", that seems familiar- Oh wait.

Fudō and Ume are guides to enlightenment AND protectors. They themselves are symbols of safety in the eyes of those under their care.

Connections. While the Godai Myō-ō (Five Great Kings) aren't closely related to the Shitennō (Four Heavenly Kings) as the former rank far above the latter, there are similarities to be found. One is that both groups are in charge of the five directions, and yes five. The Shitennō is commanded by Taishakuten (帝釈天) who is the Lord of the Center. Relating this back to Ume and his Four Kings, it's interesting to note that the mangaka choose a higher ranking god to represent Ume rather than use Taishakuten. Perhaps to differentiate the power gap between Umemiya and his Four Kings?

Conclusion: I'm confident that Fudō Myō-ō is definitely the god representing Umemiya with the evidence I have gathered as well as several others have come to similar conclusions to the fact. It was really fun deep diving into this research for both Takiishi and Umemiya and with a clear headed than the previous post, perhaps I'd like to make another one but of Tomiyama and Togame (The Hare & The Tortoise) or Sakura and Sugshita (The Tiger & The Dragon). No promises though.

(P.S. I am not Japanese but I have been deeply interested in the culture and history. I do my best to use credible sources (both ENG and JPN) and give credit accordingly. However, I'm prone to slip ups so if there is anything that requires correction, notify me throught the post via reply/reblog.)

(P.S.S. I have a blog specifically made for wbk content for further post like this so feel free to visit me there @transient-winds )

[fictionalafvsmybeloved]

the tank from fallout 4 (in the future could you enable media in asks? i plan to sling some very obscure vehicles your way.)

Alright, Sorry this one took me so long to get to (and media should be enabled, just don't spam too many pictures)

Now, bear witness to the monstrosity that is the Fallout 4 tank!

In the vast wasteland of post-nuclear Boston you can find many remnants of the Pre-War military, and this is one of the two types of armored vehicles you'll come across.

So this is based on the aesthetics of many late WWII-early Cold War American tanks and prototypes, with no clear inspiration taken from any one vehicle (that I know of)

So, let's start with the quad-tracks why don't we?

They're bad, really bad. Not only do they lack any drive sprockets, but the road wheels are to close together and they aren't even in-line with each other. This just increases the width of the tank with out any sort of benefit. This thing also weighs sixty tons, so even with the nuclear power-pack (also a bad idea) it's probably not going anywhere fast (and forget about soft terrain).

Now I don't know much about the armor on this, other that it's riveted armor, which fell out of use during WWII. Riveted armor isn't good, repeated hits (even sustained heavy machine-gun fire) can loosen the rivets and cause them to fall out or go ricocheting through the tank.

And things aren't any better in the turret. It has a pair of 140mm guns (I'll go into detail on why double-guns and quad-track are bad ideas in another post) and rail-mounts for machine-guns on the commander and loader's hatches, but no co-ax MG. This leaves gaps in the tank's defenses and give it a cramped turret. The turret can't even rotate 360 degrees, it's blocked by all the greebles on the engine deck.

I can't see a single sight or periscope on this ugly thing, not even in the commander's cupola. It might be totally blind.

There are at least two crew members, a commander and a gunner. There might be more but I have no idea where they would sit, hopefully not in the turret, there's barely any space inside it left.

Now about those greebles... There are to many, and most of them don't do any thing or actively inhibit the tank. That big thing hanging off the left side of the engine deck is a system of heat sinks for the nuclear power pack. It does at least have plenty of miscellaneous hatches in some useful places.

A nuclear power-pack is a very bad idea. Almost any damage too it will cause it to start leaking radiation or meltdown.

FINAL SCORES

Credibility: 3/10 - Dahir Insaat Animation

Coolness: 3/10 - WarThunder Sad Eyes Tank

BONUS: I'll have to add the bonus later when Nexus mods is back up

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

jensen and bryces public perception

in terms of their individual reputations and how it plays into their perception as a couple

tagging a few who were interested :) @peonyblossom @intwds @choicesmc

Jensen has a reputation for being remarkable. A machine of a person—a beast of a person. Something to be observed but not touched.

He plows through diagnostics like he does through life, completely disconnected until it all comes crashing down. He’s taken breaks when he shouldn’t have, and he’s stayed when he shouldn’t have, but he always pushes through because he always has. Stopping was, and isn’t, an option when his only concomitant of consequence—of the end—is a dire fate. That’s what happens when he fights for himself, so he doesn’t.

And then there’s Bryce. Equally remarkable, but with a confidence and ease that makes it seem like a joke. He makes it look easy, and you want to ask him why, but the second he starts talking you remember why you shouldn't have. He’s as cocky as he is remarkable, whereas Jensen never speaks about himself: skills, life, or otherwise.

But Jensen is still this bright burning mass of passion and sharp-witted devotion, so willing and ready and waiting to make it to a rank where he has credibility in the eyes of the world. He’d fight for anyone that needs it because he can’t see those consequences when it’s not for himself, and they’re worth it anyway.

Yet, he is the one often reduced to an image of a heartless and soulless mold of a person. People that know him know what he stands for, know how hard he pushes himself to do everything right for everyone but himself, but too many steps away makes it hard to see that. There’s a plane of frosted glass in the shape of someone who doesn’t smile, doesn’t do small talk, and doesn’t make friends unless they like exactly what he likes.

But then there’s Bryce, who people treat like the sun. He’s the image of bright shining success, an ease and kindness that has always made people like him, but never love him. 

He is loathed by people too close to him. Loathed for the tsunami that is his ego, skill, and sunny demeanor that feels all too patronizing when he beats those around him with such ease. Those too close to him know nothing of significance because he keeps it so tightly locked up that they’d never be let in. He’d never give them that reward, and he pushes them away before they know they want it.

And for both of their conflicting views—what those close to them see and what those far away from them see—it doesn’t make sense for them to work. Someone so heartless shouldn’t be with someone so perfect, and someone so selflessly bold shouldn’t be with someone so egotistically selfish. One is only worried about others and the other is only worried for himself.

But isn’t there always something to learn?

Jensen was only taught to survive. Do what you can, do what you need, and anything else is a luxury he was never taught to handle. When he was given a voice that people listened to, he knew he’d be using it to help others in the same situations he had been in his entire life. He was going to do everything for everyone else no matter how hard it was and no matter how little he reflected on himself. 

It’s the only thing he knows how to do.

And Bryce has never been given a lesson on survival. Life was always a little too easy until the day it all fell apart, and he was completely unprepared. Left stranded on a fucking raft in the middle of the ocean. 

So he coped. He faked it until he made it with smiles and laughs as strong as Fort Knox, until he was right where he needed to be. Everything up to the present has been a game of never knowing if he’d make it through to the other side, and the only thing he had to rely on was himself—and they have that in common. 

With all of this, they perfectly fill the gaps of the other. On some other plane of understanding, the two of them mesh like a great clash of oceans, incredible forces in their own respects but so calm and overlapping together in a way that fades to blurred lines and a perfect harmony of edges and curves.

And people don’t get it. They only see one view or another and while, on some level, it puts them at incredible status—two of the most accomplished individuals of a generation hand in hand—but it becomes enigmatic the more you factor in their conflicting public perceptions.

But at the roots of their reputations, they are both annoyingly good. Bryce doesn’t break a sweat under the most intense pressure, and Jensen moves through the hardest cases without a flicker of emotion. Bryce is undermined by his ego and his unwillingness to let anyone within a close proximity, and Jensen is undermined by his observational silence and critical nature. 

They are both untouchable, and they make their relationship the same way. It is always going to be full of misinterpretations—just like they are. Their reputations are on a who-says-what basis, and no matter how many you collect, they are never the same. It’s convoluted; neither of them are willing to make it clear. Their public perceptions are nothing and everything and putting them together only stirs the pot. 

As much as it could mean—a power duo ready to take over the world, or two utterly fucked up people doomed to love one another—they don’t need it to. They let people think right and wrong (a skill Bryce has perfected, and one Jensen had to learn from him), and use the support from the other to keep pushing through any assumptions to reach their biggest goals (a skill Jensen has perfected, and one Bryce had to learn from him). 

[cheegu3]

Hey can I request a yandere juyeon (the boyz)

By the way I don’t really know how to write request (this is actually my first time!!) and don’t worry if you don’t want to write this request you can ignore this

Wishing you a nice day

hi, your request was perfect don’t worry. I was actually really happy to receive this even tho it took some time bc tbz is one of the groups I really like rn ! c:

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, abusive relationships, stalking, creepy behavior, murder, blood, cursing, kidnapping

wc; 1.8k

note; u didn’t write a prompt so I came up with one myself, I hope u like it 🖤🖤

Juyeon - 02:04

You could hear his footsteps behind you and the occasional pants, echoing against the walls of the alleys and tunnels you passed by. But he sounded nowhere near as tired as you did, which was a terrifying realisation.

Despite lungs and legs burning, screaming for you to stop and give up, give into the predator chasing you - you kept running.

Time felt like it had been moving incredible slow ever since you first noticed a figure following you on your way home from work. So you weren’t even sure how long had passed.

'' Y/n? ''

You almost stopped mid-step as the person called out your name. They knew you? Was it maybe someone from work who didn't have any bad intentions?

You shook your head at your own overly optimistic and naive assumptions. No person with pure intentions would chase someone down when they noticed they'd scared them.

So when rounding yet another corner in the small alleyway you'd been forced into; instead of stopping and turning around, you dove into a small gap between two food stands and crouched down, pressing a hand over your mouth.

The running footsteps came to a halt momentarily, as the owner of them must've been confused on which way you went. But not long after, they returned again - right towards the direction of your hiding spot.

You weren't sure what had caused him to happen to choose the exact way you went, perhaps it was luck for him and karma for something for you.

Laying down on the wet ground below, you crawled on the ground to get cover behind a sign standing in front. It was pretty much useless anyway, if he went down all the way and passed by the stands, just turning his head would make him look down right at you.

Feeling anxiety increasing when you heard him continue walking down it, your nails almost dug into the flesh of your cheeks.

'' Y/n? '' he shouted again.

Your blood froze in your veins. That sounded a lot closer than last time. Slowly, as if you were scared any movement at all would alert him of you, you turned your head upwards. He was right there, a meter away from your stand and he was only getting closer.

You held your breath, despite knowing it was over. Confirming your depressing thoughts, you were dragged out just a second later by your arm and a scream of terror ripped from your throat.

'' Ju...Juyeon? '' you blinked up at the attacker, struggling to make him out under the lack of light.

He moved closer, just under a light and you shuddered, shaking your head and trying to back away on the ground, the soles of your shoes digging into it.

It was Juyeon. He was a colleague who had just started working at your job. Being very shy, he rarely spoke to anyone and you hadn't talked to him except for when the introductions took place.

'' Why did you follow me? ''

He flashed a broad smile that made his eyes crinkle, quite inappropriate for the situation. Either he was terrible at reading the room and had no social skills or he had bad intentions, the latter you felt was more credible.

'' I'm in love with you. ''

'' What? ''

'' I'm in love with you, y/n. '' he sheepishly repeated, going back to looking shy again.

You were too stunned to say anything, just watching him closely to see if he'd continue.

'' I didn't really know how to talk to you so...''

'' So you followed me like a creep? ''

He nodded eagerly.

'' I want to go home now. ''

Your eyebrows furrowed and you tilted your head. '' Okay? ''

It seemed you two had completely different ideas of what that meant. You were caught off guard when your colleague suddenly pulled your leg towards him, making you get dragged on your back and then you were heaved over his shoulders.

'' What the fuck are you doing? Put me down! ''

'' I want you to live with me. ''

Juyeon started moving out of the alley, back the same way you'd come from.

You screamed, trying your best to grab ahold of the walls of the buildings. However, nails struggling to grab anything but air left you hanging limp against his back in no time.

'' Stop screaming. '' he hissed under his breath. '' I don't want to hurt you. ''

The world started moving a lot faster, just as the sounds of people's laughs echoed to where you were. You kicked and wriggled as a spark of hope was ignited inside.

Maybe if you somehow managed to fall over his shoulder, you could land in a non-injuring way and sprint with all you had with the help of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

He stopped, but when you tried to move around and turn your head, his hold around your legs became harder, almost digging into your skin.

'' What are you doing? ''

You stilled, it was a voice you didn't recognize. Did he stop because someone saw the two of you in the dark?

'' Help me! '' you cried out, taking your chance.

The voice didn't respond again. It was deadly silent until you heard what sounded like a person running, getting closer to where you were.

Without warning, Juyeon threw you right into the wall to his side, causing you to land on top of some trashcans. You groaned out in pain, head pounding wildly as you had hit it on the way down.

Rolling on the cold ground, you craned your neck to the best of your abilities to see if you could see the person that had come to help.

It was a woman. She stood in front of your colleague, immobile with mouth opening and closing continuously as if her whole system was malfunctioning.

Juyeon had his arms out, standing a few meters away from where you were.

'' What do you want? '' he said in a low tone, taking a step towards the poor woman.

You tried to slowly make your way to standing, but it was very hard. Your muscles felt stiff and several places ached, others probably had scrapes with blood dripping out of them.

'' I-I just...'' she swallowed thickly and grimaced, looking like she was regretting the whole thing. '' I came to help. ''

'' There's no one who needs help here. ''

The woman stepped to the side so she could get a clear view of you. Juyeon was quicker. He turned around and blocked her again by approaching you and crouching down.

You looked confused. Not sure what he was trying to do, you analyzed his face. But nothing was there, he didn't have any emotions whatsoever on his face.

That's why you almost gasped in horror when you saw his hand move, instinctively your eyes darted towards it and you saw something shiny - a knife.

He twisted it in his fingers to make sure you saw it. It was hidden under his sleeve, the handle touching his palm while only a small fraction of the blade was visible.

You were about to say something and he could sense it. Without uttering a single word he said a lot by merely turning his face a bit to the side, to the direction of the woman. You knew what he was insinuating.

'' Please don't hurt her. '' you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear.

'' Then say what I want you to say. ''

You looked at each other for a few seconds in silence. Your pleas went ignored, so with a heavy sigh you said to the woman, '' I'm sorry, I don't need help. ''

She didn't look convinced. Slowly she crept closer to where you where. Your eyes called out to Juyeon again, despite knowing it was already too late.

He got on his feet immediately and turning around he managed to quickly get the knife out fully before plunging it into her in one swift movement.

You felt your stomach flip as you saw his large hand come up to muffle her screams of agony, while the other continued twisting the knife deeper into her abdomen. Blood oozed out of the wound.

When her hands stopped trying to push his away and you saw the light slowly start to go out, you had to turn on your side. It was already too much to bear, seeing a dead body would send you into a full mental breakdown.

When Juyeon was done, he hurried over to you and he smiled sympathetically, giving you a few paths on the back upon realising you were hyperventilating.

'' It'll pass. '' was all he said before turning back again, presumably getting rid of the body.

You weren't sure what he did, because you didn't want to look. Your eyes were squeezed shut while you pressed your shoulder into the rough brick-wall on the left.

'' Let's go. ''

He helped you up when you didn't move from your spot. Then you let yourself be lead all the way over to a car that was parked far away, near the tunnel you initially started getting chased from.

You had many chances to run or ask for help when people passed by. But you were almost in a trance from having witnessed a murder. So your eyes were staring down at the ground the whole way.

It was pretty safe to say that even if you did those things, there was a silent threat in the air - I'll do it to you too.

However, despite the situation he kept glancing at you, a look of worry adorning his features. The hand that was placed firmly at your waist occasionally gave you soothing rubs.

'' Please get in without a fight. '' he begged under his breath after opening the door.

You got into the backseat, although you could see he was a bit disappointed by that. Before going to the driver's seat he quickly locked the car, being paranoid you'd run anyway.

When he got in and started driving, you felt more like yourself again, and even had the energy to look out of the window; wondering what the future held for you. Would you never go out again? Never go to work again? Would he kill you, or torture you?

'' I've loved you for a very long time. ''

You shook your head, an unamused laugh escaping your lips.

'' You've never talked to me before. ''

'' That doesn't matter. ''

'' That's not love, Juyeon. '' A single tear finally escaped from your tired eyes. '' You're sick. ''

[caputvulpinum]

perhaps this is in bad faith, but don't you think it's plausible that ms appleton was just a government food scientist who was sent to japan as sort of U.S. ambassador and given a generic, americanized name? we know that resources were scarce during the war and that many changes had to be made, or simply were made to cut costs, in the production of lots of things at the time. it just makes sense when you break it down that traditional shoyu is time and labour intensive to make but improves the taste of even outright bad dishes. at a time when people were forced to eat whatever food was available to them demand was likely very high to the point of unreasonably outweighing supply. either officials at kikkoman reached out to american food scientists for a solution or they offered one up themselves, given the fact that food science was undergoing a huge international renaissance led by the americans during the 30s, 40s and 50s. americans have a tendency to synthesize food. they also tend to feel strongly about imposing their culture on other countries. it seems more to me like this is a story about the american government taking extra steps to obfuscate the story of how they semi-successfully tried to be the final nail in the coffin of widespread, traditional shoyu production. less like some kind of yakuza conspiracy somehow centred on one woman. just the perspective of someone who's felt compelled to do their own research. it's my opinion that the way you're presenting your findings leaves massive gaps as well as leaps to get over them. i can't speak for the things you haven't shared publicly, obviously, but it feels a lot like you're dancing around the point. good luck to you in your research, regardless of my own feelings.

I think I agree that you're either arguing in bad faith or simply aren't really paying attention to a wider picture here. It's common knowledge that postwar economics in Japan were heavily influenced and remain to this day connected to organized crime and the Yakuza as an old tool of the imperial/noble order. We also know for a fact that the CIA worked with the yakuza during American occupation in order to manipulate political culture and economic structures.

It's also a common conspiracy in Japanese circles (or at least so it appears, and I want to be clear I am not voicing this as more than preexisting theory/belief, so I will not directly source to give complete credibility; consider this as context for why I might be interested in investigating further, just in case) that Empress Michiko and the Seifun Milling Company had close under-the-table connections with America, which would further influence the traditional shoyu brewing culture.

Like, I feel as though if you seem to be aware enough that America's treatment of Japan was one of extreme hostility and cruelty with little-to-no care about the nation or its people, solely using it as a means to enforce American/Western ideals and principles onto an unwilling populace and using violence and illegal organized crime syndicates to fulfill those goals...then why are you acting as though it's sus of me to look at a single woman in 1947 having this much power/control over Japanese-American relations when you have said yourself that shoyu is the single most important ingredient for Japanese food of all time, and only moreso during war rations/scarcity times?

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Mention of riize made me want to pick your brain on the current state of kpop. I find the longevity of the 3rd gen boy group popularity fascinating, given how things were for the generations previous. What do you think might be behind the dearth of 4th gen bg kpop musics resonating with the korean public?

I don't live in korea, so I can't comment on the lived realities of music consumption in the country. Given your experiences and music expertise, I'd love to hear your thoughts! My understanding is that 4th gen bg music was not an easy listening experience and the public was turned off by the burning sun scandal??

***

“What do you think might be behind the dearth of 4th gen bg kpop musics resonating with the korean public”

BTS.

And the specific reasons why are linked to a couple other factors.

BTS is still pretty much a wall, even for 5th gen groups. K-pop generations typically last about 7 years, both tied to contracts and the typical life cycle of previous star idols at their peaks. For example, GDragon / BigBang was very popular from 2012 to 2018, for Girls Generation their peak years were 2009 to 2015. Both groups are active till today but even during their peaks, in 2015 and 2018, BTS was out charting both groups.

BTS is ~2 years into their hiatus and halfway through completing their military service and yet, nobody is anywhere near their critical acclaim and charting performance. Like, nowhere in the vicinity.

Like I keep saying, the biggest determinant for BTS’s success is their music. We know K-pop or ‘idol music’ in general is a somewhat niche space in Korea (Korea has its regular pop singers like Gaho, Junny, or Jimmy Brown who certainly aren’t traditional k-pop), but one reason BTS has had the widest appeal to the Korean gp is the quality of their music and lyrics. This is something I’ve talked about before so I won’t go into it lol, but on that note, it brings me to one of the factors I said was linked above.

That factor is song choice. A lot of 4th gen groups have never once not snorted the EDM garbage. You know the ones, the groups who have two hammers: dubstep and trap (EDM), and who see everything as a nail. And that’s before we get into the frankly atrocious writing. Some songs are great to jam out to mindlessly in the gym or the club, but there’s no real substance to it. In my opinion. I also think songs like that have limited (obvious) appeal for the Korean public (with time and exposure therapy they’ll learn to tolerate it).

I think it’s been clear for a long time that most 4th gen boy groups have had to rely on other tools besides music to build up their fanbases. But those kinds of tools result in an increase in dedicated fan girls, not gp support which is what BTS and most girl groups enjoy. And again, a big reason for that is song choice.

Which is why 5th gen boy groups are doing more actual consumable music (thank you NewJeans), groups like Riize, ZB1, TWS, and BOYNEXTDOOR, are making waves and charting higher than Stray Kids or Ateez ever have.

The one leg-up those 4th boy groups have though, is their performance credibility and experience. And that’s what’s going to lead to the resurgence of 4th gen boy groups this year. I actually expect 2024 to be the best year ever for 4th gen boy groups, a modest reversal to the trend so far of the girl groups far outperforming the boys. NewJeans will dwarf everyone else, but overall boy groups in 4th gen will close the gap compared to their peers, in 2024. Ateez and Enhypen (performance juggernauts), Stray Kids and TXT (solid soundscape), The Boyz and P1Harmony (for the really cool kids) will be groups to watch for.

This year is critical for most boy groups because it’s their last chance to gain significant ground with k-pop fan girls (including ARMYs), before BTS comes back.

Because once BTS returns, that wall goes back up reinforced and mutated… it’s going to be so crazy lol.

[austinslounge]

I try to take everything with a grain of salt. But L&S magazine does seem like they have a good reputation. They get a lot of exclusives from sources that are usually from the PR team of the celeb. Like Austin's team giving that exclusive back in May.

So we will take with a grain of salt: It did sound like after Cabo, Kaia's parents were pressuring Austin to commit to Kaia. In what way, I don't know. They don't live together. At least not in LA. I don't know Austin's living situation when he's in NYC. But it makes me wonder if Austin and Kaia were ever that serious? Or was this just a relationship for award season? But they way they made Austin sound like a playboy was not cool. Especially when the man was in an 8 year relationship before he met Kaia.

I wonder if that was the turning point in their relationship. Her parents butting in and forcing Austin's hand. Austin wouldn't marry Vanessa after 8 years. No way is he marrying Kaia, who he can barely stand to be around. Also, if that L&S article is truthful, Austin did insinuate they have nothing in common. I think the age gap is a glaring problem. They are in two different stages in life and their careers. It definitely shows.

Even before Cabo, Austin had some down time during the actors strikes and maybe then he realized what he got himself into with Kaia. I mean those Halloween party pictures of him with her family were just upsetting to see. Austin looked so miserable.

I don't think Austin wanted to ruffle any feathers with her family. But at some point, one of them has to make a decision here. Because this relationship isn't doing anything for either of them.

Thank you for bringing this up! 😊

I honestly don't have much experience with L&S magazine, but apparently, they were one of the first few media outlets to reveal the Bennifer divorce news before it was common knowledge. 👀 So, it seems they do get some legit info from real, credible sources from time to time!

In regards to what you're saying, I do kind of wonder if maybe her family was kind of pressuring him on that trip? Honestly? It would be kind of weird for them to want to be marrying off their daughter so soon when she's just 22. 🥴

Anyway, to me it seems like Austin has definitely cooled significantly in this relationship, especially when you compare how he was back in 2022, to how he is now with her.

And girl you and I had the same thought, because I have kind of wondered for a while now if Kaia latched on to him before his film came out because she knew he'd be hot and someone to watch closely for the 2022 year, and so she wanted to get with him before he got any other options after his star rose on the fame scale. Everyone knew that Elvis movie would be huge. It's about Elvis for goodness sakes (the first biopic of him to come to the big screen), and it's by Baz freaking Luhrmann. 😏

I do also kinda of wonder if Austin was encouraged to date someone during his Elvis press tour and awards season so that the focus would be off of asking him about Vanessa or his previous 9-year relationship with another woman. 👀

Whatever the reason they got together, the sad reality is that they are still together. 😐

We're just going to have to ride this wave out folks.

But one thing we can say is that Austin doesn't look like a guy who's happier in this relationship than he was in his last. 🥴

[deepdeanvsweston]

Margaret Dolliswood Headcanons? (Thanks for doing the elizabeth one)

That's perfectly ok anon!!! Thankyou for sending it in!!!

Also I know this looks like just. a massive essay but I SWEAR it all relates and is relevant and the hcs are at the bottom!!!

Ok so her motive to kill Elizabeth was that she was a lesbian in love with Astrid Frith and Elizabeth knew this. Which I think is very interesting, considering the the stigma around lesbianism at the time, and also as seen explicitly in the books where Clementine says something along the lines of "something goes wrong in their brains" (I can't quite remember the line) when Margaret's secret comes out.

We of course don't know what was canonically happening between the Five and Elizabeth, if she was abusing them about their secrets, or simply holding them as leverage, but I do often wonder why in Margaret's case, Elizabeth wasn't afraid or disgusted of her, on page at least, because she was a lesbian - as again Clementine says "it's all the same to them" referencing how being hit or being affectionately touched is the same to a lesbian. Obviously they're all so close knit because if 1 secret gets out they all do, but I think a throwaway line in JFP like "none of the Five went near Margaret much" would have cemented the stigma.

BUT. There isn't a line like that!!! And I personally think it would have been fairly easy for the most of the Five to just ostracise Margaret, without fear of their secrets coming out as any credibility she might have had in revealing other people's secrets would have been lost completely because she was a lesbian AND THE fact that most of the Five's secrets don't much have real life consequences, if that makes sense? For example, if Florence's secret got out (which it did, but I'm referring to before E.H was killed) it would have been devastating for her and her family but not put perhaps their lives at risk. HOWEVER note I say most of the Five, because of course Una Dichmann was trying to get her Jewish grandparents out from nazi Germany which very much is a real life consequence that could put lives at risk. So imo Una and Margaret would have bonded out of sheer necessity because if Margaret was ostracised (as previously mentioned I think she'd be the most easy to) and revealed everyone's secrets, then Una's would be the one with actual danger of harm. So Una goes out of her way to cement a friendship or at the very least an alliance with Margaret to avoid this liklihood.

Ok so onto ACTUAL hcs now sorry anon

- I can't find a description of her on the wiki and I don't have my book on me so I think she has pin straight auburn hair with freckles that she hates (Astrid ADORES them tho)

- she used to be the prankster of her year, always pulling tricks on the teachers and during assemblies and creating mischief on exeat weekends

- she is always trying to put the attention away from her with all her tricks, but also desperately wants the attention

- she is the Eldest Daughter, with 3 sisters aged 3, 4, and 5 so there is an age gap

- her parents aren't cruel, not in any way, and do love her to bits, but with 4 other children they have grown a bit fatigued of parenting and so it lands on her a lot to be like 'oh I love your drawing!' 'i can take you to the loo! 'come here, your ribbon is all messed up'

- and of course as Eldest Daughter, she is expected to pave the way for her sisters, securing herself a decent husband etc etc.

- and she's actually happy with this!!! She's stuck in comphet but she thinks she's happy! Of course ALL girls stare at each other's legs in their gym kits!!!

- but then. She meets Astrid, a new student from Denmark who arrives in the last term of fourth form, and everything turns on its head

- Margaret honest to god genuinely thinks she's allergic to Astrid, or at least her perfume or detergent or something

- why does she keep having hot flushes? And butterflies in her stomach? And why does she lean forward every time Astrid goes to say something?

- Margaret realises she's a lesbian after several dreams about her and Astrid

- and her whole prankster thing changes. She becomes a model student, perfectly presentable, hw handed perfectly because she doesn't want the attention anymore. Attention means people look closer.

- one step out of line and she fears everything she has will fall to pieces because of Astrid

- they are friends at this point and through several tense moments during the summer hols before sixth form, they end up together

- and then the events of Jolly Foul Play happen and her secret comes out

- and that happens in like Sept - Nov so she still has a whole year of ridicule to go

- her parents are essentially embarrassed and ashamed of her but don't pull her out of school as they feel it's the one thing that could change her back to 'normal', and really push her into school work. And anyway

- Astrid's parents immediately pull her back to Denmark and ban any contact

- and that's almost that.

- 17 years later they find each other and buy a house by the sea. It's only ever been them for each other, anyway.

- as for the war, I'd imagine Margaret joins the WRNS (Woman's Royal Naval Service) and Astrid does something in communications (???)

- Margaret and Una, after everything, become actually close friends, and they'd both give their lives for each other given the need. I like to think their friendship becomes DaisyandHazel-esque in nature

[judgementdaysunshine]

Trust

Pairing: Raven x Fem reader

Description: After a cat fight match in the ring trust and much more is shared and revealed between you and Raven

Loosely based on this clip

You stand on the apron as Chasity runs her mouth before grabbing your hair which leads to a cat fight that grew violent and bloody. Tommy hits you in your waist and back with a kendo stick after chas busts your nose on the turn buckle watching sinister minister distract her until you're knocked down quickly locking her into an unusual submission move by tangling her wrists in between her ankles before lifting yourself into a suplex yelling in pain when your hit with a chair by Justin Credible fighting back as he picks you up Stevie kicks him in the back of the head being dropped near the ropes and rolled out of the ring by raven who lifts and carries you in his arms tangling your fingers in his hair and burying your face in the crook of his neck whimpering in your locker room as raven cleans the welts on your body but instead of him swearing or saying "Shut up and suck it up" like he does to stevie he runs his hand along your shoulder and apologizes quietly. Tears stream down your face from the stinging pain before raven and stevie help you to his car laying in the front seat with his jacket slung over you being carried to your room after stevie hugs you watching the two of you until the door of your room closes behind raven being put on the bed before he takes your shoes off even helping you strip down slowly cleaning you with a rag before leaning you back and washing your hair despite your protests that you could shower normally feeling heat flood your face noticing him eyeing your body with a look of tenderness and attraction mixed together "I trust you" the words make you smile after turning to look at him slowly caressing his face feeling your mind cut off when he kisses your palm before the gap is closed feeling surprised by how gentle and tender the kiss was as you unbuttoned his shirt leaning your head back as his hands roamed softly over your body once all your clothes were stripped off goosebumps forming as his lips pressed open mouth kisses on your body watching as he slowly took the bandages off you only to lightly trace the red welts before repeating the action arching your back when he slowly eats you out moaning in your hands until they were tangled in his hair. He watches you lightly kiss his fingers as they run over your lips before paused kisses are shared as he slowly thrusts in you which turns you to putty not only by how sweet he was being but the words he says against your lips made you emotional knowing how much he really cared for you "I love you my angel" your hands ran over the muscles of his back until they were intertwined with his leaning your head on his shoulder as he wrapped bandages on you after cleaning himself and you up holding your face in his hands "I trust you" he smiles with a laugh at you repeating his words from earlier kissing you softly falling asleep in his arms waking up to him running his fingers along your sternum before cleaning the welts sharing a kiss before getting dressed walking out to find a half asleep and flustered stevie "What's with him?" you find out on the ride to Maryland from Florida that he had accidentally walked in on the two of you asleep right before raven woke up to change your bandages laughing at the bright red blush on his face as he sits in the back seat "I knew he had a sweet spot but I didn't expect to find him with his head tucked under your chin" you smile sweetly before messing up stevie's hair giving raven a glare when he reaches his arm back to smack stevie laughing as the radio plays rock music.