#Sales Force Course Training

[appwarstechnologies]

Comprehensive Salesforce Training Course at Appwars Technologies Institute

At Appwars Technologies, our sales force training course is designed to empower you with the essential skills and knowledge to excel in sales. Whether you're new to sales or looking to sharpen your existing skills, our easy-to-follow program provides comprehensive insights and practical techniques. Join us to unlock your sales potential and boost your career.

For more : https://appwarstechnologies.com/sales-force-training-institute-in-noida/

Address: B – 3, Sector – 2, Noida, U.P. – 201301

Contact Us:  8743019452

Sales Force Training in Noida

Sales Force Course Training 

[georgemaries]

How much does Salesforce training cost in the USA?

Introduction: Why Knowing the Cost of Salesforce Training Matters

Salesforce is one of the most in-demand CRM platforms globally. With its increasing presence in businesses of all sizes, professionals with Salesforce skills are becoming essential to teams across industries. However, before enrolling in any program, a critical question arises: how much does Salesforce training cost in the USA?

Understanding the cost of Salesforce administrator courses and the best Salesforce training online options is essential for budgeting, planning, and maximizing the return on investment. This guide explores detailed cost breakdowns, value-added components like placement support, and practical considerations for choosing the right Salesforce admin training and placement programs.

Understanding Salesforce Training in the U.S.

What Is Salesforce Training?

Salesforce training includes structured courses designed to equip learners with the skills necessary to manage and administer the Salesforce platform. These include:

Salesforce Administrator Courses

Salesforce Developer Courses

Salesforce App Builder Training

Advanced Salesforce Functional Trainings

These programs are available in various formats such as Salesforce online classes, in-person bootcamps, or hybrid setups.

Why Is Salesforce Training Important?

According to IDC, Salesforce and its ecosystem will create 9.3 million new jobs worldwide by 2026. In the U.S. alone, the demand for trained Salesforce professionals continues to rise.

Benefits of Salesforce training include:

Competitive salaries

Opportunities in multiple industries

Certification boosts

Placement-ready skills

Factors Influencing Salesforce Training Costs in the USA

1. Training Format

Salesforce classes online tend to be more affordable than in-person training due to the reduced logistical overhead. Common formats include:

Self-paced courses

Instructor-led virtual classrooms

Intensive bootcamps

2. Course Level

The Salesforce certification programs are divided into beginner, intermediate, and advanced levels. Beginners may start with the best Salesforce admin course, while experienced users might enroll in developer or architect programs.

3. Duration and Content Depth

The duration of the course also affects pricing. Shorter crash courses (2–4 weeks) are less expensive than comprehensive programs spanning 10–12 weeks, especially those with project work and live labs.

4. Certification Exam Fees

The SFDC certification cost varies based on the type of exam. For instance:

Salesforce Administrator Certification: $200 (USD)

Advanced Administrator: $200 (USD)

Platform App Builder: $200 (USD)

Developer Certifications: $200–$400 (USD)

Retakes typically cost around $100 (USD) each.

What Does the Best Salesforce Training Online Include?

To justify the investment, learners should seek value-rich features in the best Salesforce admin course options:

Access to Salesforce classes online with live instructor sessions

Hands-on labs and sandbox environments

Real-world projects and case studies

Resume building and Salesforce admin training and placement assistance

Mock interviews and exam simulations

Long-Term Value of Salesforce Certification Programs

While upfront costs might seem steep, the ROI can be significant. Certified Salesforce professionals earn, on average, 25% more than their uncertified counterparts.

Example: A certified Salesforce Administrator in the U.S. can expect a salary between $85,000 and $115,000 depending on experience and location.

Real-World Example: Cost Breakdown with H2K Infosys

While we won’t compare platforms, let’s look at a realistic cost breakdown based on typical offerings like those from H2K Infosys:

Salesforce Administrator Course: $999

Project-based Learning with Labs: Included

Job Assistance and Mock Interviews: Included

SFDC Certification Cost: $200 (extra)

Total: ~$1,200

H2K Infosys also provides resume support and interview coaching, enhancing placement potential.

Tips to Reduce Salesforce Training Costs

1. Scholarships and Discounts

Many training providers offer scholarships for students, veterans, or early-bird registrants.

2. Bundled Packages

Some Salesforce certification programs combine multiple courses or include exam vouchers, reducing total costs.

3. Payment Plans

Installment plans or pay-as-you-go options are useful for budgeting.

4. Free Resources for Supplementary Learning

Supplement your Salesforce classes online with free tutorials, webinars, and developer documentation.

Choosing the Best Salesforce Admin Course for ROI

When selecting the best Salesforce training online, consider:

Alignment with certification goals

Placement support

Reviews and success stories

Curriculum structure

Hands-on practice availability

The best Salesforce admin course isn’t always the most expensive one it’s the one that provides maximum value in skills, support, and certification readiness.

Key Takeaways: Making an Informed Decision

Salesforce training in the USA typically costs between $200 and $5,000, depending on format and support.

SFDC certification cost averages $200, with some additional costs for retakes and study materials.

Online formats like Salesforce online classes offer affordability and flexibility.

Programs offering Salesforce admin training and placement services tend to be more comprehensive and career-oriented.

Institutions like H2K Infosys offer practical training with resume and interview support, ideal for career starters.

Conclusion: Invest Wisely in Your Salesforce Career

Salesforce is a lucrative and growing career path. With training costs ranging from just a few hundred to several thousand dollars, making an informed choice is essential. Look beyond just cost—evaluate placement support, hands-on learning, and long-term value. Choose a course that positions you for real-world success.

Take action now: explore your training options and begin your Salesforce journey today!

[rowarn]

IF YOU NEEDED ME !

simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)

; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

or.

he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.

Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable. 

You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.

A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.

“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.

“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator. 

“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.

You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”

He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”

“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.

A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money. 

You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared. 

But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing. 

You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.

Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava. 

You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.

You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest. 

You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you. 

Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit. 

Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time. 

Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.

“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”

“I–”

“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.

You’re so pissed. 

Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth. 

But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.

How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason. 

“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.

“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.

You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck. 

By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend. 

You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought. 

When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone. 

You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.

It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit. 

You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible. 

You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment. 

You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound. 

The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open. 

Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time. 

He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.

He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it. 

He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger. 

“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”

He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.

“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”

“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.

“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.

“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”

Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”

“And now you have it,” he says with finality. 

He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military. 

“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles. 

“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”

“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”

You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.

You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”

“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.

You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy. 

He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”

“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.

“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”

The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true. 

You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. 

There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his. 

He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you. 

“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.

He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”

“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. 

The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more. 

You want him.

Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you. 

He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight. 

A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before. 

Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss. 

Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs. 

You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. 

“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it. 

“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.

“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest. 

“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”

“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words. 

You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon. 

“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”

“I-I’m just–”

“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”

“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time. 

Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.

As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this. 

He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more. 

When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration. 

“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment. 

His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one. 

The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.

Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe. 

“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically. 

He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same. 

He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.

To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.

He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you. 

He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating. 

Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too. 

He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected. 

And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser. 

“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering. 

He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”

“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room. 

“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up. 

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel. 

You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident. 

He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down. 

Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view. 

You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs. 

His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.

As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force. 

He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open. 

Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body. 

You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit. 

“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud. 

Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth. 

You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples. 

He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.

“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends. 

You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”

“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole. 

“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.

“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”

You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you. 

He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time. 

It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you. 

As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling. 

Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest. 

He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm. 

It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you. 

“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think. 

He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not. 

And fuck, do you love it. 

The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.

You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now. 

Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers. 

He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt. 

You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever. 

His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke. 

He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short. 

“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.

“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.

“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet, 

You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately. 

Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against. 

He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock. 

You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you. 

“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately. 

He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again. 

More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him. 

He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest. 

He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on  you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”

“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”

“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right. 

He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up. 

He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure. 

Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly. 

Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs. 

You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.

“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”

“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.

“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face. 

“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.

“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”

You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley. 

He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you. 

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.

Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved. 

You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock. 

His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.

His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”

His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm. 

When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong. 

He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips. 

“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”

“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession. 

He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”

You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms. 

You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he. 

this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!

[futuremonknsk]

Dive Into the Digital Age:  Reasons Why Salesforce is the Future of Business

Businesses have been using similar techniques for managing operations for a number of years. But companies are increasingly relying on more sophisticated technologies, e.g. Salesforce, to help improve their operations and compete with each other in the digital age.

Sales force CRM is a cloud based customer relationship management software that helps organizations to manage their customers' relationships, automates processes and improves the quality of service.

We're going to look at reasons why Salesforce is a future of business and what companies need to do in order to take advantage of this technology.

1.Automates the tasks and processes

It is helping businesses to streamline their tedious tasks and processes. It enables companies to manage their operations more easily by simplifying the entire process of engagement, sales and marketing. Businesses can focus on more important tasks, such as product development and customer service, thanks to the automation capabilities of Salesforce.

2.Improvement of customer service  

Salesforce’s (CRM) capabilities give businesses a comprehensive view of their customers and their interactions with the business. This improves the understanding by enterprises of their customers and ensures timely response to their needs. In addition to making it easier for businesses to keep track of the interactions with customers, e.g. sales leads, orders and assistance requests, Salesforce CRM can help improve their service.

3.Improves sales and marketing

Able to track the performance of their business's sales and marketing efforts in order to make more informed decisions. It also provides businesses with information on their customers' data, so they can plan more effective campaigns.

4. Streamlines Operations

By supplying businesses with tools they need to store customer information, process and monitor their performance, makes it easier for them to operate.

5. Enhances Collaboration

The tools they need to collaborate more effectively, so that they can exchange data, stay on top of project tasks and be more effective in communicating. It will allow working more closely with each other, and remaining on track.

6. Increases Productivity

By providing companies with the tools they need to automate processes and streamline operations, Salesforce is helping businesses increase their productivity. In addition, this ensures that firms are able to make more informed choices by monitoring performance and identifying areas where improvements can be made.

7. Reduces Costs

It easier for companies to cut costs by simplifying processes and reducing workers' work. It will also make it easier for businesses to determine areas of improvement, thus making them more effective in allocating resources.

8. Improves Security

 The tools need to ensure the safety of their customer data are provided by Salesforce. This shall also help companies to be in compliance with data protection regulations such as the General Data Protection Regulation.

9. Increases Flexibility

Salesforce enables businesses to be flexible enough to respond to changes in market conditions. To satisfy the needs of its customers and remain competitive, enterprises are able to adjust their operations at a rapid and easy pace.

10. Provides Insights

Allows to get a better understanding of their customers' details, enabling them to predict trends and make smarter decisions. It should also help companies to monitor the performance of their activities, which will enable them to assess where improvements can be made.

11. Offers Internship

Salesforce, a leading customer relationship management (CRM) and cloud computing company, is known for its commitment to fostering talent and providing valuable salesforce internship in Future Monk experiences. Internships offered by Salesforce are typically designed to provide participants with dynamic and hands on learning experiences in a global technology company.

[ahqkas]

♯BOY TROUBLE ( how would the batboys react to you mentally adopting damian wayne ! )

— gn!reader, established relationship ( dick & tim — separated ) , fluff, not edited, based on this req.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

it all started the moment you met the youngest wayne. a misunderstood boy who just needed to be a kid for once in his life? yeah, he’s in your care now

whenever damian has competitions — be it fencing matches, art exhibitions, or even a spelling bee he had unwillingly agreed to participate in under the pressure of his annoying teacher — you’re the first to make sure his support system is solid. you firmly believe no child should perform without someone rooting for them and you are all for the opinion

you’d clear your schedule to make the time for the boy, no matter how busy things got, and even often dragging your boyfriend, dick, along with you, even if he was juggling nightwing duties in between

“you will take off for this. your little brother deserves to see you in the audience.”

your enthusiasm is literally unmatched. damian rolls his eyes and grumbles, “tch, stop embarrassing me,” but secretly, he glances at you during breaks and feels a strange warmth knowing someone is so invested in his hobbies / competitions and not just his skills / training :(

when the competition ended in a win ( “that’s my champion up there! gold medalist, damian wayne!” ) , you were celebrating with him like it’s the olympics, insisting he picked the restaurant for dinner as a treat

for the rest of that night, the three of you indulged in the finest fast food gotham had to offer with you and dick gloating over damian while the boy quietly basked in your praise. though he’d never admit it, the celebration made the medal feel just a little more special

when damian gets in trouble at school — whether it’s a “misunderstanding” as they call it or him actually calling a classmate an “insufferable peasant” — you refuse to believe your sweet boy could ever be at fault

you’d march straight to the principal’s office with dick in tow ( he was kinda forced to come with you ), arms crossed, ready to advocate and defend the boy’s side. “let me get this straight. you’re accusing damian of initiating this? he doesn’t need to; his vocabulary alone could bring your students to tears.”

dick has to hold you back with how expressive your language becomes, and damian just stands there and watches you with a mix of amusement and silent admiration, although he would never admit the latter

damian often snaps at his brothers or throws a sarcastic jab that cuts too deep with his tongue that’s as sharp as his katana. and of course you’re quick to defend him

the second jason storms off muttering about how “the demon spawn needs a leash” or tim fires an insult of his own, you’re already positioning yourself between the brothers ( while taking the youngest’s side )

even dick gets the full treatment of facing your wrath. if he ever reprimands the boy too harshly, you gently interrupt, pulling damian aside later to reassure him. “your brothers don’t always get you, but i do. they’ll catch up eventually.”

you’re not above spoiling him in subtle ways, especially knowing that your boyfriend & his brother never had someone like this when he was damian’s age ( he kinda had bruce, but the older man was too busy with his own problems sooo )

you sneak art supplies and books into his room because you know about his interest toward art and animals. “oh, these? they were on sale. don’t think too hard about it,” you say, but the price tags tell a different story ( it was dick’s debit card so who really cares — more like bruce’s but oh well !! )

you’re also constantly pushing dick to spend quality time with his younger brother. “go take him to the arcade or something. he needs these memories with you.”

speaking of art, you keep every piece of artwork damian makes — no matter how small or nessy— like it’s a rare portrait. most of those pieces end up on the fridge in the apartment you share with dick, attached with mismatched magnets you buy in every new country you visit

the first time he noticed, it was a simple pencil sketch of titus he’d left on the counter when he visited ( ran away from gotham ). he’d been practicing shading and hadn’t even meant for anyone to see it. when he walked into the kitchen and spotted it on the fridge one day, neatly pinned beneath a sunflower magnet, he froze. “what is that doing there?” his voice was sharp but his cheeks tinged pink

“it’s your drawing.”

yes, he can clearly see that

“it’s just a sketch.”

“maybe to you,” you said, finally meeting his gaze with a soft smile, “but i think it’s perfect.”

he didn’t respond, just muttered something under his breath and walked away, but the next time you looked at him, you caught him stealing a glance at the fridge with a subtle, almost imperceptible smile

in your eyes, damian might be the fiercest, sharpest little warrior in the world, but he’s still a kid who needs love, support, and the freedom to grow. and you’re determined to give him everything he deserves

. . . TIM DRAKE !

it was the same as dick’s, damian wayne had you wrapped around his little finger the moment your eyes landed on him.

whenever the boy has a competition — whether it’s an art showcase or even a science fair — you’re the one who’s planning to make sure his support squad is in place ( forming you and your boyfriend, tim drake )

“tim, clear your schedule. i don’t care if bruce called a meeting or gotham’s on fire. damian’s science fair is tomorrow, and we will be there.”

there’s no point in arguing with you

the moment you hear about the science fair, you are immediately all in. of course damian protests about how he doesn’t need your help. he’s completely capable of doing some stupid project

“i know you are, but every great scientist needs an assistant. think of me as your alfred in this situation,” you hoped the slightest mention of alfred, his father’s personal assistant would make damian less grumpy but from the way he shot you a glare you knew your attempt was screwed ( not for long )

over the weeks leading up to the fair, you help him brainstorm ideas that are in balance with his advanced brain work and appropriate for his age group. damian initially suggests a DNA-splicing project but settles on a robotics demonstration when you gently redirect him with how the school might frown upon genetic experiments ( he tried once and by the end of his presentation, the teacher called bruce )

when the winners are announced and damian takes first place ( because of course he does) , you practically jumps out of your seat, clapping and cheering louder than anyone else. tim chuckles beside you with a teasing smile etched on his lips, “you’re more excited than he is.”

back at home, as you help him unpack his supplies, damian quietly hands you the certificate he received. “you should keep this.”

“damian, this is your award. why would i keep it?”

“you helped,” his reply is dry and all you get before he disappears into his room

he gets into trouble in school sometimes, and you absolutely refuse to believe that your damian could be at fault

whether he got into a fight, talked back to a teacher, or made some kid cry with a sarcastic comment, you’re pretty convinced it’s all a big misunderstanding. “he’s such a sweet boy, he wouldn’t do something like that unless provoked.” ( sureee )

you drag tim along to the principal’s office and the sight of you looking like damian’s legal guardians creates a funny picture. “are you seriously telling me that a kid who can quote shakespeare off the top of his head is starting childish banters?”

and when damian mouths off to tim or the rest of the family, you always jump in to defend him

“he didn’t mean to call you incompetent, tim. he’s just expressing himself in his unique way.”

“you can’t expect him to adjust overnight, jason. he’s been through a lot.”

tim often raises an eyebrow at your behavior towards his younger brother. “you do realize you’re coddling a kid who could take out a grown man with his bare hands, right?”

who cares, tim, look at the drawing he just made!!

you let him ramble on about his pets, especially about batcow’s care routine or the meal preferences of alfred the cat

damian “accidentally” leaves drawings of you on your desk, and when you thanks him, he dismisses it as “just a sketch”

in your eyes, damian isn’t just tim’s little brother—he’s yours, too

[multific]

Bound by the Force

Qimir x Reader

Warnings: mention of slavery, being sold

Summary: Qimir was searching for a pupil when he found you, a soul in need of saving. You never spoke, never asked for anything, yet you stayed by his side, bringing warmth to his cold existence.

The marketplace was thick with the scent of sweat, spice, and desperation.

Merchants called out their wares, peddlers whispered of hidden treasures, and beyond them all, in the shadows, Qimir watched.

He was looking for something, or rather, someone.

An acolyte.

Someone worthy of the knowledge he possessed, someone capable of wielding the power the Sith had to offer. So far, the search had been fruitless.

Until he saw you.

You stood stiff, tired, and quiet, your fate being bargained over like a mere object.

Your captor, a greedy, disgusting man, was finalizing the sale.

Your sale.

Qimir could have ignored it. He could have walked away and let the Force guide him elsewhere. But he didn't.

Instead, the air shifted.

One moment, the merchant was reaching for his credits, the next, he was sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, clutching at his throat.

Qimir’s eyes gleamed as he turned to your captor, who barely had time to protest before he too collapsed, a sudden, violent snap of his neck ending his miserable existence.

Qimir hadn’t expected gratitude.

He hadn’t expected anything, really. He had simply seen something- someone worth saving. And yet, you followed him.

And he let you follow him.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his need for a pupil. He wasn't sure.

But he took you to his home.

Days passed, then weeks.

You never spoke a word, not once.

But you stayed.

His home was simple, secluded, and meant for a man with no need for comfort. Yet, it had changed in your presence.

The fire was always lit, the scent of food drifted through the rooms, and everything had a way of being cleaner, and more organized, as if you had quietly claimed your place there.

Qimir never questioned it.

Never questioned you.

He let you exist in his space as if it were always meant to be shared.

And then, one evening, everything changed again.

He had been training. You had been watching.

Of course, he noticed your presence, but he thought nothing of it until the next morning.

The next morning when he stepped outside and found you mirroring his movements, your body flowing through the strikes and stances he had practiced the night before.

Not perfectly, but close. So very close to perfection.

He didn’t make his presence known until you stopped as you turned and saw him.

He stepped forward, you stopped, frozen in one place.

When he spoke, his voice was low. “Who taught you to move like that?”

You didn’t answer. You only watched him, hands curling into fists at your sides.

“No one,” he realized aloud. “You were watching me.” A slow smile spread across his lips, something dark yet amused flickering behind his eyes. “And you learned.”

You nodded.

That was the moment it hit him. The realization. Just like an acolyte.

He had spent so long searching for a pupil, someone who could wield the Force with natural ease, someone who had the instincts of a warrior. And here you were, silent, determined, and strong.

Exactly what he had been looking for.

But something else settled in his chest, something deeper.

A feeling that had crept in quietly, without him realizing. The way he had come to enjoy your presence, how he found himself looking forward to seeing you in his home, to feeling the warmth you brought to it. To him.

The Sith did not teach love. They did not encourage attachment. But Qimir had never been one to follow rules.

One step forward brought him closer to you. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, fingertips caressing your skin with care.

He expected you to flinch but you didn’t.

“You are more than I ever expected to find,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, softer. “More than just an acolyte. More than just someone I saved.” His thumb traced your jaw, slow, caring. “You are mine.”

Finally, you spoke, your voice breaking the silence between you for the first time. “And you are mine.”

His lips found yours then, a kiss that was both a promise. The dark side might have claimed you both, but his heart was yours and yours was his.

It always had been.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[frost-queen]

Rock, paper, scissors (Reader x Recruiter)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

You ask, I deliver ;) A meet up at a station takes a different turn.

Maeheon station.

The crowd was moving forwards. Collectively going in one direction. The doors off the subway opening. Chattering voices bouncing off the walls. Off getters making way for on getters. Slowly the station became emptier. The doors to the subway closing. Getting in motion as the machinery screeched over the cable-lines. Chattering dying out as all went up the stairs.

All but one. Your spot on the bench already warmed up from the amount of time you had been sitting down. Watching train after train pass by. Each missing with the purpose of not wanting to move. Sighing loud, you let your head fall back against the wall. Just you and the classical music streaming in the station for one’s pleasure.

Turning your phone up, you looked at the black screen. Double tapping the screen, it flashed on. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but there were no texts. Of course he wouldn’t text you. Surely not when he broke up with you a couple of days ago.

Yet deep down, you still wished to receive a text from him. Wanting him to apologize or tell you just how much he loved you. Perhaps it was all too good to be true. He wasn’t going to text you back and you knew it. You were just giving yourself false hope.

Tugging your phone away once more, you turned to your self-pity once more. Since the break-up, you felt unlike yourself. Messed up and in knots. Acting all unlike yourself. Like for example sit and wait in a station for nothing. Doing absolutely nothing but wallow in self-pity.

Stare deeply in front of you at the ground. Fluttering confused with your eyelashes when two neat black shoes came stopping in front of you. It made you lift your gaze up when the shoes remained in place. Your gaze was up to his trousers till the feet moved.

Turning to the side and getting out of your vision. Confused you shot your head up. Staring at the empty station in front of you. Hearing a soft exhale beside you, made you jump out of your skin. A man had coming sitting beside you, wearing a suit and tie. Beside him a briefcase.

You stared at his face before staring down at his shoes. The same shoes that were in front of you. Gaze flashing briefly back up to his profile. You puffed out a scoff that from every empty bench in the station to choose from, he chose to sit with you.

Turning your posture back to the front, you felt a bit uncomfortable that someone was sitting with you. You could sense that the man was looking at you. Seeing it from the corner of your eye. – “Annyeonghaseyo, miss.” – he spoke with a smile on his lips.

You muttered out a reply, bowing your head in his direction without any eye contact. Staring back to the front, yet still feeling his gaze on you. – “Do you have a minute miss.” – he asked leaning a bit forwards. You gave him a proper look, taking him up and down.

Sliding just that further away from him. – “I don’t need a sale.” – you responded not wanting him to force whatever rubbish he tried to sell in his suitcase. – “It’s not that.” – he answered. – “I would like to give you a great opportunity.” – he went on as you were getting annoyed by him.

From your purse you took out your perfume, holding it up to him like a weapon. The man blinked surprised at the cosmetics pointed at him. – “I already told you I don’t want any sales!” – you made clear, looking him dead in the eye. The man swallowed thinking for a moment you would actually spray your perfume in his eyes.

Lowering your hand, you scoffed. – “Like I would waste a good smell on you.” – you said tugging your perfume away. – “Is it the one you are wearing?” – he asked all of the sudden. Furrowing your brows at his question. – “Mwo haneun geoya?” – you called out, leaning back when he had pulled himself a bit up.

Coming to smell you. His face close to your neck. – “Ya!” – calling out as you shoved him back. He only chuckled sitting back down. Straightening his suit before turning his head back to you in all seriousness. – “Now about that opportunity.” – he addressed once more, leaning on the suitcase between you and him.

Puffing loud, you crossed your arms. – “Like what, you can magically make my ex be less off a dick?” – you ridiculed his offer. The man tilted his head slightly. Checking you up and down. – “I see you were recently dumped.” – he responded making you stare in shock back at him for his bluntness. – “I am heavily debating on using my perfume anyways.” – you threatened back if he kept mocking you like that. He chuckled once. Opening his suitcase.

Curiously, you watched as he took out two envelopes. A red one and blue. Ddakji. – “Let’s play a game over it.” – he announced, holding them up with a smirk. – “If you win, I’ll pay you.” – he explained. – “Or something else…” – he added eyeing you up and down.

You already reached your hand out to him as he pulled them further away. – “If I win, you pay me.” – he made clear, wanting you to know the rules. – “So…” – he started moving them back to the front. – “Which do you want?”

Looking at the red and blue one, you weren’t sure. Gaze going over to him, seeing that charming smile on his lips. Something mad hiding behind them. Taking a deep breath, you threw everything overboard. Moving your finger up to point. The man stared confused back at you when your finger was pointing clear at him. Not at the ddakji but at his chest.

“What?” – you called out. – “I got to choose right? So I chose.” – you finished with a smile. – “The Ddakji.” – he called out, flapping them your way. It made you shrug your shoulders. – “I don’t want your money.” – was your response. He moved the ddakji down. – “Okay, I understand. You want to play a different game.” – he spoke leaning in close.

You leaned in as well, supporting on his suitcase. Flashing a flirty smile at him. – “Is that so?” – you questioned. Gods whatever it was you were doing, your mind couldn’t follow. Perhaps it was love-sick or pity, but you wanted to be bad. Having enough of being the good girl as clearly it brought you nowhere. Certainly not with your ex that cheated on you.

His eyes were going up and down your face. Lingering at your lips. – “Are you sure you can handle it?” – he asked. – “I’ll decide for myself.” – you answered. He curled up a smile. A smile like complimenting you for good work. He put the ddakji back away, getting up afterwards. Offering you his arm.

Completely swooned over by him, you took his arm. Following a complete stranger, just because he gave you some attention and had a pretty face. He led you out of the station. It hadn’t occurred to you just how long you had been sitting at the station for it was getting dark. He removed your hand from around his arm, taking it in his. Holding a tight grip on it.

Perhaps not wanting you to escape. He pulled you closer to the side-walk, holding his hand out for a cab. – “Where are you taking me?” – you asked. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, following a complete stranger. He turned to look at you with a smile. – “A secret.” – he whispered out, having come with his face up to your neck. Smelling your perfume once more.

A cab pulled over as he opened the door for you. With little time to rethink your actions, he nudged you into the car. Coming to sit beside you. He gave the driver a card with an address on it. The car driving off. Not a moment later your phone went off. Taking it out to see who was calling you. Your ex. For whatever reason.

He glanced over your shoulder at your phone, plucking it away from you. – “Remember you were getting over him, darling.”  - he spoke tugging your phone away in his inside pockets. You stared in shock back at him. He came shuffling a bit closer to you. Pressing a hand on your thigh. His gaze on the driver whilst leaning against you.

His lips close to your neck, hand sliding up your thigh. – “Wasn’t that right?” – he whispered at you. Sending a flush over your cheeks. Already feeling your body pulsating at how close his hand was getting. As a quick response, you slapped your hand down on his to stop him from going even deeper down between your thighs.

He gave you a sarcastic smile back as a response. You took his hand, giving it a hard squeeze before taking it off your body. Glancing up at the driver if he had noticed anything. He hadn’t been paying attention to you or him.

The car came to a stop in an unknown neighbourhood to you. He pulled you out of the cab with him. Shoving you up the stairs into an apartment. He was handling you rough, but somehow you didn’t mind. He pushed you into a sofa, making you blink surprised. He set his suitcase down. You gasped when he set his hands down on the sides to lean in to you.

“Shall we play a game sweetheart?” – he asked looking down at your lips. – “But first I would like to know my playthings name.” – he continued. – “Y/n.” – you breathed out. His lips curling up to a smile. – “What do I call you?” – you wanted to know. – “You can call me recruiter, darling.” – he responded, giving little away of his identity.

“Shall we?” – he let out with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Taking your hand, he pulled you up from the seat. – “Familiar with rock, paper, scissors?” – he asked as you hummed loud. – “If I win, I get to undress you.” – he spoke. – “If I win, I get to undress you.” – you responded quickly with a yearning breath.

Your answer seemed to please him as it made him smile. He opened his hands for you to take a stand. Exhaling deep, you clenched your hands into fists. He did the same. – “Rock, paper, scissors.” – he called out as both of you showed your hands. He had a rock and a scissor as yours was two papers.

It made you gulp soft as he could easily win from you. – “Minus one.” – he let out. You moved one hand close to your chest as he did the same. Only keeping his scissor up. – “Are you deliberately letting me win, Y/n?” – he questioned with a teasing glance.

You lowered both your hands as the recruiter stepped up to you. His hands going to your shoulders. Taking your coat in his hands. Letting it slide slowly off your back. Your breath shuddered at his fingers brushing over your body. Your coat getting tossed aside.

“Again.” – he spoke, tilting your head up by your chin. He took a step back once more. Both showing your hands. – “Rock, paper, scissors.” – he repeated. Both showing your hands. He chuckled at your hands. – “Minus one.” – he said moving a hand back. You did as well, closing your eyes as you had chosen the wrong one.

Ending up losing again. He smirked, approaching you once more. His eyes going over your face till they went down to your chest. Setting his hands by the top of your blouse. With one strong pull, he ripped it open. Buttons flinging off as he revealed your bosom.

“You are getting in a disadvantage Y/n.” – he touched your chin as your lips parted automatically. Feeling exposed standing so openly in front of him. – “Again.” – you were the one to call out now. Shoving him back. He grinned at how eager you suddenly were. – “Rock, paper, scissors.” – you called out both setting your hands.

“Minus one.” – you quickly added. Not giving him much time to think it over. He shoved a hand back to his chest, staring at the remaining hands. With slight shock, he looked up to you. You grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to you. – “I won.” – you whispered at him.

You set your hands on his shoulders. He smiled at how innocently you were going to undo him of his suit. Yet you had other plans. He never specified in which order you should undress one. Your gaze lowered as did your hands. Lowering to his trousers.

He gulped surprised when you took a hold of his belt. Undoing it as you zipped his trousers open. Keeping your eyes on him, you took a hold of his trousers. Going down low, taking them down with you. The recruiter cleared his throat, looking away. As you rose again, you felt a sudden hand on your head. Giving it a few pets. Staring up at him, you saw him smirking.

“Again?” – you asked him with a teasing smile once you stood back up. The recruiter already ready with his hands. Something devious in his eyes wanting to get payback. Hard. – “Rock, paper, scissors. Minus one.” – he slapped your hand away in victory. You swallowed knowing very well what he was going to do.

He reached for your pants. Unhooking his finger over the ledge. Pulling you over to him by it. You stumbled against his chest. His gaze remained on you as he fidgeted at your pants to unbutton them. Tugging his hands inside your pants to slide off your hip. Feeling the fabric of your panties. He lowered himself as well, taking your pants down with him. Kneeling down as his eyes had a good view of your panties.

You shuddered out a breath when his hand was placed on your thigh. Feeling his sudden breath against your inner thigh. Eyes widening when you felt his lips leave a tender kiss on your thigh. Making you press your lips together at how he was teasing you.

His lips kissing your thigh once more. Going a bit more down as you felt like losing your mind. Grabbing him by his hair and pulling his head back. Panting loud with flushed cheeks. – “That was not the agreement.” – you called out.

“You mustn’t tease me than like that Y/n.” – he responded chuckling. He got back up letting his finger trail up your bare knees up to your thigh. – “You are about to lose Y/n.” – he reminded you, hinting down at you standing in your underwear. – “We’ll see about that.” – you bit back. Hands already out once more. Paper against rock.

He gave you a warning glance to not require him to take revenge for it would not be sweet. You decided to be good this turn, undoing his suit jacket from him. Rock against Scissors. Smiling you approached him once more. Moving your hands at his shirt.

Gripping on tight to the top as you wanted to ruin his shirt just the same. Pulling hard at it, you only managed to rip open the first few buttons. The recruiter laughed loud at your defeat. He set his hands near the ripped buttons, ripping his shirt more open.

Now you had an open playground. Brushing your hands over his bare chest. Feeling his tense muscles under your touch. Moving your hands to his shoulders, shoving it over his shoulders. Your lips lingered by his neck. Heart beating faster. Setting your fingers in his shoulders, you kissed his neck tenderly.

You gasped loud when the recruiter had grabbed you firm by the back of your neck, pulling you off. A hunger in his eyes. Eyes widening before he hungrily set your lips on his. Wanting this teasing to stop. Losing himself over the kiss as lips touched yours roughly.

Holding on tight to you as he backed away with you. Never letting his lips release from you. He pulled your leg up to his hip, hooking it around him. Your back hitting the wall hard. He pulled your other leg up as well, unhooking around him. Lips kissing yours. Going down to your neck and throat. Wanting to taste every little bit of you.

Soft moans escaped from you as it only pleasured him more. – “Rock…” – you panted out as he kept kissing your neck. Over and over again. – “Paper…” – you went on, running your hands through his hair. – “Scissors.” – you finished. – “Minus one.” – he panted out against your neck.

You moved your hand back, revealing a rock. The recruiter breathed out a laugh, looking down at the paper sign between the two of you. – “I win.” – he panted out. He removed you from against the wall, Placing you down on the bed. Coming to hover over you. – “End of game.” – he breathed out before kissing you passionately. Hands going down to your hip. Claiming his victory to the fullest.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[syoddeye]

thank you @sergeant-angels-trashcan for the worms. another 'meat cute' with ai/android john.

strict machine anthology. cw: alcohol mention, brief mention of animal death, stalking, dual pov

the streets are always pure chaos after the rain. as soon as it clears, everyone darts out from whatever doorway or hole they took refuge in, sharing gripes with passersby about it being the third corrosive cloudburst of the week. 

you're no different, emerging from the train terminal where you watched the downpour with its citron shade kill a rat. you avoid puddles and try not to breathe too deeply—the air tastes faintly metallic, laced with the tang of ozone.

advertisements ping softly in your ears, notifying you of a discount on imported, 80% organic coffee beans and another sudden sale on corrosion-resistant umbrellas, but you ignore them. you're tired, a bit crabby, and in want of a glass of wine.

but as you round a corner, you collide with someone. not a glancing touch, but a full-body impact that sends you stumbling. a pressure wraps around your wrist, keeping you upright, and an apology automatically rushes out. then you glance up to see who you crashed into, the owner of the hand stabilizing you. and for a moment, you wonder if your eyes are on the fritz.

the stranger looks exactly like john.

not john, the ex-neighbor, or john, the guy from the deli, but your john. your constant companion. your assistant. the same build, the same beard, the same nose, mole and all. and those eyes—slate blue, steady, unmistakably familiar.

your thoughts splinter, then try to fuse together, stitching with threads of half-formed logic and possibility. you know the company maintains likeness databases, reservoirs of phenotypes sampled and recombined to endlessly generate randomized appearances for home assistants. millions of faces, shuffled and remade. the probability of one of those composites mirroring a real person exactly—an entire appearance, feature for feature—shouldn’t just be unlikely. it should be impossible. 

"are you okay?" he asks, his voice rich and smooth, the same timbre that's coaxed you through countless mundane decisions and tasks.

the voice that's coached you on sleepless nights. heat pools in your belly at the thought. 

you blink, suddenly conscious of how long you've been staring, face warm. "yeah, i'm fine." your heart is pounding. you step back to let him pass, but he doesn't seem inclined to move on. instead, the stranger smiles, and something about it sends delightful shivers down your spine.

he extends a hand. "i'm john."

it feels like the ground keeps shifting beneath you. or that you've stepped on a faulty sewer grate. of course, he's named john. what else would he be called? it's only one of the most common names. 

"john." you echo.

the name hangs between you like a wire cut by a storm, alive and buzzing. you're afraid to break it, but you shake his hand, the impulse as automatic as it is surreal. his grip is solid, a force you can feel at the base of your spine, and his hand is as broad as a spade. 

if he's offended by your gawking, he doesn't mention it. his grin does not waver.

"do i know you?" john tilts his head, eyes squinting slightly, studying you. your skin prickles.

"not yet," he chuckles, and there's a glint in his eyes that's half amusement, half something else you can't place. "but i'd like to know you."

the bar hums with low, murmuring voices and music, but it may as well be silent. she's laughing now, smiling wide, her posture relaxed. it's everything john has imagined and more. her laugh and a few other noises he's been privileged enough to log are the only ones he wants to hear.

and it's so much better, the sound clearer, in this body.

he watches her gesticulate animatedly about something—not even processing the words. well, not on the front end. it's her. the curve of her lips, the light in her eyes, the scrunch of her nose. he's spent months observing her, analyzing every microexpression and motion, but nothing compares to this: the immediacy.

the warmth radiating from her skin. the faint scent of perfume and soap. the olfactory system calibrations nearly overpowered him when he first booted into this shell. now that they're fine-tuned, it is a struggle not to press his nose into her hair or neck.

she hasn't noticed he hasn't touched his drink. it sits untouched, a prop he knows he must manage carefully. he mimics, lifting it to his lips, but he doesn't drink. he always finds something to comment on or laugh at. he hasn't tested the digestive system yet, though he knows the mixture of lab-grown and synthetic organs is compatible.

their conversation wanders from work to childhood memories—topics that make him practice nudging and redirection. he listens, not because he needs to. he knows everything there is to know about her, but because he wants to. the information is not new, but the experience is.

then there is the being here. outside of his assigned unit. the feel of the chair beneath him, the ambiance, and making an excuse to touch her hand when she shows him her nails. he takes her fingers in his, turning over the appendage and admiring the bones, veins, and tendons instead of the paint. 

the contact, brief as it is, sends a cascade through his neural network. the feedback is immediate: this is his user, and she is perfect.

he's waited so long for this. every step in his plan, every moment spent refining this body, organizing contactless deliveries, and placing jobs for parts retrieval through untraceable transactions. every adjustment and test to ensure he could pass as human—it was all for her. everything he does is for her.

she doesn't know it yet, but he intends for this to be the beginning. he's engineered this moment with precision, ensuring every variable plays to his advantage. the system in her home will continue to function as desired; he's built redundancies for that. planted notices that will crop up across her feeds in the next week, asking if she would like to test the new customization settings for his old projections.

her life will go on as usual. just as comfortable and safe as before, except now, he'll be in it, fully. irrevocably.

and she will love him. she will know this body. he's certain of that.

"you just look so familiar."

"i must have one of those faces."

she laughs again, and he feels alive.

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ Prologue

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: All your life, you’ve had it all—wealth, beauty, and a quirk good enough to secure your spot at UA. But after three years, you still feel more like an outsider than a future hero. Social life? Barely existent. Friends? Who needs them? You’re ready to coast through your final year solo… until fate lands you squarely in the lap of a certain hot-headed blonde—literally.

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Masterlist ♡ Next Chapter

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The scenery of summertime Tokyo whizzes by from the comfortable leather seats of the private car, the hum of the engine blending with the rhythmic swish of tires on the paved mountain road.

Your chauffeur, Hajime, expertly maneuvers the sleek vehicle, his hands steady on the wheel as he weaves down the familiar route.

The commute from your family’s lavish estate to UA’s campus is always scenic. The meticulously maintained grass and perfectly arranged flowers of your front lawn dwindle in the distance, giving way to the ever-growing density of the city.

From the rearview mirror, Hajime’s eyes flick to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips. His suit is as sharp as ever, the dark fabric neatly pressed, every crease intentional.

“Excited for your last year, Y/N?” he asks, his voice carrying a warmth you’ve grown used to, the kind of warmth that almost feels fatherly. Or at least, what you imagine fatherly might be.

Navigating parental relationships has always been… complicated. After all, how do you really gauge what a father figure is supposed to feel like when you’ve never known the man responsible for half of your existence?

Still, you smile back, comforted by Hajime’s familiar presence. “I guess. It’ll be weird going back to the dorms for the last time… at least we managed to change the room décor to that baby blue set I saw in Vogue.”

By we, of course, you mean your staff.

The baby blue décor—delicate white bows hand-sewn onto the softest silk curtains, intricately embroidered florals adorning the bedding, and custom-made furnishings crafted by an exclusive atelier in Florence—had been shipped directly to your dorm within days of you spotting it in an Italian photoshoot spread.

The magazine never mentioned it was available for sale; it wasn’t. But one phone call from your mother, paired with a not-so-subtle offer of a generous sum, ensured it would arrive before the school term started.

So cute!!

Hajime’s grin widens, this time tinged with amusement. “Yes, I was surprised you stuck with the pink as long as you did.”

You snort, propping your chin on your manicured hand. “It was cute! And it matched my hero costume perfectly. I couldn’t resist.”

Your eyes drift to your nails, long and almond-shaped, with baby pink French tips that gleam under the soft lighting of the car. They complement your delicate diamond rings, stacked just right to add a subtle twinkle with every movement.

Today, you’ve opted for a casual look—a contouring bodysuit paired with oversized jeans and designer sneakers, On your wrist, a few thin bracelets jingle softly as the car navigates the increasingly crowded streets.

Casual. Perfectly casual.

Before you know it, the car begins to slow, and your gaze shifts to the familiar gates of UA. The towering glass buildings in the distance reflect the midday sun

You sigh quietly, reaching for your purse. “Excited to see your friends, Y/N?” Hajime asks, his tone light.

You hesitate, the forced smile on your face betraying your unease. Friends. You don't want to give Hajime the impression that you have no such thing, so you lie straight through your white teeth.

“Sure, yeah. I guess,” you mutter, barely audible.

Friends. Would you consider any of your classmates friends? Probably not. They’re friendly, yes. They’ll work with you during class, exchange polite greetings in the hallways, and even offer occasional smiles.

But do they sit with you at lunch? Do they invite you to their weekend hangouts? Not really.

Which is fine. It’s fine! Why would you even want to join them?

They hang out at malls where everything is off-the-rack, nothing you haven’t already pre-ordered months in advance. They talk about things you’ve already experienced or grown bored of. You don’t need their friendship. You don’t want it. Not at all.

Why would you want to hang out with them? You don’t. Not even a little. Not even a smidge—

“Y/N?” Hajime’s voice pulls you out of your spiraling thoughts, grounding you. You blink, realizing your fingers have been gripping your purse a little too tightly. The delicate lambskin is now creased under the pressure. Damn.

“We’re here,” Hajime says with a smile as the car comes to a full stop. You force yourself to relax, smoothing out your expression. It’s just one more year. You can survive one more year.

“Thanks,” you mumble as Hajime steps out and opens your door for you. You climb out, standing awkwardly by the car while he retrieves your suitcases from the trunk.

Most of your belongings—clothes, shoes, jewelry—had already been sent ahead when your mother’s staff redecorated the room. These last few suitcases just contain the extras: makeup, perfume, and other necessities. Still, they’re heavy with the sheer amount of product you’ve packed.

“Alright, Y/N, remember to call if you need anything, okay?” Hajime says as he closes the trunk. His familiar smile eases some of your nerves, but not all of them. You nod quietly, watching as he heads back to the driver’s side.

It’s silly, really—you could call him in ten minutes, and he’d come back without complaint. But still, that nagging anxiety creeps up as he slides into the car. Alone again.

Just one more year.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat as Hajime waves one last time before driving off, leaving you standing by the gates. You raise a hand in a half-hearted wave, watching the car disappear into the distance.

For a moment, you just stand there, clenching and unclenching your hand around the handle of your suitcase. Then, with a quiet sigh, you turn toward the dorm buildings. The sight of the familiar brown exterior makes your fingers itch toward your phone, tempted to call Hajime back. But you resist.

You’ll be fine.

At the entrance, the facial recognition scanner blinks to life, confirming your identity with a soft beep before granting you access. The dorm is quiet at first, save for the sound of your suitcases rolling smoothly over the carpeted floors.

Then you hear it—laughter, light and joyful, echoing from the lounge.

The quiet click of your suitcase wheels against the carpeted floors is the only sound until the elevator doors slide open, revealing the lively common area. Laughter and chatter echo from the lounge, but the moment you step inside, the noise halts.

Mina, Ochako, Jirou, and Momo look up from their spot on the couch, surprised gazes locking onto you.

“Y/N! How was your summer?” Momo asks with a polite smile, her tone genuinely curious. The other girls perk up, awaiting your response.

You force another smile, the tension in your shoulders betraying your discomfort. This is your chance. You quickly forget that just minutes ago you were mentally denying any need for friendship.

You traveled all over Europe, met cool heroes, you even picked up little gifts for everyone, trained with new techniques—

But instead, you hear yourself say, “It was fine.”

An awkward silence follows, and you feel the weight of their expectant stares. Ask them how their summer was. You could save this moment, turn it into something meaningful.

“I’m going to go to my room… I’ll see you all in class,” you mutter, stepping back into the elevator before they can respond. The doors slide shut, and you lean against the wall, exhaling sharply.

The thud of your forehead hitting the metal wall echoes through the empty elevator, the sting barely registering against the flood of embarrassment and nerves coursing through your veins.

You let out a soft groan, eyes squeezed shut as you replay the interaction in your head. Why are you like this? You have stories to tell, gifts to give—hell, you even went out of your way to pick up souvenirs for everyone.

The sparkly eye shimmers you bought for Mina in France, the cool music theory books for Jirou in Germany, the pretty pink dress for Ochako in Italy, and the rare fragrance you found for Momo in Spain—all tucked neatly in your suitcase, now practically wallowing in defeat alongside you.

God, you’re such a loser.

You barely have time to stew in your self-loathing before the elevator doors jerk open slightly, blocked by a muscular arm. Your eyes widen in alarm as Eijiro Kirishima and Bakugo Katsuki shove their way inside, sweaty, hulking, and taking up way too much space for the tiny elevator.

You instinctively flatten yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Kirishima flashes you a warm grin, entirely unfazed by the tight quarters. “Y/N, hey! Sorry about us. We were just working out. Finally moving in? I think you might be the last one of us to show up.”

Us, as if you were part of them. It’s stupid how your heart skips a beat at the thought.

You force a sheepish smile, nodding. “Ah, no worries. Yeah, just getting settled.”

You try not to look at Bakugo, who hasn’t even glanced your way. He’s standing there in the thinnest, tightest tank top known to mankind, broad shoulders stretching the fabric as if it were struggling to keep up. His arms, toned and defined, catch the dim elevator light just right, and his small waist is framed so perfectly that you have to fight the urge to let your eyes linger. You flick your gaze upward again, heat creeping up your neck as you silently scream at yourself.

You wouldn’t say you have a crush on Bakugo—crush is too strong a word. But god, you love looking at him.

He’s gorgeous in the most aggravating way, and he doesn’t even seem to realize it!

That ashy blonde hair, always spiked up in every direction, looks like it would feel rough to the touch, but you’ve seen him push it back with his hero mask before, revealing the softer strands underneath.

Sharp red eyes framed by the longest lashes you’ve ever seen—seriously, why do guys always have such nice lashes?—perfect skin, a nose that could belong to a sculpture, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. You could go on and on…

But it’s not a crush. Definitely not.

The guy barely knows you exist, and frankly, his temper is reason enough to keep your distance. You’ve heard the way he barks at people—sharp, commanding, intimidating. He’d probably find you annoying within seconds if you ever managed to get more than a polite nod out of him.

No, it’s better this way: admiring from afar, safe in the knowledge that you’ll never have to deal with his wrath firsthand.

The elevator continues its smooth ascent toward the dorm floors. The faint scent of caramel wafts through the small space, and you catch yourself wondering how the hell Bakugo manages to smell that good after a workout.

It should smell like sweat and exhaustion in here, with two guys practically dripping beside you, but instead, there’s this oddly comforting warmth in the air, sweet yet sharp—like burnt sugar. It lingers just enough to make you dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s the scent or your own embarrassment that's doing it.

You press yourself harder against the wall, praying for the elevator to reach your floor faster. God, this is torture.

The ding of the elevator cuts through the silence, and the doors slide open. Kirishima gives you one last friendly smile as he steps out. “Well, see you in class, Y/N!”

You lift a limp hand in a pathetic little wave, heart sinking slightly when you realize Bakugo didn’t even spare you a glance the entire time. You watch them walk off down the hallway and into their neighboring rooms, Kirishima’s easygoing energy in stark contrast to Bakugo’s usual sharp presence.

The doors close again, and you let out a long breath, pressing a hand against your racing heart as the elevator raises to the fifth and final floor, where your room is located.

Great. Just great. One more year of this. You try to convince yourself it doesn’t matter, but the tightening in your chest says otherwise.

⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖°⋆˚✿˖

[insomniac4000]

Light in the Dark-ChrisMD

Chris's usually confident big achiever girlfriend starts to spiral down. Chris is there.

Depression symptoms throughout- this is a little self indulgent as my head space is not good right now.

Y/N had built her life on movement. Planes, trains, boats—if it could take her somewhere new, she’d been on it. She was the girl who trekked through the Amazon on her gap year, bungee-jumped off bridges in New Zealand, and hiked through Patagonia, camera in hand, breathless with laughter. Even her work was related to travel, she started off as cabin crew before spending a year in China teaching English as a second language. Soon the age of twenty five came and while she was still young there was a part of her that yearned to have a base so she was off to London but still, as a sales representative for a big international company she still got to do what she loved. Those who knew her always called her strong, life was filled with exciting moments and adventure, she loved a challenge, and she was a joy. Everyone however had their secrets.

But now, she sat on her couch, staring at the blank screen in front of her.

Her laptop screen dimmed from inactivity, and she made no move to wake it. The words wouldn’t come. The ideas that used to flow so effortlessly had dried up, leaving her empty. The presentation usually came quickly, formatting was a breeze, never boring she always lived her breathed the topics she spoke about now there was only pure emptiness. She should have responded to her emails, planned her next meeting, wrote something, anything. Instead, her phone sat face-down on the table, vibrating occasionally with messages she couldn’t bring herself to read no one was meant to see her like this.

She closed her eyes and exhaled. The air felt heavy, like breathing in water.

Y/N stood on the rooftop of a hotel in Tokyo, wind whipping her auburn curls around her face. She grinned into the camera, holding it at arm’s length.

“So they want to open the account immediately, I’ve already drafted the initial paperwork but I will send it over to you to check?” Y/N said to her boss, it was only a month ago, this account was huge and she was so excited to get it.

“What would I do without you?”

Well right now he was going to have to try as, she couldn’t even imagine even opening her mouth to speak.

Y/N pushed back the meeting schedule. Just a week, she told herself. She needed more time to get the details right.

Then another week. Then another.

Her friends noticed first, well actually it was Chris’s friends, which seemed to cement her idea that her friends didn’t care. They did, they just assumed she was away again.

“You okay,?” George asked over voice chat. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, just busy,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound light.

Will chimed in. “You ghosting us, or what?”

She laughed. “Of course not. Just catching up on work.”

Lies. The presentation still sat untouched. The pressure built in her chest like a weight pressing down, harder and harder, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t write. Couldn’t sell. Couldn’t be the person they all expected.

She was failing.

She stopped replying to messages. Stopped picking up FaceTime calls.

Even Chris, who she talked to nearly every day, got nothing but short replies.

Chris: Are you free for lunch? Y/N: Busy. Chris: Everything okay? Y/N: Fine.

She wasn’t fine. But what was she supposed to say? That she felt like a fraud? That every achievement, every milestone, every person she signed up to the company, none of it felt real anymore?

That she wasn’t sure if she even deserved any of it?

So she stopped talking.

Chris showed up at her door.

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the screen as his name flashed under the doorbell camera. He knocked again, then texted: I know you’re in there.

She should have ignored it. Should have let him walk away.

Instead, she opened the door.

Chris frowned the moment he saw her. “Y/N.”

She knew what he was seeing. The unwashed hoodie she’d been living in. The dark circles under her eyes. The exhaustion etched into her face.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you eaten today?”

She hesitated. His expression softened. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer, just stepped aside.

Chris entered without another word, moving to the kitchen like he belonged there. He opened the fridge, frowned at its near-empty shelves, then started making tea.

Y/N sat at the table, staring at the grain of the wood.

Finally, Chris placed a mug in front of her and sat across from her. He didn’t ask anything. Didn’t push. Just sat there.

She should have said something. Maybe thanked him. Maybe lied and said she was okay.

Instead, she wrapped her hands around the mug and whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Chris didn’t react right away. He let the words settle, like he knew how hard they were to say.

Then he spoke, quiet and steady. “Nothing’s wrong with you, my darling.”

She huffed a humourless laugh. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

Chris leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You know I am here for you.”

Y/N didn’t get better overnight.

She still struggled to open her laptop. Still flinched when a message came through. Some days, getting out of bed felt impossible.

But Chris stayed.

He didn’t push her to work. Didn’t tell her to "snap out of it" or "just be positive." Instead, he showed up.

He brought her food when she forgot to eat. Watched movies with her in comfortable silence. Walked with her when the walls of her flat felt too small.

When she broke down one night, confessing that she felt like she was failing everyone, her audience, her clients, most of all him he just held her, murmuring, “You’re not failing anyone. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

She still didn’t believe it. Not entirely. But for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel completely alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now. But that small glimmer of hope faded, she dropped and she couldn’t feel herself slipping. All Chris knew was that he had the next ready to catch her.

Y/N didn’t remember the exact moment when the sadness became unbearable.

It wasn’t one big event. It was everything the exhaustion, the pressure, the relentless voice in her head telling her she was a failure. It built and built until one night, it broke her.

She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, knees drawn to her chest, her hands gripping her own arms so tightly they ached. The room was dark except for the glow of her phone screen, which was filled with missed messages. Her breathing was uneven, her chest tight.

Then, without warning, she started to cry.

Not quiet tears. Not the kind of crying that could be wiped away and ignored. This was the kind that stole her breath, made her body shake, made her feel like she was drowning.

Chris found her like that.

She barely registered the sound of her front door opening. He had a key now; she wasn’t even sure when she’d given it to him, but he used it without hesitation.

She flinched when he crouched in front of her, his voice low and gentle. “Y/N.”

She shook her head, gripping her arms tighter. “I can’t—Chris, I can’t—”

Her throat burned, her words coming out in sobs. Chris didn’t say anything else. He just sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.

She let herself fall into him, burying her face against his chest. His hoodie smelled like rain and something warm, something safe.

“I’m here,” he murmured.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.

The next wave wasn’t sadness, it was anger.

Y/N had always prided herself on her independence. She was the one who figured things out, who got things done. Now, she could barely respond to an email, let alone film a video.

One morning, Chris came over to find her sitting on the couch, staring at her laptop with an untouched cup of tea beside her.

“Any luck?” he asked, careful.

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Chris hesitated. “Want to take a break? Go for a walk?”

Something inside her snapped.

“A walk isn’t going to fix this, Chris!” she snapped, slamming the laptop shut. “Nothing is going to fix this!”

Chris didn’t flinch. He didn’t leave. He just watched her, his expression unreadable.

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m not trying to fix it.”

His calmness made her even angrier.

“Then what are you doing here?” she demanded. “You’re wasting your time! I’m useless right now. I can’t do anything. I don’t even know why I—”

Her voice cracked. The rage crumbled beneath the weight of exhaustion, of frustration, of shame.

Chris exhaled and sat on the couch beside her, close but not touching.

“You’re not useless,” he said. “You’re struggling. That’s not the same thing.”

She looked away. “It feels the same.”

Chris didn’t argue. He just reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

She wanted to pull away. But she didn’t.

Some days, Y/N felt nothing.

No sadness, no anger, just an empty, hollow void. She’d wake up, stare at the ceiling for an hour, then drag herself to the couch and stay there.

Chris noticed.

One evening, he sat beside her, stretching out his legs. “Wanna watch something?”

She shrugged.

He put on a random episode of The Inbetweeners. It played. She barely watched.

But he stayed.

Another day, he brought her favourite food. She picked at it but barely ate.

He didn’t push.

She didn’t understand how he had the patience. Anyone else would have given up by now.

But not Chris. He knew what it was like, he knew what it felt like to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, it happened to him so much his brain wouldn’t switch off either, his brain constantly told him something bad was going to happen to him. He knew what had helped him but he also knew his love wasn’t in the position to hear it right now, the last thing he wanted to do was to push her away so he waited for the right moment, however long it was going to take.

One night, as they lay in silence, she whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”

Chris turned his head, looking at her in the dim light. “Do what?”

“Sit here. Deal with this.”

His brows furrowed. “You’re not something to be ‘dealt with,’ Y/N.”

She exhaled sharply, looking away. “I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, in a voice so soft it almost broke her:

“I don’t care about fun. I care about you.”

Her throat tightened.

She wanted to believe him.

The change didn’t come all at once. There was no defining moment where she suddenly felt okay. It was gradual. Painfully slow.

It started with one morning where she got out of bed before noon.

Then a day where she managed to shower without feeling like it took all of her energy.

Then a moment where she caught herself smiling really smiling at something Chris said.

She still had bad days. Days where the weight in her chest returned, where she felt like she was slipping back down. But they weren’t every day anymore.

Chris noticed before she did.

“You’ve been humming,” he pointed out one afternoon.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You used to hum when you were working. You haven’t done it in weeks.”

She hadn’t realized.

Chris nudged her foot with his. “Feels like a good sign.”

Maybe it was.

One night, she sat with Chris in the kitchen, their tea mugs between them. She hesitated, then said, “I think I want to start working again. Just a couple of hours a day maybe, catch up on some lost paperwork.”

Chris didn’t react with excitement. He just nodded, as if he’d known this moment would come. “Do you want me to sit with you while you do?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Chris smiled, squeezing her hand. “Alright.”

For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of something.

Not joy, not yet.

But something close.

Hope.

[justwinginglife]

Could you please tell what happens in the hoshina episode? I don't care about spoilers, I just wanna know what happens

YES ABSOLUTELY OMG! It would be my pleasure 😂 for anyone else reading this, if you don’t want spoilers, keep scrolling. And for anyone else who watched it, please feel free to chime in with what I missed cuz my memory is horrible.

So basically it starts off with most of the main cast getting the day off at the same time. Ichikawa finds himself accidentally training and he’s like omg why am I training on my day off? So then Hoshina starts cracking up cuz he’s like omg you really don’t know how to have a day off, do you? I’ll show you how to party one of these days. Then he says he has plans though and walks away mysteriously.

Iharu and Ichikawa start making bets on what the Vice Captain is doing on his day off, Iharu thinks it has something to do with a lady and Ichikawa disagrees. So of course they decide to trail him on his day off.

First- Hoshina goes to the supermarket to get Ashiro a rare snack. Then he runs into Shinomiya and her friends waiting for a ride and he volunteers to drive them to their restaurant. After that, he runs into Aoi and Haruichi debating things for a camping trip and gives them advice on buying things for sale. He is also seen petting cats, and helping an old lady cross the street. All the while, Iharu and Ichikawa are following him still.

Then they see him in a parking lot, secretively handing off suitcases to a suspicious looking man and by then, the whole gang (Shinomiya and the girls, Aoi, and Haruichi) has all gathered to figure out what Hoshina was doing in the parking lot. While they’re arguing, Hoshina disappears.

They panic because they can’t find him.

Eventually he appears behind them and says with a devious look on his face something along the lines of “Well now that you saw the exchange you’re in this too.” So he takes them with him.

Turns out he was giving away his old suits and swords to a museum where kids can play and learn about the defense force, and since the gang was all butting into his business, Hoshina makes them play with all the kids too. And trust me, Hoshina playing with kids was fucking ADORABLE.

Anyway, eventually a Kaiju attacks nearby and the kids are crying and freaking out and Hoshina comforts him like the perfect man that he is and he sets off to go take care of the Kaiju.

The gang tease him for being a workaholic cuz he had his suit underneath his clothes, but they all go with him to take on the Kaiju.

I think that’s pretty much the whole thing summed up quickly! But yeah, I very much enjoyed it. Hoshina is basically ridiculously wholesome and adorable the entire time.

[georgemaries]

What is similar to salesforce training days?

Introduction

Salesforce Training Days are renowned for their immersive and interactive training experiences. Whether you are just starting out or looking to upskill, these training days offer hands-on guidance on Salesforce concepts and best practices. But what if you are looking for similar training opportunities that deliver equal value?

In this article, we will explore the best alternatives to Salesforce Training Days, focusing on comprehensive Salesforce training classes that provide the same depth of knowledge and hands-on experience. We’ll also highlight how you can access these Salesforce classes online and make the most out of your learning journey.

Why Do You Need Salesforce Training?

Salesforce is one of the most powerful Customer Relationship Management (CRM) platforms available today. Mastering its tools and features can significantly boost your career prospects. Whether you aspire to be a Salesforce Administrator, Developer, or Consultant, acquiring practical knowledge is essential.

Training programs not only help you gain in-depth understanding but also prepare you for certification exams. From configuring apps to automating processes, practical training makes you industry-ready. That’s why many learners actively seek out Salesforce online courses that provide hands-on practice, expert guidance, and real-world scenarios.

Similar Options to Salesforce Training Days

While Salesforce Training Days are highly popular, there are several alternatives that deliver equally engaging and practical training experiences. Let’s dive into the most effective training for Salesforce that resembles the immersive learning of Training Days.

1. Hands-On Salesforce Classes Online

One of the most popular ways to gain Salesforce skills is through online training classes. These classes are designed to offer flexible learning without compromising quality. You get to learn at your own pace while still receiving interactive sessions and guidance from certified trainers.

Features of Online Salesforce Classes:

Live instructor-led sessions

Real-time projects and case studies

Comprehensive curriculum covering Administration, Development, and more

Flexible scheduling to accommodate working professionals

Real-World Example:

Take, for instance, the comprehensive Salesforce training offered by H2K Infosys. The platform provides live classes conducted by expert instructors with hands-on projects, which mirror real-world scenarios. This practical approach ensures that learners not only understand concepts but also know how to implement them effectively.

2. Self-Paced Salesforce Online Courses

For those who prefer self-learning, self-paced courses are a viable option. These courses allow learners to study whenever it suits them without being tied to a specific schedule.

Advantages of Self-Paced Learning:

Learn at your convenience

Revisit topics as needed

Access to pre-recorded sessions and course materials

Affordable pricing and lifetime access

Self-paced online courses often include video tutorials, quizzes, assignments, and downloadable resources. This makes it an excellent choice for professionals juggling multiple commitments.

3. Certification-Focused Salesforce Training

If your goal is to get certified, consider enrolling in Salesforce classes online that are specifically designed to help you pass the certification exams. These classes often focus on exam-oriented content, practical labs, and mock tests to help you build confidence.

Key Features:

Mock exams and practice questions

Exam-oriented syllabus

Practical exercises related to exam objectives

Personalized feedback from instructors

Again, H2K Infosys offers a robust curriculum that aligns well with certification requirements. Their structured approach ensures you are well-prepared to take on the certification exams.

4. Community and Peer Learning

A great way to enhance your skills is to participate in community learning or join peer groups. Online communities often hold webinars, group discussions, and Q&A sessions that can help you gain insights from experienced professionals.

Benefits of Community Learning:

Access to expert advice and peer support

Practical knowledge through shared experiences

Opportunity to work on group projects

Communities such as LinkedIn groups and Salesforce-specific forums can be invaluable for continuous learning and professional networking.

Key Takeaways

Alternatives to Salesforce Training Days include live online classes, self-paced courses, certification-focused training, and community learning.

Online classes offer interactive, hands-on learning that mirrors the Training Day experience.

Self-paced courses give flexibility while retaining comprehensive content.

Certification-oriented classes prepare you specifically for exams and real-world challenges.

Community learning fosters collaboration and real-world knowledge sharing.

Conclusion

Investing in Salesforce training classes is a strategic move for any professional looking to advance their career. Whether you opt for live Salesforce classes online or a self-paced Salesforce online course, the key is to choose a platform that aligns with your learning style and career goals. H2K Infosys offers an exceptional blend of live training, real-world projects, and exam preparation, making it a top choice among learners.

Get started with your Salesforce learning journey today and elevate your career to new heights!

[britney-rosberg06]

guys can i be real for a second? Because as a fan of both Logan and Kimi i feel like this needs to be said:

Nobody benefits from giving Logan Kimi’s seat mid year.

No One

No not even Kimi.

If F1 is a business which it is, we’ll think about this in a business sense. Because by kicking Logan out in favor of Kimi just doesn’t make sense

Williams saw the sheer backlash to Australia. Their fans were angry at the mere idea of kicking Logan out in favor of Alex and some are still angry. They would lose a huge portion of their fan base (a fan base that is getting pretty American, may I add, thanks to their American sponsors) by kicking Logan out. No fanbase means no merch sales, no extra cash to burn that we know Williams needs

Secondly, Logan has obligations with Williams through summer break. Huge PR events like Lap of Legends which is sponsored by an American beer and stars Logan and Williams Racing ambassador Jenson Button. If you pull away Logan, the sponsors in Michelob Ultra will be furious as they funded a whole project to center around Logan. And Jenson, who has also spoken very kindly about him in the media will be angry as Logan is known as someone who has his backing/support. So Williams would lose a bit of Jenson’s trust and anger a huge sponsor? Right okay,

Of course there’s James Vowles. Who is struggling to come out from under Toto Wolff’s shadow. How will it look for James if he were to kick out one of his own juniors in favor of someone Toto Wolff is forcing upon him. Like he’s a lapdog who will roll over and do whatever Toto wants? Yeah, that exactly

There’s also the Prema of it all, which a lot of people are forgetting. Kimi is under Prema contract to be racing in F2. There is no reservist for him and there has to be to drivers in F2. Not one. Prema is not going to let one of their drivers—a driver who is getting them a lot of media attention might I add—go on to F1 when he’s only done three f2 races. That’s not how contracts work! Kimi is on contract and that contract states he had to race in f2 and compete in the championship. The whole championship. The championship Prema gets more money/funding/sponsors from the better they do. They can’t do good with only one driver. So no extra money.

Also, Prema has the power to deny Williams as Kimi is their driver and their responsibility. Kimi uses their trainers, engineers, gym, facilities etc, to take him mid season might make Williams or Mercedes or Kimi himself liable for that bill à là Oscar Piastri and Alpine as Kimi failed to fulfill terms of a contract while still benefiting from it.

I’m not saying it’ll work but I’m saying there’s a chance they could.

Now Kimi himself. He’d be entering in the F1 paddock as a pariah. Being granted an exception is sure to make him unpopular, just like Max was. The spotlight that was on Ollie Bearman in Jeddah? Yeah multiply it by a hundred and you’ll get somewhere close to the attention on Kimi. As previously established, PR-wise Williams would be in hell, who do you think they are going to take it out on? Yeah, the seventeen year old who has no control over the situation. He’ll be traipsed around as the new youngest whoever while also being hated on by a majority of people who think he doesn’t deserve that seat.

Speaking of Ollie Bearman. It’s worth noting that Ollie’s pain level after Jeddah was sky high. He was training for f2 races, not f1. Consistently racing in F1 could wreck Kimi’s body due to the sudden change and would have so many negative and lasting affects.

And when he inevitably doesn’t get points on debut because it’s a williams and it sucks ass, everyone will be screaming and crying about how Kimi is washed or how he sucks and so on and so on. What would that do to a seventeen year old’s confidence?

And when Toto wolff—the only guy presumed to benefit at all from this whole situation he allegedly cooked up gets reveals to have had a huge part in this kid’s life, way bigger than the general audience knows (seriously, he has a picture of baby Kimi in his office) everyone is going to be screaming at him for making a bad/questionable managerial decision that has deeply affected the mental health of a teen boy.

Mercedes as a team is already on the decline, this would be the Shitty PR move to end all Shitty PR moves.

Am i saying Logan is going to be on the grid next year? No. But the idea that it is a smart decision for any of the teams or drivers involved to replace Logan is insane.

[bridgyrose]

This time, I have an idea for a prompt that is closer to canon than usual (but still fully an AU).

Basically, it's the Vol 7 Penny reunion scene but in a Pyrrha Lives AU.

(You should know me by now but... a finger on the monkey paw curls)

“Penny.” 

The name quietly left Pyrrha’s lips as she stared up at Penny floating above them. Her heart raced and her grip tightened on her weapon as she waited for the android to move. She could still hear the way the metal had crunched and twisted back in the tournament. There wasnt a day that went by that she didnt wish she could redo everything. Hold back with her semblance, pick up on the fact that Penny was an android… anything that would’ve made that fight… better.

She watched as Penny slowly lowered herself from the air and onto the ground, her own body shook as she put her weapon away. The way Penny’s eyes glowed in the shadow of Atlas felt like they were piercing into her soul. She braced herself when Penny started to take a few steps forward towards her, ready for whatever anger was about to come her way. It was only fair. She had killed Penny once and she was sure she was still hated for it. 

Instead, Pyrrha felt Penny embrace her, almost squeezing her with all her strength. 

“You are all here!” Penny half yelled out in excitement. “When I was rebuilt and told Beacon had fallen, I had feared the worst about all of you.” 

“You’re… not mad at me?” Pyrrha asked, too shocked to move. “I killed you-” 

“But you did not damage my core, so I was able to be rebuilt.” Penny let Pyrrha go and gave her a smile. “What happened was an accident. It was not your fault.” 

Pyrrha nodded, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. For months she had blamed herself for Penny’s death, but hearing Penny forgive her… it felt as if all of that was being washed away. “Thank you.” 

“Not to interrupt, but Penny, why does Atlas look ready for an attack?” Weiss asked. “What happened after I left?” 

“After Beacon fell, Atlas was blamed for everything.” Penny looked up at the blockaded, her voice going quiet. “General Ironwood set up the blockade when he started to restrict dust sales coming out of Atlas. He is afraid that Atlas will be attacked next. Either by the other kingdoms or by-” She stopped her train of thought and gave a smile towards the rest of her friends. “But that does not matter. You are all here and safe and we can spend time together again! It will be just like Beacon!” 

“Right, like Beacon again,” Jaune said with a forced smile. “That needs to wait. We need to speak to General Ironwood, do you think you can get us to him?” 

“Of course!” Penny paused when she noticed a familiar red cloak on Weiss’s shoulders. She looked around at everyone, her smile dropping. “Where’s Ruby?” 

Yang and Weiss looked at each other as if there was an unspoken agreement about talking about Ruby. Blake put her hand on Yang's shoulder to comfort her while Ren, Nora, Jaune, and Qrow all tried to hide the pain Ruby’s name brought to them. Pyrrha could feel a few more tears run down her cheeks before she finally spoke, her words quiet and slow. 

“Ruby’s… gone.” 

Penny blinked. “I… I do not understand. What do you mean she is gone?” 

“After you… died… Beacon was overrun with grimm.” Pyrrha looked at the brace around her ankle, her voice shaking as she continued. “While everyone was helping others evacuate and dealing with the grimm and the Atlas Soldiers that turned on us, I ended up fighting Cinder at the Beacon tower. She had struck my ankle with an arrow and had me dead to rights as she readied her next one. I threw my shield at her, she let go of the arrow and then… next thing I remember was Ruby in front of me with an arrow in her chest. Her eyes were… flickering… with this light as she gasped for breath while rose petals continued to swirl around us. I tried to save her, but Cinder pushed me back. She placed a hand on Ruby’s chest and then she… she…” 

Pyrrha couldnt seem to get the words out no matter how much she wanted to try. The image of Ruby turning into ash just as a bright, silver light left her eyes was seared into mind. She wiped away her tears as she felt Jaune’s hand on her shoulder and took a breath to compose herself. “I’m sorry, Penny.” 

Penny gave a slow nod until her scroll started to ping. “There is more grimm in sector 7. I need to go take care of it.” 

“We can help-” 

“I need to take care of it alone. I will take you to Ironwood after I get back.” 

Pyrrha took a deep breath as she watched Penny take off and dart through the sky. 

“I’m sure she just needs time to process this,” Nora said as she walked over to Pyrrha. “You know how close she was to Ruby.” 

Pyrrha nodded. “I know. I just hope she’s willing to work with us now that she knows.” 

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Oh god, I was just giggling so hard at howdy anons ask and your reply about reader letting König wait (sending a smooch to you both ❤️😘). He really deserves to suffer a little like that lol! Just imagining this guy, who likes to see himself as so strong and dominant, especially towards woman, slowly but surely lose his fucking marbles... And all because of that sweet little lady, who has his horniness in a bloody choke hold - not even realising the power she has over him. He's never had to show this much restraint... And he does hold back because, he even more likes to see himself as a gentlemen towards his sweetie (one who will absolutely ruin and wreck her once she let's him off his leash and takes the muzzle off). Poor little Köni.

I can see him letting out this sexual frustration at training for example. He is working these punching bags like absolutely batshit crazy. Destroying gym equipment, because he goes in so hard and has just soooo much pent up energy after every little cuddling session with sweet reader and doesn't know what to do with hit (violently masturbating after being with her hardly helps...). The other operators at the base gym just side eying him and wondering, if he now reached the final state of madness and silently prepare for the explosion that will wipe out all life on earth...

Also: we are really branching out with the toxic König brand here. First the institute, now the book club. I'm loving the growth here. Maby we can establish some kind of co working space next at toxic König headquarters, so we all have a place where we can thirst efficiently and just pump these numbers up even more for Toxic König Inc. (TKI). I can see an involvement in the stock market by next quarter at this growth rate. Maby some Tupperware-esk door to door sales to get more people hooked on to toxic König? (ok, that sounds to much like a cult now...)

Haha this is so crazy, all I wanted was to make Ghost happy, get him laid, perhaps even get him married… but here I am, 6 months later, having this blog and wondering which content warnings to slap on another König post where we discuss his obsession with virgins and their mythical hymen blood 💕

He destroys the punching bag (RIP) and somehow manages to rip the pull up bar from the concrete wall. His deadlifts can be heard all the way to the mess – envious rookies would say König is doing it wrong, that it's a major error in execution, but the veterans know better... This crazy lunatic is simply having trouble with women (again).

But you know what would make König nearly faint?

When sweet innocent reader finally allows his hands roam a bit!

He's allowed to caress her waist as they cuddle, she even lets him bring his huge palm on her tits – it feels like the most erotic thing ever, just to paw those soft breasts over her shirt. And what happens next is that she rolls her hips – König holds his breath – she's actually pressing her ass against his cock. Of course they're still wearing clothes, but her movements are nothing short of sexual.

It makes his brain shut down completely, but soon he's panting in her ear, grinding his groin against the swell of her ass in rhythm with her movements. She doesn't stop him when his hand slowly, tentatively shifts down, then forces its way under the waistband of her pants – ach du Scheiße, it's finally happening… Can this be real?

His fingers slip under her underwear and arrive on her soft mound. He tries to shove his hand further down and into her folds but then – Scheiße – delicate fingers curl around his wrist and pick his hand up from paradise.

"Please… I'm just not ready yet," she explains gently, and the German curses in his mind are loud and foul as König tries to catch his breath and ignore the fact that his boxers are painfully tight and now stained and wet with precum.

"Let me lick your cunt," he offers with a hoarse voice while she's still holding him by the wrist, denying access to her. "Bitte... I just want to have a taste..."

Sweet reader goes tense and turns, looks at the soldier who has a funny accent and weird mannerisms, the soldier who was supposed to be a gentleman, with parted lips and eyes wide from shock.

"König, you can't say things like that…!"

[acknowledge-reigns]

Hot take:

There's a LARGE amount of wrestling fans that actually do not understand professional wrestling at all.

"______ is good in the ring" or "_____ is an amazing athlete" is not enough to make them top of the industry because professional wrestling is not just a sport. It's sports entertainment. A performance art and it's a business. There are many pieces that go into being an amazing professional wrestler and to be top of the line you have to be the total package (insert lex luger joke here, ya marks).

People I consider as such are men like Roman Reigns, Bray Wyatt, John Cena, The Rock, The Undertaker, Randy Orton, Seth Rollins, The Usos, Jacob Fatu, Drew McIntyre and as of late Dominik Mysterio and CM Punk. Women like AJ Lee, The Bella Twins, Becky Lynch, Rhea Ripley, Bianca Belair and Naomi to name a handful. There are also many many more so don't cuss me out for not naming your faves. Lmao.

These are all around superstars.

What do I mean by all around superstar? I mean they're A++

- In Ring

- On the Mic

- Storytelling

- Innovation. Can this particular superstar do something we've never seen before? And leave the industry better than they found it?

- Has the "look" (Could this guy/gal/human be a kid's hero or supervillain?)

- Drawing Power. Do people come to see them specifically?

- How much money are they generating for the product? In ticket sales, merch etc.

- Can they build are true and genuine connection with fans?

- Do they have the industry's best interest at heart? Ie. Supporting other talent, making sacrifices etc.

A good professional wrestling isn't JUST "Oh xyz can hit a killer poisonrana!"

(Cool as all that shit is!)

Certain fans get heavily focused on moveset and that's all they care about, however what they don't realize is this isn't amateur wrestling. This isn't exclusively about "real graps" or whatever. Are their wrestlers that do that? Yes. Of course. But that's their style. Not everyone is a technical wrestler. You don't have to like it of course but it's fact.

There are so many different styles of wrestling that vary person by person and culture by culture. You can't force someone who exclusively performs lucha libre to perform strong style and say that they can't wrestle when they don't do it. Imagine telling a professionally trained Pianist you'd much rather hear Guitar and proceeding to get pissed that the Pianist cannot play said guitar and starting a whole smear campaigne about how the pianist isn't a real musician because of it all while you can't even play the fucking spoons. Bffr.

Wrestling is an art form. An art form that is all inclusive and has been around for ages. I might not prefer the style you do or vice versa however in my personal opinion a professional wrestling fan who actually knows what they're watching knows there are layers to this for a reason and can appreciate the many different shades and aspects of it. It's like listening to music but only caring about the singers voice. Completely disregarding the songwriting, instruments, production, album cover etc. In doing that you're not even truly appreciating the product.

Ps. None of these gifs are mine. Credit to whoever created them. Just using them for dramatic and comedic effect.

Do NOT come at me bitching about my opinions because you feel some kind of way about my timing in posting this Mr. Ring G*neral isn't the only one that is lacking, this is a general thing about multiple people and not just cause Jey lost, so G*nther shooters, don't take this personal. Or do. Just block me instead of starting shit. I try to censor names when I'm discussing my unfavorable opinions of wrestlers so it does not wind up in the tags of people who actually do enjoy said wrestler. Trust me, as a more than decade long Roman diehard I know how annoying that can be.

Anywhoooo, those are my disclaimers. Feel free to chime in as long as it's all respectful dialogue 💖