#advanced dog commands

[cutebarkingcat]

Common dog commands for beginners.

Training your dog with basic commands is essential for building a strong bond and ensuring a well-behaved companion. Here are some common dog commands for beginners that will help you establish effective communication and control over your furry friend: Sit: “Sit” is one of the fundamental commands. It teaches your dog to remain seated until you give them permission to move. Hold a treat close…

[nochd]

This was on @whatareyoureallyafraidof's post where they put up this:

And I responded with this image:

and promised in the tags to elaborate if asked. And, @frodo-the-weeb, I will. But it's going to get long and I'm going to have to split it up into several reblogs.

First of all, since not everybody in the world is a Silmarillion enthusiast, let me explain what we're referring to.

One of the stories in the Silmarillion, and possibly the one Tolkien cared about the most, is the tale of Lúthien and Beren; a highly condensed version of a narrative poem called the Lay of Leithian, which Tolkien began writing in the 1930s and tried to get his publisher interested in after the success of The Hobbit.

(Their readers said no, and they tactfully asked him to focus on his Hobbit sequel instead. "The result," in Tolkien's own words, "was The Lord of the Rings.")

The skeleton of The Lay of Leithian is as follows; I'm intentionally leaving out a bunch of information that weaves it into the overarching story of the Silmarillion but isn't relevant to the thesis I'm advancing here.

Lúthien, an Elven princess and enchantress, falls in love with a mortal man, a ranger called Beren. Her father, the Elven King Thingol, disapproves and sends him Beren off to fetch one of the jewels from the crown of the Dark Lord Morgoth. Lúthien tries to join Beren but her father imprisons her in a tower to stop her, only it's actually a treehouse because they're forest elves. Lúthien magically grows her hair long and uses it to escape. By the time she catches up with Beren he is chained in the dungeons of Morgoth's second-in-command, Thû (whom Tolkien later renamed Sauron). She rescues him with the help only of a dog, who defeats Thû himself in single combat. They then live in the forest together for quite some time, but Beren feels bad about being the reason she can't go home to her family, and still intends to finish his mission and get the jewel. He leaves one morning while she's still asleep, so as not to put her in danger, and then when he's on the threshold of Morgoth's underground fortress in the far North of Middle-Earth she catches up with him again and he accepts that she's not going to be put off. Together they enter Morgoth's fortress and make their way to his throne room. They are in disguise but Morgoth is not fooled and uncovers Lúthien in front of everyone, declaring his intention to make her one of his many slaves. Lúthien offers to sing and dance for him, which is the way she works her magic. She puts everyone in the throne room to sleep, including both Beren and eventually Morgoth. She wakes Beren and he takes the jewel and they flee, but as they get to the outer door they are stopped by Morgoth's guard-wolf, who bites off Beren's hand holding the jewel.

That's as far as Tolkien ever got with the poem, but we have the synopsis in the prose Silmarillion to tell us the rest of the story; again cutting it down to the quick, Thingol accepts Beren as his son-in-law, Morgoth's guard-wolf attacks Doriath, Beren goes and hunts it but is mortally wounded, his spirit goes to the Halls of Waiting in the Undying Lands where the dead in Middle-Earth go, Lúthien also goes there and, again through her magical song, persuades Mandos the god of the dead to let him come back. Mandos offers her a choice: live on immortally as an Elf without Beren, or return to Middle-Earth with Beren but both of them will grow old and die. She chooses the latter.

Tolkien created Lúthien as a portrait of his wife Edith, which makes Beren a picture of himself. We know this for a fact because he had LUTHIEN written on her grave when she died, and when he joined her in it two years later the name BEREN was written for him:

Now on the lower right side of my response image you'll see Pauline Baynes' illustration of the Lady in the Green Kirtle from The Silver Chair, one of C. S. Lewis's Narnia stories. A quick synopsis of the Lady of the Green Kirtle's part in the story:

The Lady is a witch who rules a gloomy kingdom underneath Narnia, accessible through a fissure in the earth in an old ruined city far to the North. Before the story opens she has enspelled and kidnapped King Caspian's son Prince Rilian, whom she intends to send leading an army to conquer Narnia in her name. For twenty-three hours a day he is her willing slave and lap-dog; to maintain the spell, he must be bound to the titular silver chair for the remaining hour, during which he is sane and aware of his imprisonment. The protagonists, Eustace and Jill and their guide Puddleglum, meet her and Rilian unawares on their journey to the North; she sends them astray and almost succeeds in getting them eaten by giants. Eventually they rescue Rilian from the chair, but she sings a magical song which very nearly puts them all to sleep but for Puddleglum's intervention. Foiled, she transforms into a serpent, attacks them, and they kill her.

It is my contention that the Lady in the Green Kirtle is Lewis's caricature of Lúthien, with the enslaved and befuddled Prince Rilian representing Beren; and further, that Lewis knew or recognised that Lúthien and Beren were a literary portrait of the Tolkiens, so that The Silver Chair is ultimately a nasty commentary on their marriage.

In forthcoming reblogs I will lay out my evidence for this thesis.

[stellamarielu]

did anyone order jack abbot eating it from behind??

jack is typically a soft lover— dominant yet careful. even when he’s rough, there’s still an ounce of gentle deliberation in his actions. but sometimes he’s all pent up from a long week at work, and he gets all needy and impatient.

after days of barely seeing you— his shifts running late, and you having a lot on your plate— he finally has you all to himself. you’re cooking dinner together in his kitchen on your shared day off, and he can barely keep his hands to himself.

he tried his best not to pounce on you the minute you walked into his house, giving you nearly an hour of innocent conversation and sarcastic remarks, only paying a few playful smacks to your ass as you worked together to prep the meal. but as soon as you were leaning over the countertop, attention on the cutting board beneath your fingertips, he wasted no time pulling your body flush against his, his very obvious erection pressing against the flesh of your backside.

he leans in— not even bothering to whisper as he confesses how badly he wants you in the wide open space of his kitchen.

“wanna fuck you right here.” his voice is low and rough as his hands grab harder at your waist.

“could just bend you over the counter while you keep cooking,” you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but jack’s presence behind you is becoming increasingly harder to ignore.

“see how long you can keep your composure until you have to stop because you can’t fucking see straight.” his words have an edge to them— almost threatening.

you weakly try to pry his hands off your hips, but instead your weight melts back into him, the affect of his words making your body betray your mind.

you need to finish cooking; there’s food on the stove, ready to burn if you get too distracted.

“jack…” his name leaves your lips in a quiet warning, meanwhile you’re leaning further into his touch, your body giving into his words of desire.

“we should eat first.” your eyes flutter shut as his hands run up and down your sides. the final attempt to ward off his advances leaves your lips to no avail.

“you’re right.”

he drops to his knees like a dog following a command. pushing up the little sundress you wore just for him, and yanking your panties down. it almost startles you how impulsively he pushes his face into you, his tongue instantly sliding between your folds.

you instinctively raise up on your toes, leaning forward against the counter, and throwing all previous apprehension to the back of your mind as soon as you feel his mouth on your cunt.

his hands grab at your ass, kneading it in his palms and spreading you open, giving him more access to eat.

and eat he does; licking, and sucking, and fucking you with his tongue like he’s desperate for your release. groaning into you when he hears your breathless pants and whines from above.

oh he’ll eat first alright, and this is only the first course.

[bttrflybb]

cw: sub!kakashi, femdom!reader (reader is a cloud ninja and somewhat equal to kakashi's strength), p in v, cowgirl, accidental half-creampie, implied cum eating, not proofread (probably terrible)

sub!kakashi who’s only sexual encounters consist of half-assed one night stands that leave the girl asleep and him unsatisfied- a feeling of emptiness plaguing him the entirety of the night. sub!kakashi who craves being manhandled and fucked rather than having a pretty thing beg for him to hold her down and use her. sub!kakashi who just wants to be a boytoy. sub!kakashi who's been palming himself thinking about the cloud ninja he had been sparring with- her sweet yet aloof attitude, flirty wits, and strength. sub!kakashi who's spilling thinking the look she had on her face after knocking him flat on his back. the way her pupils were blown as she straddled his waist and held the kunai to his throat.

sub!kakashi who’s caught off guard by you murmuring orders like nothing during your first time together. ‘put your arms up’ you’d say in a husky whisper, his body reacting quicker than his brain is. obeying your every command. he’s only known you for a week but he’d do anything for you so long as you asked him in that sultry voice of yours.

you lead him like a dog on a leash, stripping him and dancing your body against his. he doesn’t fight any of your advances, in fact craves more- silent impatient whines mouthed out each time you exert any sort of caution before you make another move.

“more, please.” he huffs. he’s so pretty, desperation decorating his pink-dusted face. sweat beginning to bead and his jaw going increasingly slack- tongue peeking started to spill over his bottom teeth.

such an aloof and confident man cracking beneath you. pitiful is the only word to truly describe the sight.

his body is unreasonably hot. the cold air against his full bobbing cock brings him back to reality for a moment- lost in the picturesque scene of you slipping your panties off each leg just to be dunked back into that lust-drunk state. you’re paying no mind to him, but the firm hand placed upon his chest you’re using to hold yourself up on is an order that he is to stay here, right beneath you.

each touch and word shows your intent. the intent to control- a gentle, considerate, slow control. both of your hands find his pecs as you brace yourself over him, eyes meeting his and softening upwards in a silent, sweet question. no matter how many times kakashi eagerly nodded and hummed in approval, you kept making sure this was a step he wanted to take before you tugged his figurative leash forward. that control beneath all the gentle nudges and whispered commands, that's what got him seeing stars.

“what do you want?” you hummed, tilting your head. your voice was so sweet, like your heat wasn’t inches away from the bell end of his cock. “you.” is all he can say, hands sliding up your forearms and settling back down around your wrists. “me?” your syrupy voice mixed with a savory, dark tone. “how do you want me, kakashi?” the question was stupid, one might think. you were a moment away from taking him if you just sat, but you wanted to hear him say it.

“i… want to feel you. i want…” he pondered. he wanted to fuck you- to be enveloped by your wet heat- but that’s not right.

“want you to fuck me.”

with a smile and whispered praise, your folds part around his tip and you’re swiftly settling around his cock. it’s jarring- the pace at which you take him is stark compared to how slow and teasing you were before. in just a few seconds you're bottomed out and delicately arching at how well he fills you up, and he's keening like you just sunk a knife between his ribs.

"hoh- f-fuckkkk." his hands wring around your wrists, squeezing them as he breathes through the shock like he's been dunked in cold water. the lewd squelch that echoed throughout the room spoke for itself; you were soaked and the poor man beneath you was being drowned.

"oh i'll fuck you, pretty boy."

your pace is grueling- not fast, but so fucking violent. nails rake into his pecs deeper and deeper each time you rise to the tip and let gravity pull your cunt to his pelvis. each forced drive of your g-spot to his tip has you howling, giggles mixing with loud moans. like the way he's subtly trembling and alternating between holding his breath and panting as he holds his seed back is entertainment for you. spoiler, it really is.

the metal in his stomach burns orange as you take him. arousal pulses through his veins each time your flesh meets his. he is wrecked at this point, losing his fight against the pressure building at the base of his cock. silver strands stuck to his forehead as he peers at you from below, onyx half-moons finding you through his pretty white eyelashes.

"has anyone ever told you- hahh- how pretty you are, kakashi?" you cooed between bounces. you're not sure what he's moaning out loud at- your voice, you presume- but your tongue smooths over the front of your teeth as you savor the taste of his noises with a smile. you lean forward and give his cheek a soft experimental pap after shaking his grasp loose from your wrist. "asked you a question, pretty boy."

despite it being so gentle against his skin it's inaudible, kakashi's hips are stuttering upwards and his hands are scrambling to your hips to push you off of him. "g'nna cum- fuck- m' sorry- hoohh, fuck," he mewls, legs flailing like he's trying to run from you. "g'nnacum g'nnacum 'gnnacum-"

the moan that bellows from him vibrates the air around you- so bassy and loud. he's free from your pussy with a pop, but not soon enough, half of his load is dripping out of you and the other half is being milked onto his stomach- strings of cum lining his stomach every other pump. your soft palm and thumb send him way over the line, moans breaking off into pathetic high-pitched whines as he's overstimulated by the pad of your thumb against his tip.

'"my my, kakashi. look at youuu," you teased and pulled a hiss from the man. "s-sorry- fuck- m' sorry," he panted, twitching every other pump as pleasure turned to buzzing pain. you knew not to push your luck, you’ve already got him hooked. no need to keep on toying with him. give him something to crave later.

your palm parts from his spent cock and he releases a breath he’d been holding at the overstimulation, the prickly feeling fading from his tummy. “you like that, huh kakashi?” you chastised him, giving his cheek a couple more light paps and a pinch. “f-fuck- i guess so,” he breathed a laugh, still catching his breath. “i think i’d like anything if it was you doing it.” he confessed. you can’t deny the flutter that starts from your clit and goes all the way up into your chest. “that’s a bold statement, kakashi. watch what you’re getting yourself into.”

“i’m watching, alright. i don’t wanna get out of it.” veeery suave, kakashi. you sighed a laugh and pushed yourself upright, standing on your knees. “are you sure about that?” a hand came down and spread your flaps apart and you dripped.

“oh fuck.” his breath faltered at the realization and you swear his dick twitched too. “you gotta do something about this, you know. gotta make it up to me.” you murmured, getting back on your hands and crawling forwards up the bed as he sighed a ‘uh-huh’. “gotta clean me up, kakashi.” you smirked, scooching until your pussy was hanging over his face. you’re vertical again as you get ready to plop on him, his hands beating you to it as he pulls your hips to his tongue. “yes ma’am.”

[candy69gurl]

INSUBORDINATION

PAIRING Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

SYNOPSIS The reader, a young woman of wealth, is married to Toji and consistently treats him as her servant, much to his dismay. Fed up with her behavior, Toji resolves to teach her a lesson.

WARNING non/con, brat taming, spitting, face fucking, hair pulling, spanking, face slapping, fingering, nipple play, missonary, bondage (hands tied only), cock riding, squirting, doggy style, multiple orgasms, degradation, use of vulgar words (dog, bitch, slut, whore, cum slut), humiliation, raw sex (cumming inside mouth, creampie, face cumming), breeding kink, clit slapping & rubbing, man handling

Marrying this seemingly charming and powerful Toji Fushiguro, you believed it imparted a greater benefit upon him than it did upon yourself. His overwhelming infatuation for you was not reciprocated, and instead, you treated him more as a pet than a partner. As a young, rich woman with an air of superiority, you demanded his obedience and submission, constantly reminding him of his place. You were unaware of the brewing storm inside him, waiting to unleash its fury upon you. Little did you know, the love and adoration he had for you were a ticking time bomb about to go off. The way he was treated drove him insane, pushing him to the brink of insanity, and he couldn't take it anymore.

"Hmm, so.. Toji I would like to talk to you, my dear", your eyes never leaving your nails.

Toji glares at you, his eyes smouldering with rage and lust stored inside him. Despite his inner turmoil, he forces a smile and responds, "My lady, I am here." His voice drips with false sincerity, reflecting the pain within him. It's clear that every moment spent serving you gnaws at his soul, fueling his desire to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Yet, he can't let you sense his true intentions - not yet.

He waits patiently, his muscles tensing beneath his clothes, as he anticipates your command. His heart pounds wildly against his chest, and his mind racing with thoughts of revenge and domination. He knows that he's about to snap anytime.

"I need you to stop wasting my money on gambling", your gaze finally shifts from your nails to Toji, who's standing before you with his head bowed.

A chill runs down Toji's spine as he hears your words. Your demand has cut him deeper than any blade could, igniting a firestorm of emotions within him.

How can he possibly stop himself from doing that? It's his sole means of earning money for himself. And it's not like he constantly relies on your finances for that. But the way you phrased your money, it really struck a nerve and left him feeling utterly humiliated. He understood that you were implying he should beg you for money, but that's something he would never do.

He tries to maintain his composure, swallowing the bitter taste that filled his mouth. With a stiff nod, he replies, "As you wish, my lady. I shall cease all gambling activities and dedicate myself entirely to your needs. But I would like you to stop ordering me around"

"Excuse me? who do you think you are?", one of your eyebrows raised, utterly confused by his sudden back-talk.

Toji's eyes flash with defiance, and his voice take on a dangerous edge, "I am your husband, a man scorned and abandoned. I have given you everything I have, my love, my heart, my trust. Yet, I receive nothing in return. I am sick of being treated like a mere toy. My passion for you burns like a thousand suns, and it is time you recognized my worth!" His face contorts with rage and hurt, his entire body trembling with suppressed power. "Do not mistake my patience for weakness, for I am far from it. One day, you will learn the consequences of disregarding those who truly care for you."

Your countenance remain devoid of emotion as he uttered those words. Instead, you advance towards him, drawing nearer... and nearer... until you stand face-to-face. Despite his height advantage, you are aware of the superiority you hold.

In an instant, your hand delivers a sharp slap to his face, causing his head to jerk to the right. "How dare you talk to me like that?"

Your slap lands across Toji's cheek with a loud smack, jolting him back to reality. His eyes widen, shock etching lines onto his face. For a brief moment, he stand frozen, the sting of your hand burning a trail across his pale skin. Then, without warning, his expression twists into one of pure fury. In a single, fluid motion, he grabs your wrist and pins you on the ground.

"GET OFF ME YOU SICKO", you scream.

Toji snarls, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity. "No, little miss high-and-mighty, I decide when this ends. You've played your games, and now it's time to pay the price," he growls, his grip on your wrist tightening. He leans closer, his hot breath washing over your face as he whispers, "You thought I was weak and submissive, but you sorely underestimated me. I am a man consumed by desire and rage, and I will make you pay for your cruelty."

His other hand moves to fondle with your clothed breasts, "Coming to think of it.. I never touched.. Maybe tonight is the time .. I finally discover your secrets."

"Don't even think of it.. Move your filthy hands off me!!" your legs pushing his chest away from your body.

Toji's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a predatory smile. "Oh, I think I've already discovered your secrets, my dear. You're just as desperate for my touch as I am for yours. You can scream all you want, but no one will come to save you. You're mine, and I will have my way with you."

His grip on your wrist intensifies and he begins to move his hand lower, towards your thigh. "You've pushed me too far, and now it's time for you to learn a lesson you'll never forget. I'll make you beg for my touch, and when I'm done, you'll be mine completely."

"I should have kept a body guard..", your eyes get teary as you start feeling vulnerable. The thing that you hated the most.

Toji's eyes flicker with a hint of victory at your admission. "Yes, perhaps you should have," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "But it's too late now. There's no one coming to save you."

His fingers trail along the edge of your clothing, teasingly close to bare skin. "I plan to make it as painful and pleasurable as possible. You'll come to cherish these moments, begging for more, even as you curse my name."

His eyes gleam with malicious intent as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Every benefit you receive carries a price; for the service I've rendered you over the years, my dear wife, I require my due compensation. I'm not interested in payments via cheque, cash, or phone apps. I seek recompense through your body."

"I will never.. ever.. submit to you .. Toji Fushiguro..", you land kick on his side, attempting to run away from his grasp, yet he remains unaffected. He does grunt as your kick connected with his side, but he doesn't release you. Instead, he smirks, his gaze heated. "You.. Keep struggling, but you're only making this worse for yourself. Give in to me, let me show you the pleasure you've denied yourself for so long."

Slowly, he slides his hand underneath your clothing, his fingertips brushing against your skin unclasping your bra, taking it off you easily. You squirm beneath him, but his grip remains firm, unwavering.

"D-dont do it ..", you try squirming again.

Toji's lips twitch into a cruel grin. "Ah, but I must. After all, I promised to teach you a lesson, and I always keep my promises." His fingers continues their relentless exploration, caressing your nipple gently before pinching it firmly.

"Feel it, wife. Feel the pleasure I can give you, even as I punish you. Let your body betray your reluctance, let it crave what you claim to despise." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "And remember, this is all ya fault. You made me this way."

You buck beneath him, trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you unyielding. He pushes your top up, yanking it off you, exposing your breasts.

"S-stop ..", your hands escapes his grip swiftly, trying to hide your bare chest from his monstrous gaze.

Toji's eyes roams over your exposed body hungrily, drinking in the sight of your exposedness for the first time. "Such beauty, wasted on someone like you..."

He reaches out, his finger trailing down your sternum, then moving to your neck, causing goosebumps to rise. Your hands pushing his face, gripping his hair, trying to yank him off you.. But everything fails. And you know if you try hitting him, it'll enrage him further. Your hits are nothing in comparison to the hits requried to knock this giant man down.

Toji chuckles darkly, his grip on you unbreakable. "You cannot escape me, my dear. Not tonight." His fingers dance lightly along your collarbone, tracing patterns that sent chills down your spine. "You wanted control, you craved dominance, and now you shall experience both in equal measure."

As his fingers reaches your breast, he gently slapped your hands and, cupped your breasts, squeezing slightly before letting go. His eyes sparkling with mischief as he watches you writhe under his touch. "Soon, you'll beg for more."

Refusing to yield, you remain steadfast in your refusal to submit to him. You attempt to land kicks once again, this time more haphazardly and with greater force.

Toji catches one of your legs easily, his eyes gleaming with a mix of anger and lust. "Keep struggling, wife. Make it harder on yourself." He responds, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze lingers on your body, taking note of every twitch and shiver.

With a swift movement, he rolls you onto your stomach, restraining your arms behind your back, squeezing your face on the ground. His veins bulged on his hands as he gripped your hair tightly, pressing your cheeks against the cold floor with force.

Toji smirked, enjoying the fight in you. He pressed his body against yours, his erection evident through his clothes. "What happened to the lioness?" he mocked. "Got defeated by a mere dog?"

He reaches for your hefty priced skirt, ripping it down, revealing your bare ass. His hand hovers over it for a moment before bringing it down, delivering a sharp slap. You cry out in surprise and pain, arching your back.

"Fuck you that dress's worth is more than yours", Toji's eyes fall on your reddened teary-face. He gazes for a while before laughing cruelly, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

"Is that all you can muster, a reprimand for my actions? I thought you'd beg for mercy by now." His hand falls again, this time harder, the sting of the slap searing through your body.

"You are tough I must say" He speaks, his voice dark and heavy with emotion. His eyes flash with mischief as he prepared for his next move.

"L-let me go now", your tone somehow shifts to a plea.

He looks down at your red, angry cheeks and puffy lips, his gaze shifting to your ass, the imprints of his five fingers are distinctly visible on your skin. "Shall I?"

"YOU WILL LET ME GO BASTARD i WILL KILL YOU," you yell at him, hating the way he was treating you, as if he owns you.

Toji pulls you up by your hair, leaning closer to your face, "Looks like you haven't learned your lesson yet. Need to shut that big mouth,"

You forcefully expel saliva from your mouth, deliberately directing it towards his face, "Never."

Toji's face flashes with a grin as he wipes off your spit from his face and licks his finger, his grip on your hair tightening. "Nasty bitch!" he snarls. His free hand frees his erection and you gasp on seeing how big he is. Big enough to nearly kill you.

"W-what the fuck do you think you are doing", you swallowed in anticipation.

Without responding, he pulls your mouth towards his erection, rubbing the tip on your swollen lips.

Your hands reach up to squeeze his shaft, intending to hurt him. Toji winces, his eyes flashing with pain and anger. "You really don't want to die, do you?" His voice shaking with fury as he grasps your wrists, locking them on either side of his legs, his precum leaking shaft rubbing against your cheek. "This is your punishment, and you're going to take it like a good girl."

Despite your resistance, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, forcing you to take him off. You could barely take in his entire length as drool cascades down your chin and your neck swells with every push. You struggle but he remains firm, so you use your teeth, nibbling on his dick.

Toji hisses in pain and anger, releasing you. "You fucking cunt! I should've known better." He slaps you, causing you to cry out in agony. "That's for biting me!" He grabs your hair again, pulling your head toward his dick and begins to thrust roughly.

"Hnghh-", tears stream down your cheeks, smudging your flawless makeup.

Toji's eyes squint seeing you cry, his lips curling up trying to hide his laugher. "Crying? That's cute. You're crying while servicing me!" His grasp on your head tightens as he keeps fucking your throat relentlessly. "Didn't think you could handle it huh? Too bad, because this is just beginning!"

Your eyes twitching in anger, you keep making noises of struggles.

Toji's thrusts increasing in speed. "Shut up, you ungrateful whore! This is what you deserve!" He slamms into you harder, ignoring your protests.

Why is he acting like that all of a sudden? You never thought the man you married is going to treat you like this. But yes karma, you have hurt him, you made him like this. HE IS RIGHT, you deserve this.

His grip tightened on your hair, his thrusts growing more violent until you screamed, tears streaming down your face. Finally, he cums, flooding your mouth with his seed. "Swallow it. I want to see your Adam's apple moving."

You involuntary swallow his seed. Toji stares at you, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixated on the sight of you swallowing his semen. "Good dog," he sneers, wiping his shaft clean.

You wipe your mouth weakly, "I will never forgive you. You are gonna face the consequences."

Toji chuckles coldly, releasing you. "Oh, the night just started.." He picks you up walking towards your bedroom.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT.. WE ARE DONE.. I AM GOING TO FUCKING DIVORCE YOU", you throw punches on his spine, your nails scratcing his clothed back.

Ignoring your threats, Toji places you on bed, tying your hands with his XXL tshirt to the headboard. His eyes glinting with excitement. "We're far from done, darling. Now, spread your legs, or shall I do it for you?"

"You are not allowed to touch me.. TOJI FUSHIGURO!"

Toji grins wickedly," Oh yeah?", with a swift movement he pulls your panties off you. You legs hiding your core from his gaze. His eyes locked on your resistant form. " He reaches down, spreading your legs apart with force. Your protest is soon silenced by a hard slap accross your clit.

"Now Now.. Look at that," he gathers your wetness with his finger and licks it, "Taste of a bitch in heat."

You bite your lower lip from embarassment. Toji's eyes darkens with lust, his fingers running through your damp entrance, teasing your hole. "You're so wet, yet you are protesting? Ah, I love it." He smirks before inserting his finger inside you, feeling you tense. His eyes searching for your reaction.

"You are lying.. It's not possible-", you still keep on protesting.

Toji pulls his finger, "Hmm?" He raises his eyebrow at you, "Am I? Prove me wrong!" He inserts another finger, stretching you wide. You gasp, arching your back. "Mmm, see for yourself", he then pulls his fingers out. He holds his fingers near your face, covered in your essence, "See?", forcing them into your mouth making you taste yourself.

Your eyes widening, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Toji's eyes gleam triumphantly, his fingers finding their way back inside you. "Pretend all you want, but your body knows the truth." His thumb rubbed your clit, expecting a moan from you. "You want to feel my cock inside you, and let us both know the truth."

"D-do what you want.. but I will not moan."

Toji's grin never wavered as he pulled out his finger. "Stubborn till the end, aren't we?"

He adjusts his position above you, his erection poised to enter you. "Very well, but you won't be able to help yourself soon enough." Before you can react, he thrusts into you roughly, invading your core. He groans at the tightness, his pace increasing.

Your hands tugging on the restraint, eyes watering again from the invasion. He leans in, whispering in your ear, "Let me hear it, your pleasure."

"F-fuck fuck.. pull it out already.. Toji", you nearly beg him.

Toji does not pull out instead he leans back, his dick sliding inside you further hitting your womb as tears spill out of your eyes from the stretching.

"Ohh.. What a sight to behold! The mistress is crying.. Is that how you request your controller?", he slows down a little.

"Please.. Toji... pull it out already", you feel your insides getting ripped everytime he pushes himself in you.

Toji laughs darkly, "Call me master Toji"

"Bastard", you reply.

He starts thrusting, roughly and harshly. "You want to die?"

"Pls master toji .. It's tearing me," your voice shaking with pain and confused pleasure.

His thrusts slows down again, his eyes scanning your tear-streaked face. "That's right. Who owns you?"

"Y-you..", you reply, your self respect crumbled against Toji's feet.

He smiles cruelly, "Mmm... What's that? I wanted to pull out, but your walls are not allowing me to." with that he keeps slamming into you. This time gentlier than before. Your face twisting in anger and tears.

"No, no..." he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. "It's alright. Embrace your submissive nature. You'll thank me later." His thrusting intensifies, his pace accelerating. You whimper, unable to control your pleasure. "It feels good hah?"

"N-no it does not," you lie. Toji's eyes glint at your lie. 'We will see about that" as he speeds up his thrusts, pulling your nipple causing you to cry even louder.

Suddenly moan escapes from your mouth, biting your lips you hide your shift your head right avoiding eye contact with him.

"There it is!" he whispers, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Didn't you just say, you won't moannn?" his mocking evident. "That's it, let go! Enjoy it!" He rams into you, owning you fully.

Your eyes locking on his again. "You look so beautiful, when you are this vulnerable and submissive." His words, punctuated by his thrusts, your moans filling the air. "So obedient..."

Your walls tighten, your climax reaching soon. Toji's thrusts slow down as he realizes your nearness. "Not yet..." He pulls his dick out, causing you to cry out.

"I decide when you cum. Remember that." He reaches down, playing with your clit. "Beg for it."

You look at him, your mind still not wanting to give in.

"Beg for it, or I will keep doing this the whole night" He repeats, his voice firm.

He strokes his cock, your eyes widened, realizing the threat. "Please Toji, let me cum.." Your voice trembled, your body tensing.

"Please what?", he smirks biting his lips.

"P-Please master..", you pout after saying the words.

Toji smirks, placing the tip back to your entrance. "Complete the sentence," he rubs your wet, puffy clit with his tip.

"P-Please master toji let me cum", your respect for yourself almost vanished as your eyes begged for him.

"Louder" He pushes his tip inside you, painfully slow.

"PLEASE MASTER TOJI LET ME CUM.. PLEASE .. I BEG OF YOU"

Toji lets out a satisfied growl, thrusting deep. "That's more like it, my good slave." He pounds you mercilessly, your pleas for release filling the air. "Cum. For me."

Your body tenses, toes curl as you orgasm hard, walls spasming rapidly against his cock. Toji watches your orgasm unfurl, his dick pulsating inside you. "Mmm, nice." He thrusts faster, his climax approaching. "Fuck, yes. So tight.. I never imagined you felt this good." He grunts, his breath hitched, his release imminent. "Gonna fill you up. Bet you won't remain selfish anymore once you have your own baby."

Only moans come out of you as he thrusts into your oversensitive pussy. Toji finishes his thrusts, spilling himself inside you, pulling out just to see his seed drooling out of your clamping walls. "Shit.. Look at that, so dirty", he pushes his dick inside you again, watching your body shuddering.

You mutter a low appologise as your breathing starts becoming stable once again. "Oh so now ya guilty?" Toji laughs, his dick twitching inside you still, he's getting hard once again. He pulls his dick out and drags you onto his lap.

He caresses your cheek, "Do you think I can ever forgive you baby? with all these years of disrespect that you flung at me?" his other hand pats your ass. "I dont want to hear your apologies. I will divorce you just like that."

You feel as though everything is falling apart around you. It's the last thing you expected to hear from him. You know you love him, but you chose to ignore your feelings up until this point. "Pls master.. d-dont divorce me .. I love you", you lean towards him, kissing his cheek.

Toji's eyes flickered for a moment, as you kiss his cheek. "Wow.. Just an orgasm out of you, put you in your place? Perhaps.. There's only one way to change my mind", he licks his tongue wanting to push your buttons. You look at him expectantly.

Toji's eyes sparked with devious delight "Show me how much you love me, my slave".

Sighing, you take his erect cock and insert it inside of you. You begin to flex and extend your hips along his girth.

Toji watches as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you, his eyes twinkling. "Mmm, nothing sexier than a woman in need," He growls, grabbing your hips and pushing you into his hips. "Ride it harder!" He groans, moving along with your rhythm. You nod and increase your pace, bouncing harder, his veins popping on his forehead.

"Impressive, but more!" His hands move to your neck, pulling you closer. "Yes.. Open your mouth whore" He grips your throat gently, tightening his hold.

You open your mouth, and Toji spits in it, "Swallow it". Without any delay you swallow it.

Toji laughs, "How the tables turn, huh?"

You lean to kiss him, but he grabs your neck not allowing you to get closer to him. "I don't want to kiss your nasty mouth bitch"

"P-please master toji.. kiss me", you beg him, hands reaching to caress his hand on your neck.

"Hmm?" he whispers, "Why would I do that?" He tightens his grip, making it harder for you to breathe. You gasp, your eyes locking with his.

"I am sorry," you cry and pout, hips slamming against his pubis while riding him.

"Apologizing?" He loosens his grip, allowing you to breathe easier. "Now that's better." He watches you, how you are engulfing his cock with each movement.

"Still want my kiss?" He taunts, as he release his grip on your neck.

"Yes.. please.. Kiss me"

Toji captures your lips, his tongue invading your mouth. You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck. He groans, the taste of your submission sweet. "Mmm, such a good slave." He pulls away, "Appology accepted". His mouth leans in to latch onto one of your breasts, tongue circling your nipples and his cheeks hollowing.

Unable to control yourself you squirt all over him. He grunts at your sudden tightness. "What the fuck- so tight ah.." He removes his dick from you, putting you on your knees and hands. "Pissing like a dog? Want me to piss on you too?"

"S-sorry master, I was unable to control myself", your eyes rolled from the experience, collapsing on the bed.

Toji spanks your ass, bringing you to your knees. He lines up his dick to your entrance, holding you steady. "Ya looking like a used slut." His dick slides in your entrance, stretching you again. You whine and whimper, thighs shaking from the ecounters before.

"So sensitive..", Toji scoffs.

"Please .. I am near .. fuck me harder", your voice pleading, eyes rolled, drools driping down your chin.

Toji's thrusts speed up, taking you from behind. "Such an Insatiable cum slut " He groans, his voice hoarse. "Tell me how much you want my cum inside you."

"Fill me up pls.... I am master Toji's cumdump"

Toji roars, slamming into you. "Mmm, yes. My cum dump bitch." He releases inside you, feeling you cum and contract around his dick. He pulls out, watching his seed dripping out of you. His eyes lingered over your pussy, "Maybe you deserve a reward after all."

Your whole body convulses. Toji pulls himself out, "Do you want the reward?"

"Please.. reward me master .. I am your good slave," you falter.

Toji smiles, "Very well, my pet. You're a good slave then" He licks your thighs "Mmm, I love you. But if you dare to disappoint me again..." His teeth nibbling on your clit, making you moan loudly. "You know where you stand." He coos and blows on your wetness, licking you clean. Your body trembles, his tongue exploring your folds.

Toji moans, licking your and his cum.. He suckles your clit, his tongue dancing around. A huge cum drop falls on his tongue which he thrusts inside you again.

"Such a good slave, you'll give me a healthy pup" He hums, kissing your inner thighs. Your breath hitches, your orgasm nearing.

Unable to make out anything, you keep taking the pleasure he gives you.

Toji chuckles, his pace unrelenting. "Make me feel needed, slut" He tongue flicks your clit, you shaking. "Cum for me girl" He pinches your clit, your juice flowing freely. "Ahh, so fucking delicious..."

"Gonna cum .. Love you Toji .. a-ah", you blabber. "Yes, my whore. Go ahead" He growls, licking your juice dripping on his lips. Your thighs wrap around him, cumming again. He licks your cum from his tongue, your legs trembling.

"Good girl". He kisses your neck then pulling you closer to his dick.

"Clean your mess from it" He whispers.

Toji breathes heavily, your mouth enveloping his half-hardened dick. It gets hard again, "Mmm, yes, clean it nicely" He cups your head, his shaft coats in your saliva. "Like that, slut" His hand affectionately messes your hair, your moaning muffled. "So good... God.. I should have done this a lot earlier." He watched you swallow his dickhead, your saliva running down your chin. He laughs, his breaths hitched.

You suck on his balls while he strokes his length, "You know how to make a man happy" he whispers. He pulls you by your hair rubbing his dick on your cheeks.

He leans back, hips jerking. "Mmm, shoot!", his cum splattering across your face, your tongue sticking out, trying to catch some cum drops. He smiles, wiping your face.

"Mmm, so obedient, my little cum dump" He whispers, kissing your lips. "You did great today and if you dare to mistreat me again.."

"I will put you in your place.. Like how I did today."

DIVIDERS FROM @/cafekitsune

[mariacallous]

Just after Trump’s re-election in November 2024, I wrote a column headlined ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ (reproduced below) and in the three months since, pretty much everything it predicted how now come to pass. This is technoauthoritarianism. It’s tyranny + surveillance tools. It’s the merger of Silicon Valley companies with state power. It’s the ‘broligarchy’, a concept I coined in July last year though I’ve been contemplating it for a lot longer. Since 2016, I’ve followed a thread that led from Brexit to Trump via a shady data company called Cambridge Analytica to expose the profound threat technology poses to democracy. In doing so, I became the target: a weaponized lawsuit and an overwhelming campaign of online abuse silenced and paralysed me for a long time. This - and worse - is what so many others now face. I’m here to tell you that if it comes for you, you can and will survive it.

This week represents a hinge of history. Everything has changed. America and Russia are now allies. Ukraine has been thrown to the dogs. Europe’s security hangs in the balance. On the one hand, there’s nothing any of us can do. On the other, we have to do something. So, here’s what I’m doing. I’m starting a conversation. I’ve recorded the first one - a scrappy pilot - a podcast I’ve called How to Survive the Broligarchy and I’ve re-named the newsletter too. This first conversation (details below) is about how we need a new media built from the ground up to deal with the dangerous new world we’re in. That can only happen, in partnership with you, the reader. The days of top-down command and control are over. Please let’s try and do this together.

1 When someone tells you who they are, believe them. Last week Donald Trump appointed a director of intelligence who spouts Russian propaganda, a Christian nationalist crusader as secretary of defence, and a secretary of health who is a vaccine sceptic. If Trump was seeking to destroy American democracy, the American state and American values, this is how he’d do it.

2 Journalists are first, but everyone else is next. Trump has announced multibillion-dollar lawsuits against “the enemy camp”: newspapers and publishers. His proposed FBI director is on record as wanting to prosecute certain journalists. Journalists, publishers, writers, academics are always in the first wave. Doctors, teachers, accountants will be next. Authoritarianism is as predictable as a Swiss train. It’s already later than you think.

3 To name is to understand. This is McMuskism: it’s McCarthyism on steroids, political persecution + Trump + Musk + Silicon Valley surveillance tools. It’s the dawn of a new age of political witch-hunts, where burning at the stake meets data harvesting and online mobs.

4 If that sounds scary, it’s because that’s the plan. Trump’s administration will be incompetent and reckless but individuals will be targeted, institutions will cower, organisations will crumble. Fast. The chilling will be real and immediate.

5 You have more power than you think. We’re supposed to feel powerless. That’s the strategy. But we’re not. If you’re a US institution or organisation, form an emergency committee. Bring in experts. Learn from people who have lived under authoritarianism. Ask advice.

6 Do not kiss the ring. Do not bend to power. Power will come to you, anyway. Don’t make it easy. Not everyone can stand and fight. But nobody needs to bend the knee until there’s an actual memo to that effect. WAIT FOR THE MEMO.

7 Know who you are. This list is a homage to Yale historian, Timothy Snyder. His On Tyranny, published in 2017, is the essential guide to the age of authoritarianism. His first command, “Do not obey in advance”, is what has been ringing, like tinnitus, in my ears ever since the Washington Post refused to endorse Kamala Harris. In some weird celestial stroke of luck, he calls me as I’m writing this and I ask for his updated advice: “Know what you stand for and what you think is good.”

8 Protect your private life. The broligarchy doesn’t want you to have one. Read Shoshana Zuboff’s The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: they need to know exactly who you are to sell you more shit. We’re now beyond that. Surveillance Authoritarianism is next. Watch The Lives of Others, the beautifully told film about surveillance in 80s east Berlin. Act as if you are now living in East Germany and Meta/Facebook/Instagram/WhatsApp is the Stasi. It is.

9 Throw up the Kool-Aid. You drank it. That’s OK. We all did. But now is the time to stick your fingers down your throat and get that sick tech bro poison out of your system. Phones were – still are – a magic portal into a psychedelic fun house of possibility. They’re also tracking and surveilling you even as you sleep while a Silicon Valley edgelord plots ways to tear up the federal government.

10 Listen to women of colour. Everything bad that happened on the internet happened to them first. The history of technology is that it is only when it affects white men that it’s considered a problem. Look at how technology is already being used to profile and target immigrants. Know that you’re next.

11 Think of your personal data as nude selfies. A veteran technology journalist told me this in 2017 and it’s never left me. My experience of “discovery” – handing over 40,000 emails, messages, documents to the legal team of the Brexit donor I’d investigated – left me paralysed and terrified. Think what a hostile legal team would make of your message history. This can and will happen.

12 Don’t buy the bullshit. A Securities and Exchange judgment found Facebook had lied to two journalists – one of them was me – and Facebook agreed to pay a $100m penalty. If you are a journalist, refuse off the record briefings. Don’t chat on the phone; email. Refuse access interviews. Bullshit exclusives from Goebbels 2.0 will be a stain on your publication for ever.

13 Even dickheads love their dogs. Find a way to connect to those you disagree with. “The obvious mistakes of those who find themselves in opposition are to break off relations with those who disagree with you,” texts Vera Krichevskaya, the co-founder of TV Rain, Russia’s last independent TV station. “You cannot allow anger and narrow your circle.”

14 Pay in cash. Ask yourself what an international drug trafficker would do, and do that. They’re not going to the dead drop by Uber or putting 20kg of crack cocaine on a credit card. In the broligarchy, every data point is a weapon. Download Signal, the encrypted messaging app. Turn on disappearing messages.

15 Remember. Writer Rebecca Solnit, an essential US liberal voice, emails: “If they try to normalize, let us try to denormalize. Let us hold on to facts, truths, values, norms, arrangements that are going to be under siege. Let us not forget what happened and why.”

16 Find allies in unlikely places. One of my most surprising sources of support during my trial(s) was hard-right Brexiter David Davis. Find threads of connection and work from there.

17 There is such a thing as truth. There are facts and we can know them. From Tamsin Shaw, professor in philosophy at New York University: “‘Can the sceptic resist the tyrant?’ is one of the oldest questions in political philosophy. We can’t even fully recognise what tyranny is if we let the ruling powers get away with lying to us all.”

18 Plan. Silicon Valley doesn’t think in four-year election cycles. Elon Musk isn’t worrying about the midterms. He’s thinking about flying a SpaceX rocket to Mars and raping and pillaging its rare earth minerals before anyone else can get there. We need a 30-year road map out of this.

19 Take the piss. Humour is a weapon. Any man who feels the need to build a rocket is not overconfident about his masculinity. Work with that.

20 They are not gods. Tech billionaires are over-entitled nerds with the extraordinary historical luck of being born at the exact right moment in history. Treat them accordingly.

There is much much more to say on all of the above and that’s my plan. But please do share this with anyone who needs to hear it.

How to Survive the Broligarchy: a new podcast

A month ago, I was feeling floored: at the moment in which everything I’ve been warning about for the last eight years suddenly became overwhelmingly real, I was also being dislodged from my journalistic home. The Guardian, my seat of operations for the last 20 years, the last nearly ten of which have been focussed squarely on this subject, has done a deal, in the face of fierce opposition from its journalists, to give away a core part of the organisation. More than 100+ journalists will leave the organisation, including me.

This week, the Guardian confirmed that the last edition of the Observer would be April 20 and my 20-year employment with the organisation would be terminated then. The same day, Tortoise Media, the new home of the Observer, wrote to tell me that they would not be offering me a contract. But now, instead of feeling floored, I feel energised. You’ll hear some of that energy, I hope, in this first episode of the new podcast that I made a pilot for this week. It’s embedded at the top of this newsletter and - when I figure out the backend - will be available on Apple and Spotify and everywhere else too. I have an idea that I explore in this first episode with two people much smarter than me that this might be the start of a journey to a creating a independent, open, collaborative transparent form of ‘live’ journalism.

My investigation of big tech, power, politics, the weaponisation of data, foreign interference, Russian oligarchs and social media has always traversed subjects and specialisms. I’ve drawn on the expertise of so many people along the way and in trying to understand this moment, I realised they are not only the people I want to speak to now, they are also the expert voices that everyone needs to hear. My idea is to make these conversations public and to build a community - a feedback loop - contributing ideas and suggestions and, hopefully, networks of action.

I’ve been doing some of this work with the Citizens, the non-profit, I founded back in 2020 (sign up to their newsletter here), but there is a small ray of hope, in the midst of the current crisis, independent media is in a huge moment of growth and the green shoots of a non-corporate, non-oligarch owned media system are springing up everywhere. I’m hugely grateful to the 55,000 people who’ve signed up to this newsletter so far but there’s so much more we can do.

I’d been kicking around this idea for a new podcast for the last few weeks and then a call with my friend, Claire Wardle, spurred me into action. Claire is a professor at Cornell, an Ivy League university in upstate New York, where she studies as as she puts it “our crazy information environment”. I first met Claire when giving evidence to a parliamentary committee back in 2017 and then we re-met at the TED conference in Vancouver in 2019 where we were both due to give talks and hung out in between paralysing bouts of fear and imposter syndrome.

That TED talk led to a years-long lawsuit for me. And Claire, who founded a non-profit called First Draft that co-ordinated newsrooms and researchers to fight mis- and disinformation, has also found herself under attack. She and more than 100 other researchers in the field have been subpoenaed by a congressional committee who accused them of being part of the ‘censorship industrial complex’.

It’s these sorts of attacks that are now coming for so many other people. My ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ column, above, was intended as both a handbook - how do we protect ourselves? - and a manifesto, how do we fightback against these companies? And that’s the ethos of this podcast too, bringing together a network of people who have the knowledge we need for this next stage.

Claire and I decided this first conversation should be about how the media is covering this moment and its inability to shake off the “business as normal” framing of the authoritarian takeover of the US government.

I include a voice note from Roger McNamee in the first episode, a tech investor - he introduced Mark Zuckberg to Sheryl Sandberg - who’s now one of the most trenchant critics of both Silicon Valley and the media. And Mark Little, an Irish foreign correspondent turned tech entrepreneur (one of his claims to fame is being aquired by Rupert Murdoch), who’s pioneered new media models joined us to talk about solutions.

The best and most enjoyable journalism I’ve done in recent times is two investigative, narrative podcasts. Sergei & the Westminster Spy Ring debuted in December at number one in the Apple podcast chart and the BBC’s Stalked is currently sitting at the top of the true crime and series charts.

And what Mark pointed out, which I hadn’t thought about before, is that it’s the “process” of these real-time investigative podcasts that young listeners like. And it’s true that what we’re doing in Stalked is really punchy: this week, we name the suspect who we believe to be Hannah, my ex-stepdaughter’s, cyberstalker, something the police abjectly failed to do. In Sergei, we uncovered a UK government cover-up of foreign interference. We’re doing both of these live, transparently, and showing our workings.

As Mark teases it out, this is the impulse behind this podcast pilot too. It’s also a “true crime” story: democracy has been murdered and there’s a serial killer on the loose. It’s a race against time to prevent the perpetrator devastating the US beyond repair and racking up a bodycount in Europe. (If you can’t or don’t want to listen to it, there’s a transcript here.)

If that all sounds a bit weird and experimental but also ambitious and unlikely, I’d have to agree. But the whole point is that we have entered a wholly dangerous new era and we need new ways of communicating, of doing journalism, of storytelling, of reaching new audiences. It may very well not work in which case I’ll try something else but I’d love your feedback in the comments below. If you have ideas for collaborations or building this network, you can email me at survivingbroligarchy@proton.me.

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck Together - Part 5

Summary: After Westview, Wanda and her children go into hiding. She's not happy with the person in charge of protecting them.

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

It takes a minute to gather her bearings.

When Wanda opens her eyes, there’s a soft light filtering through the bedroom window. The twins are asleep next to her, still too scared to go to separate rooms even if your house was big enough.

Careful not to wake them, Wanda leaves the bed, finding one of your hoodies and wearing it before stepping out. For a moment, it feels like she’s back in Westview, before the illusion was completely shattered and she had to face the facts.

And somehow, this was better than anything her magic could have created. Everything comes together in this piece of land to give a complete feeling of calm and quiet.

“You’re up early”

Wanda turns back, expecting to come face to face with you. Except, it’s muzzle to face, as a horse is staring at her.

“Hi. Uh, yeah. I wanted to stretch my legs for a bit”

“Funny, we were doing just that. Lou is a very stubborn girl, so if I’m not around she gets restless”

Lou steps forward, and you think it’s because she doesn’t know Wanda. To your surprise, she smells her, nuzzling against her face.

“Hey, she likes you”

Wanda knows next to nothing about horses, but you’re holding the reins so confidently, riding as if Lou is an extension of your own body.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“The kids are still asleep”

“Riley will take care of it” you whistle and the dog, that was walking besides you, goes back inside. “Won’t let any stranger inside, promise”

Before Wanda can tell what you’re doing, you lean forward, picking her up easily so she’s sitting before you, her back to your front.

“Is this ok?” you ask, arms trapping Wanda and keeping her close to your body, as you’re still holding the horse reins.

“Yeah. Fine” she says, hoping you don’t notice her blush.

You make a clicking sound with your tongue, Lou advancing immediately at the command. She admires the farm that’s been in your family for three generations.

There are apple orchards, cherries, pumpkins and even some fraser fir around. Wanda listens intently at the stories of the place, how it became pivotal to keep the small town alive.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t imagine growing up here”

“It was fun” you admit, making Lou approach one of the trees. You reach your hand forward, and Wanda has to remind herself to breathe when she feels your hot breath against her ear. “Here”

You hand over an apple, Wanda sinking her teeth and moaning at the sweet taste.

It’s your turn to squirm in your seat.

“It’s delicious”

To give Lou a break, you get off and help Wanda as well, your hands lingering on her waist.

“Can I ask you something?” she says, looking at the river.

“What about?”

“You don’t think I’m a monster? You heard what happened”

“Lou likes you, and she’s a good judge of character” you say with a smile. Wanda looks away, and you know she needs to hear more than a joke. “Look, you didn’t do it on purpose. You’ve been through a lot of shit than most people your age. This is why I always told the team they should let you have a normal life”

“You did?”

“I fought so hard for them to leave you alone. Go to college or something. Instead they throw you into dangerous missions. I never liked it” you shake your head.

“I thought you didn’t like me”

“You were ok. A little bratty sometimes” you joke, and this time, Wanda does roll her eyes. “Always running your mouth”

“Yeah, I think you had some ideas on how to get me to shut up” she turns to face you, arms crossed in a way that has her breasts pressed together. You gulp, flushing.

“Ok, that… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not one to be so crass. Or disrespectful”

“So, you don’t mean it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess I do have a thing for redheads with green eyes and attitude issues”

It’s meant to be a joke, of course. But Wanda’s insecurities come crawling back when she feels you’re comparing her to Natasha.

Natasha, the hero who sacrificed herself for the universe. The woman that dedicated her life to cleaning her ledger, changing her legacy.

You look in shock as she turns around to leave, and this time you decide to follow after her.

“Hey, can you please explain why all of the sudden you get pissed at me?” you reach for her hand, and she yanks it away. You know that if you try again, she’ll blast you all the way to the river. “Wanda!”

“I get it, ok? I’ll never be as good as Natasha. But I’m not second best, or her stand in just because you’re bored. I always liked you, and you’re out there saying you’d rather be in a world where she is alive and I’m nothing. That’s fine. But I didn’t ask to be brought back at the expense of her life. And I won’t apologize either, not when this gave me Billy and Tommy”

With that, she turns to walk back to the house.

You don’t follow her.

—

This was a mistake. Wanda sees it now. Spending all this time with you, while she’s still so vulnerable and shaken up…

You were never meant to find out about her feelings. Truthfully, she was hoping it was just a crush, something she developed because she felt alone and lost.

Well, she’s still alone, and lost. But there’s more to it. The way you protect her, how you interact with the kids… taking them in to your own home without question.

But it all leads back to her, doesn’t it? The Sokovian Accords, the snap, Natasha’s death. It was all because of Wanda. And you’ll never see past that.

They have to leave, and soon. Before Wanda falls deeper in love and gets hurt again. She won’t be able to take it this time.

As her thoughts begin to spiral, Wanda feels the walls of the room closing in on her. Where will they go? How does she even start over, after everything that’s happened?

She’s not even aware of her movements, until she opens the door, meeting your hesitant eyes. You were about to knock, hand in the air.

“Oh. Hi” you say, clearing your throat. “I… uh, I’m sorry, Wanda”

“What for?” she says, trying to ease her breathing.

“For making you feel… unimportant. For implying it would be better if you weren’t back. Truth is… it is what it is, and everyone made their choices. But you’re not responsible for that, and I’d never blame you for it. And if it came across that way, I truly am sorry”

The few times you’ve managed to speak to Yelena, you always say the same thing.

Natasha made a sacrifice to bring her back. To give her a chance to have a good life, one that was worth living.

Didn’t the same thing apply for Wanda?

Couldn’t it apply to you as well?

“So, here…” you hand over a bouquet, with flowers you picked along the way, after she left you by the river.

“Thank you” Wanda accepts them, trying not to read too much into the gesture.

It’s just a peace offering.

“Sykes told me they want to throw a small party, just to welcome you. So, do you want to?”

“That’s hardly necessary” Wanda leans against the door, smelling the flowers.

“They insist, and I promise the food alone makes it worth it. The kids will have plenty of friends to play with as well”

“Alright then” she nods, smiling as you push yourself off the doorframe.

You’re walking backwards, admiring how breathtaking she looks holding the flowers and smiling at you. Like she’s in love.

Maybe you’re a little bit in love too, who knows.

Weirder things have happened.

“Shoot” you say when you crash against the couch, eyes still on her.

“Watch where you’re going” Wanda teases, and you roll your eyes.

Yeah, you’re in big trouble.

—

For the next week, a pleasant routine settles. You insist that they’re free to come and go, use anything they need or want from the house. You don’t impose your ways into the Maximoffs, but they fit perfectly in your own little world.

Wanda has it memorized by now. You get up early, run to the town -what’s 15 miles back and forth for a super soldier?- bring back the paper and some pastries. Because you do have a very sweet tooth indeed.

By the time you’re back, Wanda’s in the kitchen making coffee. You’d usually take Lou out, but the kids like to walk around with her, even if she’s only accepting Wanda in her orbit.

While you wait for the boys to wake up, you drink coffee with Wanda, sharing the paper and commenting on the latests news. You also do the crossword puzzle, which takes you both a good ten minutes to complete.

Once every animal in the farm is taken care of, you return to have breakfast. Wanda’s getting creative with her recipes, taking advantage of the garden you have, growing several things that she loves to pick up every morning.

An unexpected turn adds another thing to the routine.

One time, when Lou yanks at the rope that Billy is holding, you reprimand her.

“Lucille!”

“Lucille?” Wanda tilts her head, intrigued.

“Like Lucille Ball, from I love Lucy…”

“Of course. Yes! Do you like the show?” Wanda says, excited to discuss one of her favorite sitcoms.

“Obviously. I grew up watching all of those. Dick Van Dyke Show, The Mary Taylor Moore Show… man, those were the good days of television”

“Oh, there are some good shows out there now”

“Friends was the last one I saw” you admit, and Wanda gasps.

“Modern family?”

“What?” you tilt your head in confusion.

That’s enough reason to start a nightly watch of a couple of episodes, once the kids are asleep. It’s fascinating to Wanda how you miss so much of pop culture, even if you weren’t frozen like Barnes or Steve.

Except today, when the kids decide that they want to watch all of the Cars movies.

“There’s more than one?” you practically shout. “Hell, no, I’m out”

“Sit back down” Wanda says, her hands on your shoulders. She lets them rest there even after you settle back in the couch, and pretty soon she’s leaning against your side.

Sinking into the couch, you relax, though the movie irritates you at times. Talking cars.

Dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever heard.

“Swear jar!” Billy turns from his spot on the floor.

“Nu-uh! I thought about it, didn’t say it out loud”

“Mom!”

“Swear jar” she says, eyes glued to the television. You scoff, but one arch of her eyebrow has you standing up to put a buck in the jar.

“You said two bad words. That’s two dollars” Billy watches you like a hawk.

“Fine! Happy?”

Still, you can’t believe there’s a third movie.

“Ok, tell you what. Tommy and I will race. If he wins we watch it. If I win… we watch literally anything else”

The boys agree, if only because they love to compete. You walk outside, Wanda right behind you.

“You sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, I’m a super soldier” you say, showing off your muscles.

“You’re a hundred years old” she adds, laughing. You glare but not for much longer, as Tommy is bouncing on his feet, ready to compete.

“Alright, first to do five laps wins” you say, high fiving all the Maximoffs.

“Ready, set… go!” Billy says and you start running.

You keep a very tight race for the first three laps, but then you start to fall behind.

Oh, no.

He was slowing down to go at your speed. Tommy’s gonna beat your ass. You push yourself, running as fast as you can, but in the last lap, you can practically hear him breaking the sound barrier, birds flying out of the trees, scared at the booming sound.

“Ah, crap” you hold your side, breathing heavily. “I can’t take another Cars movie. Kill me, please”

As you plop down on the grass, Wanda stands next to you, smiling.

“Don’t be so dramatic. Come on, a bet is a bet” she extends her hand for you to take it and stand up.

And you do take it, but instead you pull her down with you.

“Stop it!” she laughs when you’re tickling her sides, rolling around in the grass as you both laugh. “Ugh, you’re all sweaty and stinky, let me go”

“Nope”

“Please, please, detka” she laughs and the pet name takes you by surprise.

You know what it means, after all. Wanda seems totally unaware of what she just said.

“Ass” she mutters, but there’s no malice in her tone.

You smile at her, heart beating out of your chest.

“Guys, come on! We want to watch the movie!”

“Can we get pizza?”

“Loser pays the pizza” Wanda points at you and you groan.

“So not fair”

But truth is, you don’t mind at all.

—

Movie marathons can be just as exhausting as the other kind. The kids are fast asleep and Wanda excuses herself from the nightly Modern Family rewatch, feeling a bit tired as well.

But the thing is, she’s staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way your hands felt all over her body, laughing in her ear as you teased her.

The weight of your body on top of hers. She has to take a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. After a few minutes tossing and turning -at least the kids are in a room of their own now- she decides to head to the kitchen and make some tea.

To her surprise, you’re sprawled across the couch, and the minute you hear her come in, you change channels.

“Were you watching porn?” she jokes and you scoff.

“Weren’t you exhausted?”

“Can’t sleep. What were you watching?”

“Nothing” you answer, too defensive for Wanda’s liking. She stays silent for a moment, and then launches forward, hoping to take the remote away from your hands.

“Maximoff!” you groan, struggling with her. Truth be told, either one of you could outpower the other; your strong build helps, and Wanda, well, she could kick your ass with her magic.

But all you do is pull and push, giggling and joking until Wanda snatches the remote, changing the channel back.

“Ancient Aliens?” she says, laughing, and you bury your head in your hands.

“It relaxes me” you say, your voice coming out muffled.

“How so?”

“Because! It’s so fucking stupid. What do you mean fucking aliens built the god damn pyramids?“

“Aliens exist”

“I know that. I fought them a couple of times, remember? I’m just saying. I don’t think showing humans thousand of years ago how to pile rocks was their priority. That’s just bullshit”

“Such a dirty mouth. You kiss your mother with that?” she jokes.

“I kissed you with that mouth”

It’s meant to be a joke, but then you’re looking down at her lips, and she moves forward, straddling your lap. It gets messy real quick, hands touching everywhere they can reach, mouths exploring each other, and your moans drowning out the sound of the tv.

“Wait, wait” Wanda moves back, though she really hesitates when she feels you sucking on her pulse point, knees suddenly weak. “Y/N, stop”

“Sorry, I’m sorry… Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” you craddle her face in your hands, thumb tracing her cheek. The look you’re giving her, a mix of adoration, and genuine concern… that’s the most exhilirating part of this.

“I can’t… I care too much. Feel too much. And I’m not sure we want the same things”

“Stay” is all you say, hands going around her waist to pull her closer to you.

“What?”

“Stay. Let’s find out together. I’m just so damn tired… of being angry and fighting the world. Maybe this happened for a reason. Or maybe you’re just horny and I’m attractive enough to pass the time”

“You’re such a jerk” she says, smiling.

“Yeah, but you like me” you smile back, hands traveling lower and lower, waiting for her to stop you. She never does, and then you turn to look at her, tilting your head. “So, what do you say?”

“Stay, huh? I think I can do that”

“Alright, then” you nod, your lips meeting hers once more. 

—

There’s an addition to the routine. After the kids go to bed, you and Wanda stay in the living room. You rarely make it through an episode of whatever it is you’re pretending to watch, too lost in each other’s touch to remember the TV is still on. Most of the times, she ends up sinking in the cushions, smiling up at you, her hair disheveled as you find all the spots that make her squirm, moan and shudder.

But -and you can’t admit this out loud, not yet, at least- your favorite part is after, when you slow down, Wanda leaning against you, your hand going up and down her arm as you talk about everything.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asks, which makes you laugh. “Forget it”

“Come on, I’m teasing” you kiss her temple, smiling. “Yellow”

“All your clothes are black. Or grey. Dark blue” she says.

“I like yellow… like the sun in the early morning. Or the reflection of sunlight in the river. The leaves when it’s fall. Wheat too. Reminds me of the farm. What about you?”

“Blue. What? Were you expecting red?”

“Maybe” you smile against her temple, and she relaxes. You stay silent for a couple of minutes, and she sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I can sense you want to ask, so just do it”

“Ok, don’t get mad at me. And definitely don’t throw me out the door… I fixed it last month”

“Will the window do?”

“Oh, yeah, feel free to blast me through the glass” you turn around, facing her and she scoots closer. You can tell she’s a little guarded, almost scared. “So, Billy and Tommy… you had them while you were in Westview? Like, how? Created by magic? Is that a thing?”

“I mean, I gave birth to them”

“And is Vision…?”

“I suppose. I’m not entirely sure how it works” she admits with a shy laugh.

“You don’t know how babies are made?”

“No, you idiot. What I mean is…”

“I can show how they’re made” you tease, and she slaps your shoulder to try to hide her blush. Before you can get cocky, she straddles your lap.

“What I mean is… it came from a place of longing and love and grief. And it defied all logic, all the rules of time and space. So, I don’t know. Maybe you are the father”

“Me?! Should I get a paternity test?”

“Idiot”

“I hold in my hand the envelope, with DNA results and the father is...” you pretend to open an invisible letter. “The father is Y/N, oh my God!”

“You. Are. Such. An. Ass”

“Glad you’re all caught up on that” you say, holding her hands so she stops slapping your sides. The only way to make her stop is by kissing her, and you’re more than happy to do so.

If only things were that simple all the time.

—

The next morning, you’re woken up by a knock on your door.

“Y/N? Did mom leave for the store?”

You look around, finding Wanda asleep right next to your side. Well, that’s a first.

“Oh, just a minute” you say. Wanda blinks a few times, then looks around.

“Did I fall asleep here? Oh, my God” she whisper yells, looking around.

“Hey, calm down” you kiss her temple. “I’ll take care of the kids, take your time to do whatever you need. There’s a couple of clean hoodies, since you’re a thief” you try to joke to ease her nerves.

“I just didn’t mean to overstep”

“You didn’t. I slept comfortably. You’re not a blanket hoarder, surprisingly”

“Well, I was expecting you’d snore” she teases back.

But then Billy is joining his brother at the door and you sigh, kissing her before leaving the room.

You tell them that Wanda’s getting some stuff from the garden, and take them outside to feed Lou and walk Riley.

As you walk along the farm, they insist on taking a longer route to play around the lake. You agree, Riley following close behind you.

It’s like every morning, beautiful and quiet.

Except Riley, who’s being too loud today, barking incessantly.

“Girl, what’s wrong? Come here” you whistle. But she keeps barking, her body leaning forward on the edge of the pier, balancing her weight as much as she can so she doesn’t end up in the water.

The kids take notice of the commotion, walking up to you.

“Stand back” you say, kneeling next to Riley.

You see it too late.

A ghostly face. White, estoic, terrifying.

The creature comes out of the water, holding you by the neck.

“I have to kill you”

[painfullypregnant]

Big Boss

((Contains: Gender neutral carrier, labor inducing sex, public birth, slight humiliation and clothing birth))

I ignored the dull throbbing in my back and abdomen as my boss drilled into me, cock wide and heavy. My belly that usually swing with his violent thrusts was now still and solid as he slammed into my baby-cradling hips. I smelled the celebratory alcohol that was heavy on his breath while he leaned in and began to pump in and out of my bruised hole at a breakneck pace.

At this point in my overdue pregnancy, I could barely keep up. I breathed deeply to cope with the pelvic pain that multiplied when he invaded my pussy. I was so late and begged to be induced over a week ago but he denied my desire for birth and my time off request when I began to feel like I could lay down and push at any moment. I followed his every command despite my desperation, and he relished the control he had over me in my most vulnerable moments.

It was made abundantly clear that I'd give in to everything he wanted or else there would he consequences. Not physical, but financial.

Things hadn't always been this way. My boss was a humble and kind man when the company first started. The team was close knit and felt more like a family than anything I'd experienced at other jobs. It was a delight to work here until we went viral and blew up overnight. The public excitement for our projects meant money. More than any of us had ever seen in our lives. Soon enough, my boss was worth billions and the wealth spread to the rest of the team.

We'd been so happy but the more we grew, the more changes I saw in my boss. I knew he always had a crush on me, one I did not return in the slightest but we remained good friends even outside of work. He made his advances more obvious and frequent. I began to grow concerned, as there was no HR department for me to report to if anything happened. He was HR.

The day came where I was called into his office while preparing to head home and the way he looked at me as soon as I entered told me everything I needed to know. It was like a large, starving dog staring down a cut of fresh beef. I dreaded what was to come but was more surprised when he spoke.

"You know, I really appreciate the work you do around here. This company owes you a lot."

"Thank you, sir." I said while trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

"I think you could be so much more. And work is getting a bit hectic up here at the top. Would you be interested in a... promotion of sorts? CFO, perhaps?"

CFO? That can't be... It would triple my net worth and it would only grow from there. I'd be set for life after working a single year but as excited as the proposal made me, I was skeptical at the same time. There had to be a catch. There were other men here who were far more qualified than I was to be his second in command.

"That would be lovely but... what would the requirements be?"

He dropped his head and chuckled before looking back up at me with those piercing eyes. "Remember that talk we had a while back at the New Year's party?"

I narrowed my eyes, genuinely stumped as to what he was referencing.

Then it hit me.

Instead of telling the truth, I continued to play dumb. I truly prayed this wasn't going where I thought he was taking it. "I'm afraid I don't."

He must've caught my bluff because he stood from his desk and walked up to me with languid steps. "C'mon. You really don't remember? That thing about me wanting to be a dad and the babies?"

My heart was in my ears. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm sorry, I really don't remember much from that night and we were drunk and–" I went silent when he held up large hand, looking annoyed.

"You remember." He was telling me. And I did but I wish I hadn't.

"Is there a reason why you're bringing this up."

"You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"I want you to give me a baby. No. Correction. You're going to give me a baby."

I was feeling too many things at once. Frustration, fear, arousal, anger. The latter bubbled over everything and I began to snap at him for using my drunken confession of my fetish against me in such a way. "With all due respect, I'm not some incubator or a dog to be bred."

"Was I asking you?"

I closed my mouth. He's not going to say it. He won't.

"If you want to continue working at this company, you're leaving this room pregnant tonight."

And just like that, I felt the walls close in around me. Sure, I had a desire to be pregnant. The idea of being stuffed with another man's seed was riveting but I'd hoped that man would be someone I chose. Someone I loved and agreed to settle with. Not my boss who was currently dangling my future over my head.

Then the arousal took hold. My boss was a big man. Much larger than me at 6'3 and 300lbs. of fat and muscle. I'd always dreamed of carrying big. I was merely 5'1 and knew taking his seed would mean being weighed down by a huge baby in the end. And it was a fantasy of mine to carry and birth a large child as my first.

So I nodded.

He took me over his desk and the morning sickness came within weeks of him dumping fat, hot loads of cum against my cervix. He continued to fuck me insane almost every day. I enjoyed it. More than he did until I entered my final month and the pounding never slowed down.

What remained a fantasy for him was now a complete hell for me. I was constantly cramping, tired, and leaking from somewhere. One day it would be my waters, one day it would be my tits, some days it would be neither or both. The babe was big in my hips. I leaned back and swayed when I walked around the building. False labor took hold more frequently and the post-orgasm contractions were beginning to drive me insane. I was completely out of womb and his child fought against me as it grew to a size my body could no longer accommodate. There were constant bulges around my belly. He'd rub the lumps under my skin and growl at how his load was becoming too much for me to handle.

The more I cried from his baby's head bouncing on my cervix, the harder he went. Two nights before, I was confident that I was in labor after our end-of-the-day session. He ushered me into his car and we rushed to the hospital, all the while he talked about how ready he was to see me scream and bulge around the head of his child as I sobbed through violent contractions in the passenger seat.

We were both surprised to be sent home shortly after I was examined.

Even though I felt and looked like I was on the verge of childbirth, the doctors confirmed that I wasn't open enough for the baby to come, but if the sex continued (they definitely noticed his cum in my hole as they checked my dilation), I'd be laboring very soon.

As excited as this made him, I noticed he was more careful and halted the sex due to an upcoming event I was needed for.

We were announcing the launch of our latest project and presenting concepts of a few others in the works at a major tech expo that would be live streamed and viewed by millions. He wanted me to be the one to introduce our ideas and pass the mic off so he could elaborate on the subjects. He said he wanted everyone to know I was involved and give me credit for some of the things we came up with but I knew there was something else behind it.

My suspicion was confirmed as he took me in his drunken state after the pre-expo party. His breath was on my neck and in my ear as he thrusted hard. All he could talk about was how excited he was for the world to see what he'd done to me. For them to see how painful and fat with child he made me.

"And as soon as we're off stage I'm gonna fuck you." The thought made him fuck me faster. "I'll fuck you until you're begging to push."

I was manhandled from the hotel bed to the bathroom where he continued to rock in and out of me. He came for what I hoped was the last time, trembling and shaking profusely as he cradled my contracting belly with huge hands that dwarfed mine. He stayed inside my hole after he came and groaned as the contraction squeezed him. I grunted in pain and pushed on his hips as a signal for him to get out, and he did to my surprise. A bit of water followed his cock when he pulled out, but not enough for a full rupture.

We showered together and he passed out as soon as he hit the bed. I silently labored throughout the night. There were a few times when I tried to wake him and let him know the baby was on its way but he'd growl and turn away from me.

I thought for sure he'd wake up to a soaked bed with me moaning around the head of his child but my cervix and waters held overnight. I felt so weak from the lack of sleep by the morning but I had a job to do.

I was the first one in the bathroon to prepare for the day. A contraction had me bent over the sink when he finally entered and paused to admire the state he put me in. I didn't even know he was there until I felt his hardness against my ass and I gasped, pushing his hips away again with my hand.

"Please." I begged, unable to take any more sex with the head of his child so low and ready to be born. "Please, I can't."

"Relax. Don't have time for it anyway and I can't have this one coming out before the presentation."

I was slow to get ready and needed help getting into my outfit. I cursed every god there was for the store not having elastic waist slacks in stock when I went shopping for something to present in. The pants I got were slightly too small and the belt I wore cut into my lower belly, adding to the pressure.

We were in the elevator on our way down to the conference hall when I yelped and clutched my belly. He glanced at me without moving his head and asked in annoyance. "What's wrong with you?"

"I've-I've been having birth pains since last night." I was trying so hard to sound like I wasn't blaming him but he smirked and chuckled to my surprise.

"Was it that good?" He laughed even harder but I couldn't fathom joking at the moment. The pain grew and a new feeling came with it. The urge to push. My boss must have seen it on my face and the way I grasped the crotch of my pants. "We'll be done in no time. Then we can go to the bathroom and you can scream it out in the toilet for all I care."

The elevator dinged and he started walking out before I could finish my plea for a replacement. He was severely underestimating everything I felt and paid no attention to the condition I was in. The entirety of his mind was on this expo. Everything else would come after.

He paused just as he stepped into the lobby and let me lead. I knew he just wanted to watch me waddle and grunt through waves of other people, my ripeness and discomfort on full display for everyone to see. People looked and pointed at me with concerned expressions. I was embarrassed walking around in such a state but my boss loved the looks I got. He nodded and smiled at everyone who stopped to observe my gravidness.

I thought we'd never make it to the back stage room but we did. My feet and back were screaming as I stood there badly hunched over my oddly shaped belly, desperately looking around for a place to rest. Someone must have noticed because a younger man ran over to me with a cushioned chair and gestured for me to take a seat. I thanked him as I began to lower myself down but the head shifted when my legs spread and I grunted loudly while clutching my rock-solid belly. I lifted it to move the weight of the baby off my poor hips as I squatted down further onto the chair.

It felt so good to finally be able to sit and just let my belly hang. I sat there contracting and squirming for the better part of an hour before I was called for final touch ups before I went on stage. It took ages for me to haul my overly pregnant body off the chair and waddle to the proper station.

My boss made his frustrating with how long it was taking me to walk known but I ignored him as a lightning bolt of pain shot through my body. I threw my head back and moaned loudly, nearly giving in to my body's demand to force the baby out. One hand clutched my crotch while the other frantically rubbed at my back and belly for any bit of relief I could get. My legs shook violently as I kept myself from falling to the floor. I rolled my hips as best as I could and began whispering as I breathed deep.

"Whooooa. Hooooo, baby hold on. Hold on for me, please. Hooooooo. Hoooooooo. Ohhhhhhh the head."

When asked if I was okay by one of the interns, I opened my mouth to tell her I needed to give birth but my boss beat me to it. "Hey, they're fine. Worry about your job."

The intern frowned. "Let me get you some water."

"I said they're fine! And there's no time, they should be on stage already." I was not fine and would, in fact, kill for a cup of cold water.

I tried one last time in vain to tell him how close I was, and that it was urgent. "The baby's really coming. The head... I'm gonna pu–"

"Alright, go! We'll deal with it later."

An older woman was the one who prepped my ear piece. She looked down at me with a sympathetic frown as she adjusted it so I could hear any commands I was given from my boss. I could tell she'd been through this before by the way she began to coach me through the contraction I was suffering. "Breathe. Just breathe and go slow. Try to hold that baby in, you just gotta be up there for ten minutes."

I didn't feel like I had ten minutes in me. This baby was coming NOW. I didn't even register her whispering to another worker next to me because I was so lost in the fog of childbirth.

As soon as it ended, it was time.

My boss gave my ass a pinch and I jumped before walking out on stage. Thousands clapped and cheered when they saw me. For a split second, I was distracted from the fact that I was in full blown active labor and smiled as I began my intro. Throughout the entirety of the presentation so far, I was on autopilot. I had practiced this in my sleep and it was rehearsed several times at the office.

And then something in me snapped. I jumped and let out a small gasp when I felt the sharpest pain in my cervix. I stared off into space and blinked rapidly as I felt my body push in earnest without me. I paused for a few seconds longer than I wanted to and I heard my boss's voice through the earpiece. "The AI? Did you forget already?"

I was fighting the urge to grab my belly and moan when his voice cut through everything and threw me back into the presentation like a robot. But this time, my mind multitasked. I was still on autopilot but another part of my mind was on the baby I was about to birth in front of millions if I didn't get off stage right this instant.

I felt a trickle run down my leg and knew my waters would go at any second but before that could happen, I finished my part of the presentation. The crowd erupted in applause and I looked towards my boss who couldn't be more proud. And I was close to relief. All I had to do was call him up and that would be it. I could run into the bathroom and give in to the pure instinct that was screaming for me to lay down and have his baby right here.

"And our CEO will tell you the rest." I ended with a trembling smile that no one seemed to notice.

It felt like he was walking in slow motion up to me. I began to shake. I took one step towards him as he approached but quickly squeezed my legs together when I felt the baby lurch downward. The head was heavy and round behind the lips of my pussy as it bulged. I was border line hyperventilating by the time he got to me. My panicked state was noticed and his eyebrows furrowed but he continued with his part of the presentation.

He thanked me with a "how about another hand for my second in command?". The crowd roared once more and I was forced to turn and face them. The camera zoomed in to my face but I was more focused on trying to control myself than pleasing the audience. But I could feel my boss's red hot stare burning through my side and smiled shakily once more. I lifted my hand to give a goodbye wave and then...

POP.

My underwear and pants we're full of the head and soaked with birth fluid. I didn't even notice my body was pushing as hard as it was as my desperation reached its peak. The crowd gasped as my hand flew down to cup the baby, water trickled out of me in a steady stream. My boss looked at me in shock before covering his mic with a fist.

"Did you just piss yourself like an untrained toddler? You couldn't hold it?" He hissed in rage. I was ruining his big day but I could care less at the moment.

I took two shaky steps towards the backstage but the shoulders bulged and I couldn't go any further. I gave in, running on pure maternal instinct and frantically began unclasping my belt. My trembling hands made it all the more difficult but I was able to take it off and throw it to the side.

"I'm having the baby." I groaned to nobody and everybody.

"What?"

And now I was working on my buckle and zipper, babbling incoherently and unable to think about anything but dropping. "I'm having... I'm-I'm giving birth. It's out. It's out!"

My pants fell to the ground and my baby followed soon after, hitting the floor of the stage with a wet plop as it gushed out and landed in a huge puddle of amniotic fluid. I stood there with my hands on my knees, pants and underwear pooled around my ankles, and a blue cord that connected me to the big baby that squirmed and wailed on the hard floor hanging out of my pussy. I wheezed and hyperventilated while the crowd gasped and took out their phones to record.

I looked back at my boss and could tell he was annoyed. He merely wanted the world to see me large and due with his babe but didn't expect me to pop it out even though he'd fucked me will into labor the night before.

Paramedics rushed to the stage. The crew must have called them when I initially announced that it was coming. I lifted my leg as they crowded me and my huge baby that screamed on the cold floor. The cord was cut and I heard my boss sigh heavily over the mic while he watched the commotion his child caused.

"I apologize for the inconvenience on their behalf, everyone." He said while looking at me with sheer disappointment before resuming the presentation. "Now, where was I?"

[starsofjewels]

Mama, Papa and Baby Too

Ramsay Snow (Bolton) x Lady Bolton! Reader, Roose Bolton x Lady Bolton! Reader

NSFW!!

Any and all characters depicted in NSFW pieces are of legal age. All characters are also consenting (Unless specificed by piece)

Please read responsibly.

DARK FIC: This piece includes or is focused around a situation some readers may find uncomfortable or disturbing. Know your limits and keep yourself safe.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Incest (Stepmother x stepchild), non-descriptive/ implied incest (father x child), voyeurism, breastfeeding, foreplay (fingering + handjob), riding (Roose), Little(-ish) Ramsay, non-descriptive mention of assault (in regard to Ramsay's conception)

The Boltons are their own warning

MASTERPOST - Dark Fic section

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I've never published any smut before, so why not, in true GOT fashion, start off with a weird little incest-ridden oneshot? The gods may smite me, but Ramsay is still my baby boy, so here we are.

I apologise in advance for this characterisation of Ramsay, even though I fear it fits his character exceptionally well.

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Word count: 2.5k

You had known your stepson was unstable since before you had wed his father. A bastard boy conceived out of rape, raised by an insane servant until his mother grew tired of him, and threw him on the steps of the Dreadfort. Anyone in the North could recount the stories surrounding Ramsay Snow, how he tormented the serving girls in his father’s employ, commanding his pack of dogs to tear flesh from the servants’ bones, and naming each new pup after a girl he had slain. How he burned, and destroyed, and caused so much havoc across the Dreadfort and the lands surrounding it.

When you first arrived, to be married to the boy’s father, your maids told you, with varying levels of excitement, what he had done to Roose’s previous wife, and their only surviving son. Supposedly, your new stepson had tortured Lady Bethany to the point of insanity, to a degree that her hair fell from her scalp and her skin flaked. Her only living son, Domeric, had a worse fate still, succumbing to an ‘illness’ commonly believed to be poison in the hands of his jealous half-brother.

You are given a silver dagger to hide in your skirts, and told to not use it sparingly. Ramsay is unpredictable, and cruel, and Roose will not try to stop him. 

Roose does not allow you to meet him until after the wedding. The day you finally do, the staff refuse to look at you, or speak with you as they usually would. You are taken care of, of course, fed, and bathed, dressed in Bolton pink. You feel like a sacrifice, being made-up to appease some vicious god. 

“Sit, wife.” 

It is not a question, but you answer anyway.

“I have no need to sit, lord husband.”

You watch him roll his eyes, fixing himself a little. You stand in silence for a good few moments, until you hear unfamiliar footsteps, which you assume belong to your stepson. 

Ramsay stops in the doorway, eyeing you up as you are sure his dogs do their prey. You want so badly to reach out and take Roose’s hand, or run off. But there is no comfort for you, not now. You know your fate here, and it is not to be coddled like a doll.

He steps closer to you, and again, and again, until you can clearly see his cold, blue eyes in the dim light, sizing you up, as though he can tell exactly how to torment you.

Instead of striking you, or grasping at your hair and pulling, Ramsay cautiously wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder. You gasp in surprise, expecting far worse. Glancing up at Roose, you see his brow furrow in apparent confusion, he goes to speak, Ramsay does first.

“Mama…”

He sounds like a pathetic little boy, a baby, and some part of your heart is filled by it. He takes your hand in his and puts it to his own head, and you stroke his curls as he seems to want you to. The boy preens at this, pushing himself further into the embrace.

“It seems the boy likes you, dear.”

You almost smile at his words, looking down to the boy, still hiding away in your hair.

“Aye, it does seem that way.”

Roose has shown no signs of affection towards you before, much less openly giving you pet names. You try to ignore it, putting it to the side as a one-off, a part of his surprise towards Ramsay’s affection towards you.

Your stepson stays attached to your hip for the rest of the evening. He follows you everywhere, insisting he cannot do anything without you, and although you understand the oddness of the situation, if this is what it takes to prevent yourself having the same fate as Lady Bethany, you are willing to indulge the monster. 

He practically squeals in delight when you give him a sip from your wine when his father is not looking, having been barred from partaking after sunset following a particularly violent drunken escapade, the one sliver of actual parenting Roose had enforced. 

By the time he is ready to retire, he is squished up beside you in your chambers, practically on your lap. You are distracted from your sewing by him gently butting into you, trying to grasp your attention. Looking out at the dark night outside your window, you glance back at Ramsay, already nearing sleep.

You sigh, setting him up on the unused side of your bed. It takes barely a moment for him to shuffle across the sheets and wrap himself around you, clinging like a baby. There is no point in denying him, part of you knows he would sneak in later, anyway.

Eventually, Roose comes to you, dressed in his nightclothes. He has never spent the night with you before, much less in your own rooms. He slips in beside his bastard, watching the two of you with mild curiosity.

“You’re good with him.”

“Thank you.”

He scoffs slightly, leaning back against the headboard to look down on the sleeping Ramsay.

“I have never seen him like this. He’ll be asking to suckle from you next, dearest.”

There it was again, a small hint of your husband’s affections for you. You are terribly glad the dim night hides the blush on your cheeks.

“He would not!”

You can make out Roose nodding his head.

“Really? He’s a man grown, Roose.”

“As if that could stop him. Keep yourself clothed around him, no matter how much you trust him, He’s a mischievous one, our Ramsay. Give him a chance and he might pounce.”

You feel Ramsay smile against your chest, and you realise he’s not yet fallen asleep. Summoning your best act, you look at your husband with mock surprise,

“My boy? Oh, I find that hard to believe, lord husband. Is he not just an angel?”

Ramsay tucks himself tighter against you, and a smile finds itself upon your lips. You kiss his curls gently, the boy giggles, glad that you consider him to be your own.

-    -

The night, though young, is dark. As the Stark words always say, winter is coming. You can feel it in the cold, in the way the trees tilt in the breeze. You rest your head against Roose’s chest. The flames and your furs keep the room almost uncomfortably warm. You are the lady of the Dreadfort, after, you of all people must be shielded from the oncoming trials of winter. 

The storm outside is bitter and cruel. The wind is harsh, and you are certain trees will have fallen by the morning. Every so often, if you try particularly hard, you can hear your son’s dogs howling at the weather from the kennels. You turn, your back now to Roose. He reaches his arm around you, holding you closely to him. 

And your moment of intimacy, in less than a second, is ruined by the gentle tap of a hand against your bedroom door. Just from the sound of it, you know exactly who it is. You smile softly,

“Come in, darling.”

Ramsay shuffles into your bedchamber, like a child, a pout on his face which you can see from the light of the fire beside him. He is dressed in his nightshirt, his hair messy, and you know that you are in for a long night.

“Want to sleep here, Mama.”

He makes no effort to speak to your husband, not when his precious mother is waiting for him. Though Roose attempts to grasp your arms, you reach out for Ramsay, and he leaps into your bed. Before long, he has wrangled you onto your back, snuggling viciously into your chest. His attachment to you has only grown in the months you have spent as his mother, to a degree many might consider unsettling.

“Oh, love, did the storm scare you?”

The boy nods weakly, just the hint of a smile ghosting his face. His father scoffs,

“He is not a babe, my dear, the boy can manage a bit of wind.”

Ramsay glares at his father, before going back to affectionately nuzzling you. You stroke his cheek gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It is very late, Ramsay. You should try and get to sleep now.”

He shakes his head,

“Nuh. Can’t.”

Roose sighs, having given up completely, resting his head back against his pillow. Though your hands are preoccupied by the Ramsay in your arms, you lean over to kiss his cheek, something of an apology.

“Why can’t you sleep, darling?”

“I’m hungry, Mama,” He practically pleads, “I can’t sleep if I’m still hungry.”

This is always his excuse. Hunger. You think the boy must have a stomach the size of the Riverlands for how much he complains of it. But, you know his excuse well, and what it always ends with. So you smile, sweetly, and lean closer to his face.

“And what does the master want for his supper, then?”

He practically paws at your breast, begging with his big eyes, almost whimpering.

“Milk, please. Milk, Mama.”

You sigh affectionately, pressing another kiss to his face, and letting him tug down your nightdress. 

“Just a little to settle your stomach, and then off to sleep, alright?”

“I promise, Mama.”

Though you are yet to have a babe of your own, Ramsay’s consistent suckling has eventually caused your breasts to swell, your body preparing its hardest for a baby who is, in fact, a grown man. This delights your boy, of course, who could spend the rest of his days living off of nothing but the milk you’ve provided him.

He is enthralled when you help his mouth find your nipple, suckling immediately. His brow furrows, waiting impatiently for his reward. He groans when your milk touches his lips, snuggling you more, mumbling thanks, or praise, or something hidden by his face buried in your breast. 

You hear Roose shuffling. He sits up, and roughly pets his son’s hair. Ramsay’s eyes flick open, he glared again at his father, relaxing as you shush him gently,

“You’re alright, sweetling. Mama’s here.”

Ramsay moans again, and you feel him shift against your leg. Roose makes a laughing sound from the back of his throat.

“Someone is in need of a little affection, Mama.” He teases lightly, nipping at your neck. His stubble is rough, adding to your sensitivity. “Perhaps you should take care of our boy, and I’ll look after you.”

“I want to look after Mama!”

The boy has detached from you, pouting once more. You kiss his nose, wiping some of the milk from his mouth,

“You are looking after Mama by being a good, quiet boy. Let Papa have a turn, hm?”

He grumbles, but goes back to your breast, suckling again.

Roose, ever pragmatic, slips his hands quickly between your thighs, delving two fingers at a time into your cunt. He chuckles again at how ready you are, continuing to spread kisses up your neck,

“You get your mother in such a state, Ramsay. Here, taste.”

Your husband puts his finger to your son, you whine at the loss of pleasure, and the boy cleans it off as a starving dog. He looks from his father, to you, and snuggles up against you.

“Milk is tastier.”

And you cannot help but smile, quickly replaced by another gasped moan as Roose goes back to his previous activities. You take his hand, leading him up to your clit with no words spoken. The two of you have an understanding now. In between your groans and little twitches, you notice how Ramsay’s heart rate gets faster, how he grinds just a little against you. 

“Ramsay?”

A pause.

“Mama?”

“Do you need help there, sweetling?”

He whimpers, having been caught, but nods anyway. You help him shift his nightshirt up to his hips, and carefully find his cock with your free hand. Your boy moans immediately, his hips buck, and he looks up at you with a sense of pleading. He whimpers,

“Mama… more…”

“Soon, my sweet boy. Enjoy your milk.”

You stroke him in a soft, rhythmic pattern, making sure to pay just enough attention to his weepy head to keep the boy on edge. Roose continues to tease you, you gasp every so often, reaching out for him, groaning his name. You come first, stopping your movements upon Ramsay to grip Roose’s arm, crying out for him. Ramsay takes your hand, trying to help. You kiss your husband softly, and then return your affections upon Ramsay. Roose leans back, watching.

You wrap your hand around Ramsay’s cock just the way he likes, and his nails dig into your arm. The boy nips on your breast as he comes, moaning with a mouth full of milk. Most of his mess is caught by his nightshirt, which makes him much easier to clean off. Once he has calmed down just a little, you slide him off you. He cries out, still complaining even as you shush him.

“Papa deserves a treat, too, don’t you, Papa?”

“I do.”

You sit Ramsay up, tired and comfortable, and the two of you share a private laugh as you straddle him, sinking yourself quickly upon his cock. There is no time for play, not when you have been so worked up by the evening’s activities. He moans, and you remember the man behind his cold demeanour. The one who loves you, who desires you even more than your son does.

“My- Careful, love- We are not a rutting dog, are we?”

“Hm- Your fault for being such a tease, Roose…”

He scoffs, replaced quickly by another groan. It is, indeed, his fault for teasing you. You bury your face in his neck, and bite down upon it. He moans out in surprise, jolting suddenly. The action is enough to send him over the edge, and he finishes inside of you, just as a self-respecting lord should. 

Ramsay, naked, bathed and half-asleep, lies on one side of you, Roose on the other. You are the lady of the house, after all, you deserve to be treated as such. Ramsay snuggles into your chest again, full and sated.

“Hm- How is my big boy?”

Instinctually, you reach out to rub his stomach, which seems to settle him,

“Sleepy- Mama…”

“Then sleep, silly boy. Mama will be right here.”

It takes him a little longer to drift off, but you can tell, as you boy goes limp, almost drooling against your shoulder. Roose kisses your hair affectionately.

“He really does love you, dearest.”

“Mh. He’s happy, and so are you. That’s all I care about.”

“Everyone is happy tonight. Mama, Papa and Baby too.”

You give him a tired laugh, and kiss your son’s forehead. Feeling yourself begin to sleep,

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Hm- Love you.”

[w1w2]

Number One Girl

Part 2 of Stay A Little Longer

Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 10k

Synopsis: Two years after their painful breakup, Y/N and Roseanne cross paths again, reigniting unresolved emotions and a love they thought was lost.

Rosé - number one girl "Your one and only So what's it gon' take for you to want me?"

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

October arrived with a crisp chill, painting Seoul in hues of amber and gold. Y/N sat on the edge of her sofa, nursing a warm cup of tea as the sun dipped below the skyline, its fading light spilling into her apartment. The room exuded quiet comfort, the kind of space carefully curated to feel like home, but even its warmth couldn’t banish the faint ache in her chest.

Two years had passed since she packed her life into boxes and walked away from the only person who had ever truly known her. Yet, the memory of Roseanne lingered like a bittersweet melody, refusing to fade completely.

Y/N traced the rim of her mug absently, her gaze fixed on the framed photograph sitting on the bookshelf across the room. It was one of the few relics she hadn’t packed away after their breakup. The image was of Hank, Rosie’s dog, sitting between them on a bright summer day. Their smiles in the picture were carefree, unguarded. It hurt to look at it, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide it away.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting her from her thoughts. She reached for it, her brows furrowing as a flood of notifications lit up the screen.

“Rosé’s New Single Featuring Bruno Mars Takes Charts by Storm!”

“Party Anthem of the Year: Rosé Dominates with Latest Release!”

Y/N clicked on one of the headlines almost reflexively. A glossy photo of Roseanne lit up the screen, her radiant smile and confident aura commanding attention. The article praised her electrifying performance and the catchy hook of her new single, calling it a global sensation. Y/N’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite herself. She could almost hear Rosie’s voice, layered over the infectious beat, as she read the glowing reviews.

Scrolling further, she found a video clip of an interview. Against her better judgment, she pressed play. Roseanne appeared on screen, her blonde hair falling in effortless waves around her face. She looked poised but carried a familiar warmth in her demeanor as she talked about the creative process behind the song.

“It’s a little different from what I’ve done before,” Roseanne admitted with a laugh. “But I wanted something fun, something that made people want to move.”

The sight of her, so vibrant, so magnetic, sent a pang through Y/N’s chest. She set the phone down, staring at the floor as memories stirred unbidden.

The nights spent in their tiny apartment came rushing back. Roseanne perched on the couch with her guitar, the melody of an unfinished song drifting through the room, Y/N’s attempts to distract her with jokes, or bribe her with takeout when the creative process ran long. The way Rosie’s laughter would fill the space, a sound Y/N once thought she could never live without.

Her chest tightened. She shook her head, willing the memories away. What was the point of dwelling on a past she couldn’t change?

The shrill ring of her phone cut through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen. Jennie.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before answering. “Hey, Jen.”

“Hey, stranger,” Jennie’s familiar voice chimed on the other end, cheerful and warm. The sound was a welcome break in Y/N’s otherwise quiet evening, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Don’t tell me you’re working late again.”

“I’m not,” Y/N replied, sinking further into the couch and tucking her legs beneath her. “Just… having a quiet evening.”

Jennie hummed knowingly, a playful lilt in her voice. “You? Quiet evening? That’s code for sulking alone with Netflix and takeout, isn’t it?”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “You caught me. Minus the takeout.”

“Well, I’ve got the perfect way to change that,” Jennie declared. There was a note of triumph in her tone, as if she had been planning this all along. “I’m hosting a little gathering this weekend at my house. Just a small thing with close friends. Good food, good drinks, no pressure.”

Y/N leaned her head against the back of the couch, letting the words sink in. She could already picture Jennie in her kitchen, effortlessly juggling appetizers and cocktails while effortlessly charming everyone in the room. The image was comforting, but the idea of being around people again still gave her pause.

“I don’t know, Jennie,” she said hesitantly, her voice soft. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone to something like that.”

“That’s exactly why you should come,” Jennie pressed, her voice dropping into that persuasive tone Y/N knew too well. “You’ve been holed up for way too long. Besides, it’s not a big party or anything. Just us, close friends, no drama, no stress. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Y/N bit her lip, toying with the edge of the blanket draped over her lap. She knew Jennie meant well, and a part of her did want to go. It had been too long since she’d seen Jennie, too long since she’d let herself just… exist in the company of others.

After the breakup, Jennie had been a lifeline. She was the one who dragged Y/N out of bed on her worst days, who sent random memes to make her laugh, who showed up with coffee and snacks when Y/N needed them most. Jennie had been one of the few constants in Y/N’s life when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

Y/N sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll come.”

“Yes!” Jennie’s excited cheer was so loud that Y/N had to pull the phone away from her ear. “I promise you won’t regret it. And dress cute, I know you’ve been living in sweatpants, but this is a chance to remind everyone how amazing you are. Got it?”

“Got it,” Y/N replied, laughing softly at Jennie’s relentless enthusiasm.

“Great! I’ll text you the details. See you then!”

The call ended with a click, leaving Y/N staring at her phone. For the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of anticipation broke through the lingering melancholy that had become her constant companion. She set the phone down and leaned back against the cushions, her mind already racing with thoughts about the weekend.

She trusted Jennie to keep things relaxed, to make the evening as effortless as she had promised. And though Y/N was apprehensive about stepping out of her cocoon of solitude, she also felt a small, hopeful spark at the idea of reconnecting with old friends.

What Y/N didn’t know, what Jennie hadn’t mentioned, was that Roseanne would also be there.

Jennie’s villa stood like a beacon of modern luxury in the heart of UN Village, its large windows spilling warm golden light into the cool October evening. Y/N approached the entrance with hesitant steps, adjusting the sleeves of her suit jacket. The outfit was simple yet striking, a fitted, single-button blazer in a deep charcoal gray paired with cropped trousers and a soft cream blouse left casually untucked at one side. Her choice of white sneakers added a laid-back edge, balancing the look between casual and elegant.

She paused to smooth her hair, inhaling deeply before stepping up to the door. The crisp evening air carried faint hints of autumn leaves and laughter from inside, a stark contrast to the quiet she had grown used to.

Jennie greeted her the moment she stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately sweeping over Y/N with an approving smile. “Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence!”

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly but couldn’t help smiling. “You act like I’m impossible to get a hold of.”

“You practically are,” Jennie teased, pulling her into a warm hug. As she stepped back, her gaze lingered appreciatively. “But seriously, you look amazing. Who knew you could make a suit look that good?”

A flush crept up Y/N’s neck, and she laughed softly. “Just trying something different.”

“Well, keep doing it,” Jennie said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s. “Now, come on. I have to show you off, and make sure you grab a drink before the others steal all my attention.”

The villa was alive with energy. Guests filled the spacious living room and spilled out onto the terrace, where a fire pit crackled beneath the night sky. Soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the sound of glasses clinking and cheerful chatter. Y/N recognized several familiar faces: Irene and Seulgi of Red Velvet chatting by the bar, Nayeon and Jihyo from Twice laughing over drinks, and the unmistakable presence of actress Hoyeon Jung, effortlessly stunning in a tailored suit.

Jennie guided her through the crowd, expertly navigating the lively buzz of the gathering. With each stop, she introduced Y/N to a mix of familiar faces and new ones, her effortless charm putting everyone at ease. “Help yourself to anything,” Jennie said after a brief introduction to an indie actor Y/N vaguely recognized. She gestured toward the lavish spread of food and drinks set up in the dining area. “Seriously, make yourself at home, okay? No standing awkwardly in corners allowed.”

Y/N chuckled and nodded, appreciating Jennie’s genuine warmth and the gentle nudge. But even as she made her way to the long table laden with delicate appetizers and sparkling drinks, the faint unease in her chest refused to dissipate.

The villa was alive with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere light and inviting. Yet, as Y/N reached for a glass of wine, her fingers brushed against the stem awkwardly, betraying the nervous energy she was trying to suppress. She scanned the room, the elegant furnishings and glimmering lights blending into a soft blur of activity.

She tried to shake it off, telling herself it was just the unfamiliarity of being around so many people again. But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

After browsing the appetizers, choosing a small plate more for something to do than actual hunger, Y/N slipped toward the terrace doors. The cool glass felt grounding beneath her fingertips as she stepped just shy of the threshold, a glass of wine in hand. She watched the guests gathered outside, their laughter rising against the backdrop of the flickering fire pit. The golden light danced over their faces, casting warm, moving shadows.

The open air and soft hum of conversation were comforting. She exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders relax for the first time that evening. Maybe Jennie was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

Her mind began to drift as she sipped her wine. Flashes of memories bubbled up, late nights spent laughing in another cozy setting, another warm space filled with music and quiet intimacy. Y/N quickly shook the thoughts away, focusing instead on the present, the firelight, the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the terrace railing.

She was just beginning to let the tension melt when it happened, a subtle shift in the energy of the room.

It was almost imperceptible at first, like the faintest ripple in still water. A hushed pause in conversations, a collective glance toward the entryway. And then Y/N felt it, the unmistakable pull of a presence she had spent two years trying to forget.

Roseanne had arrived.

The air seemed to hum with her arrival, her presence magnetic even in a room full of stars. Dressed in an effortlessly chic ensemble, a fitted black turtleneck paired with a high-waisted silk skirt that shimmered faintly in the light, she carried herself with quiet confidence. Her blonde waves framed her face perfectly, and the soft glow of the villa’s lights highlighted the delicate contours of her features.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes met across the room.

The world seemed to narrow in that moment, all noise fading into a distant hum. Roseanne’s polite smile faltered, just briefly, as her gaze locked with Y/N’s. Her almond-shaped eyes held a mixture of emotions Y/N couldn’t quite place, surprise, maybe even longing.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass, her pulse quickening. She turned her attention back to the terrace, feigning interest in the view, but her heart raced in her chest. The ease she had begun to feel moments ago evaporated, replaced by the familiar ache she had been trying to bury.

Jennie greeted Roseanne warmly, pulling her into a brief hug before steering her toward the group by the bar. Y/N could feel her presence even from a distance, the hum of tension now impossible to ignore.

She took a steadying sip of her wine, willing herself to stay calm. This was just a coincidence, she told herself. A moment she could navigate with poise, no matter what emotions it stirred within her.

But as she turned her gaze back toward the room, the weight of Roseanne’s arrival lingered, like a chord unresolved.

“Y/N,” Irene called from nearby, her warm voice cutting through the haze of Y/N’s thoughts. “Come join us!”

Y/N blinked, jolted out of her daze. She turned to see Irene standing with few others by the bar, her hand raised in a beckoning gesture. Grateful for the distraction, Y/N forced a smile and made her way over, her steps steady despite the nervous energy swirling within her.

“Thought you were going to hide by the terrace all night,” Irene teased as Y/N approached.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Y/N replied with a soft laugh, raising her glass in mock defense.

Seulgi grinned, her relaxed demeanor immediately putting Y/N at ease. “Jennie would drag you back if you tried.”

“That sounds about right,” Y/N said, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

The group’s conversation flowed easily, a mix of lighthearted jokes and anecdotes. Irene shared a funny story about an ill-timed wardrobe malfunction during a recent performance, drawing laughter from everyone, including Y/N. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to relax, letting the warmth of the group’s camaraderie wash over her.

But no matter how much she tried to stay present, her focus kept straying back to Roseanne.

She was across the room now, standing near Jennie and Hoyeon. The soft rise and fall of her laughter floated over the hum of conversations, faint but unmistakable. Y/N’s eyes found her almost instinctively, tracing the graceful way Roseanne gestured with her hands as she spoke, the subtle tilt of her head when she listened.

Roseanne’s smile, polite and poised, reminded Y/N of countless moments they had shared, from quiet nights on their couch to bursts of laughter over shared inside jokes. It was a smile that had once belonged solely to Y/N, and the ache of seeing it from a distance now was almost too much to bear.

“Earth to Y/N,” Irene’s voice cut in, her tone amused.

Y/N startled slightly, realizing Irene’s sharp gaze was fixed on her. “Sorry, what?”

Seulgi smirked knowingly, glancing in the direction Y/N had been looking. “You’ve been quiet. Not like you.”

“I’m just… tired,” Y/N lied, taking a sip of her wine to mask her unease.

“Right,” Irene said, her tone suggesting she didn’t believe a word of it. But she didn’t push, instead steering the conversation back toward lighter topics.

As the group dissolved into another round of jokes, Y/N laughed along, though the sound felt hollow in her chest. Her gaze drifted back toward Roseanne again, unbidden, and she caught a fleeting moment where their eyes met across the room. Roseanne’s expression softened, a flicker of something Y/N couldn’t quite name crossing her features before she turned back to Jennie.

Y/N tore her gaze away, her pulse quickening. She could feel the weight of her unresolved emotions settling over her like a heavy blanket. No amount of light conversation or laughter could dull it, no matter how much she tried.

Their first exchange of the evening came unexpectedly. Y/N was returning from the kitchen with a glass of water, her fingers cool against the condensation on the glass, when she turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry—” she began instinctively, but the words caught in her throat as she looked up.

It was Roseanne.

Y/N’s breath hitched as her eyes met Roseanne’s, a rush of familiarity crashing over her like a wave. Roseanne stood close, too close, her floral perfume filling the small space between them. It was the same scent Y/N remembered from countless quiet mornings and shared embraces, stirring memories she had worked so hard to bury.

“Hey,” Roseanne said quietly, her voice low and tentative.

The single syllable felt like a thread pulling at Y/N’s carefully stitched-together composure. “Hi,” she managed, though her pulse quickened as if her body had yet to catch up with her calm tone.

For a moment, they simply stood there, caught in a silent bubble that felt removed from the laughter and music echoing through the villa. The air between them was charged, thick with unspoken words and emotions that neither seemed ready to voice.

Roseanne’s eyes softened, something unreadable flickering across her features as she looked at Y/N. There was a tension in her expression, a hesitance that belied the confidence she carried so effortlessly in front of others.

“You look…” Roseanne began, pausing briefly as if searching for the right words. “Good.” Her tone was careful, almost fragile, as though testing the waters of an unfamiliar sea.

Y/N’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her grip on the glass in her hand tightened. “Thanks. You too,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

Roseanne’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before flicking to the glass in Y/N’s hand. She shifted slightly, stepping back enough to give Y/N space to pass. The sound of laughter from the living room spilled into the hallway, breaking the fragile stillness between them.

Y/N hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She wanted to say something, anything, to fill the silence. But her mind was a jumble of racing thoughts and emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Roseanne broke the moment with a small, almost shy smile. “It’s… good to see you.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, a bittersweet pang settling in her chest. She nodded, her own smile faint. “You too.”

And then it was over.

Y/N stepped past her, her footsteps steady but her heart pounding in disarray. She didn’t dare look back, but she felt Roseanne’s gaze on her as she walked away, a weight she couldn’t ignore.

As she reentered the lively atmosphere of the living room, the hum of conversation and music felt distant, muffled against the storm brewing inside her. The brief exchange played over and over in her mind, a kaleidoscope of emotions she couldn’t sort through.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of half-hearted conversations and stolen glances. Y/N noticed Jennie watching them once or twice, her sharp eyes flicking between the two women with a knowing look. But Jennie said nothing, choosing instead to redirect attention when the tension threatened to become too obvious.

As the party began to wind down, Y/N found herself retreating to one of the smaller sitting rooms at the back of the villa. The cozy space was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere outside, its dim lighting and soft furnishings offering a quiet reprieve from the noise and energy of the gathering.

She sank into a plush armchair by the window, her gaze drawn to the garden bathed in moonlight. The soft glow illuminated the neat rows of hedges and the faint silhouettes of flowers swaying gently in the night breeze. She tried to let the stillness calm her, but the ache in her chest refused to fade.

Her thoughts spiraled, unbidden and relentless, back to Roseanne. The way her eyes had softened when they met, the faint hesitance in her voice, the magnetic pull that made it impossible for Y/N to ignore her presence. Even now, two years later, Roseanne had a way of unraveling her carefully constructed defenses with nothing more than a glance.

The soft creak of the door opening broke her reverie. Y/N turned, her breath hitching as Roseanne stepped inside, her movements slow and hesitant, as though unsure of her welcome.

“Mind if I join you?” Roseanne asked, her voice barely above a whisper, fragile yet filled with something unmistakably raw.

Y/N hesitated, her chest tightening as a torrent of emotions surged within her. She wanted to say no, to shield herself from the vulnerability that Roseanne always seemed to bring out in her. But instead, she nodded.

Roseanne crossed the room, her steps tentative, and took the seat opposite Y/N. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, stretching between them like a chasm filled with all the words they had never said, all the emotions they had left unresolved.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Roseanne said finally, her hands resting nervously on her lap. Her gaze lingered on her fingers, which fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, betraying her unease.

“Neither was I,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft but steady.

The corner of Roseanne’s mouth twitched, a faint, humorless smile. “Jennie invited me. I almost didn’t come.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering through her guarded expression. “Why?”

Roseanne looked up, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely audible. “Because I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing you.”

The raw honesty of her words hit Y/N like a blow, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap, and swallowed hard. “Rosie…” she began, but the words faltered. She didn’t know what to say.

Roseanne leaned back slightly, her gaze distant. “I thought it would get easier,” she said quietly. “You know… being apart. But it hasn’t. Not for me.”

The confession sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over Y/N. She felt her chest tighten, her heart pounding in a chaotic rhythm as she grappled with her feelings. For two years, she had tried to convince herself that moving on was the right thing, that their love had been too fractured to fix. And yet, sitting here now, facing the woman she had never truly stopped loving, those justifications felt hollow.

“I miss you,” Roseanne said suddenly, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her words. They hung in the air between them, sharp and piercing, cutting through the layers of silence and unresolved tension.

Y/N’s breath hitched. She had imagined this moment countless times, wondering what it would feel like to hear those words again. But now that they were here, she felt unmoored, adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

“I—” she began, her voice trembling. She looked away, her gaze fixed on the window. The garden beyond blurred into a hazy smear of moonlight and shadow.

“I’m not saying it to make things harder,” Roseanne continued, her voice soft but firm. “I just… needed you to know. Even if it doesn’t change anything.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her chest aching as the weight of Roseanne’s words settled over her. Memories flooded her mind, of quiet nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms, of shared laughter, of whispered promises that had once felt unbreakable. She forced herself to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Rosie, I…” she trailed off, shaking her head. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair, as if anchoring herself. “I don’t know what to say.”

Roseanne nodded slowly, her lips curving into a sad, resigned smile. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the unspoken weight of their shared history. Y/N’s mind raced with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t, words of longing, regret, and a love that refused to fade no matter how hard she tried to let go.

Finally, Y/N stood, her movements deliberate but heavy. “I should get back to the party,” she said quietly, the words feeling like a lie even as she said them.

Roseanne’s expression fell, her hands tightening briefly in her lap before she nodded. Her voice was small, almost broken, as she replied, “Yeah. Of course.”

Y/N hesitated, lingering for a moment longer than she should have. She wanted to reach out, to touch Roseanne’s hand, to say something that might ease the ache in both their hearts. But the weight of the past, the wounds they had inflicted on each other, kept her rooted in place.

As she turned and left the room, her chest ached with the weight of what had just transpired. The conversation played over in her mind, raw and unresolved, as she rejoined the others. Her steps felt heavier with each stride, as though she were walking away from more than just the room.

And behind her, Roseanne sat alone, her gaze fixed on the empty chair Y/N had left behind.

November brought with it the icy chill of Seoul’s late autumn, the sharp air cutting through Y/N’s layers as she returned home one evening. She had spent the day busying herself with errands and work, the usual distractions that helped her keep her thoughts at bay. But as she set her keys down on the kitchen counter, her phone buzzed on the table, breaking the silence.

Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the screen, an unfamiliar number lighting up the notification. Hesitantly, she picked up the phone and opened the message.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Roseanne. I’ve been battling myself since the party, wondering if I should send you this. But I just released a new song, and I wrote it thinking of you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

A link was attached to the text. Y/N stared at the message, her heart thundering in her chest. Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts swirling as she debated what to do.

Her finger hovered over the link, the urge to ignore it battling with her insatiable curiosity. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she tapped it, the familiar interface of her music app opening.

The title stared back at her ‘Number One Girl’

Y/N pressed play, the first delicate notes filling the quiet room. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, wrapping around her like an embrace she wasn’t sure she could accept. Her chest tightened as the vulnerability in the music seeped into her.

And then Roseanne’s voice broke through, achingly familiar, raw, and heartbreakingly sincere.

“Tell me that I’m special, tell me I look pretty Tell me I’m a little angel, sweetheart of your city Say what I’m dying to hear, ‘Cause I’m dying to hear you”

The first line hit like a whisper of the past, bringing with it an ache so profound that Y/N almost couldn’t breathe. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers trembling as she set her phone down on the table, afraid that holding it might somehow shatter her already fragile composure.

Each word unfolded like a confession, pulling at the threads of emotions she had spent two years trying to suppress. Y/N blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as her heart began to pound in her chest.

And then the chorus rose, swelling with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil inside her. “Isn’t it lonely? I’d do anything to make you want me I’d give it all up if you told me that I’d be The number one girl in your eyes”

The room seemed to tilt, the raw longing in Roseanne’s voice cutting through Y/N like a blade. She closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the table for support as waves of emotions crashed over her.

Memories surged, vivid and unrelenting.

She saw Roseanne standing in their kitchen, her hair tied back in a loose bun, laughing as she tried and failed to flip a pancake. She felt the warmth of Roseanne’s hands cupping her cheeks, the softness of her whispered reassurances on nights when Y/N doubted herself. She heard their shared laughter, the sound ringing in her ears like a melody she thought she’d forgotten.

But just as quickly, the memories turned darker, cutting deeper. She remembered the arguments, the way Roseanne’s voice would crack with frustration, and the empty space on the couch between them that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

The next verse hit with a different intensity, each line unraveling another thread of Y/N’s carefully constructed resolve. “Tell me that you need me, tell me that I’m loved Tell me that I’m worth it, and that I’m enough”

Y/N’s fingers trembled against the table, her vision swimming with tears. Roseanne’s words felt like a mirror to everything she had longed to hear during their relationship, the words that could have bridged the growing distance between them but had always remained unspoken.

Her chest ached as she let the lyrics wash over her. The raw yearning in Roseanne’s voice wasn’t just an echo of the past. It was a reflection of Y/N’s own buried feelings, the ones she had been too scared to admit even to herself.

“I need it and I don’t know why This late at night”

A sob broke free from her chest, unbidden and raw. She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if to stifle the sound, but it was no use. Her tears fell freely now, each lyric prying open the wounds she had tried so desperately to heal.

The vulnerability in Roseanne’s voice was overwhelming. It wasn’t just a song. It was a plea, a confession, a love letter written in melodies and aching words. Y/N’s heart twisted painfully, caught between the sweetness of what they had shared and the bitterness of what they had lost.

By the time the bridge arrived, Roseanne’s voice softened into a near whisper, as if speaking directly to Y/N. “The girl in your eyes, the girl in your eyes Tell me I’m the number one girl I’m the number one girl in your eyes…”

Y/N clutched at her chest, the weight of the lyrics pressing down on her until it felt like she might break apart. The words echoed in her mind, intertwining with the memory of Roseanne’s gaze at the party, the vulnerability in her eyes, the quiet longing in her voice when she had said, “I miss you.”

As the final note faded, the silence that followed felt deafening. Y/N sat motionless, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. Her phone screen dimmed, leaving the room bathed in a faint glow, but the echoes of Roseanne’s voice lingered like a ghost, haunting and inescapable.

The lyrics repeated in her mind, intertwining with the memories she thought she had buried. “I’d give it all up if you told me that I’d be the number one girl in your eyes”

It was too much. The dam of emotions she had held back for so long had finally burst, and Y/N found herself sobbing into her hands, her tears falling hot and fast. Roseanne’s words, her voice, her love, they had stripped away every wall Y/N had built, leaving her raw and exposed.

Y/N stared at her phone, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. Roseanne’s message replayed in her mind “I wrote it for you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

A part of her wanted to ignore it, to leave the song and the emotions it stirred behind. But the truth was undeniable, she couldn’t escape the feelings she had buried, the love she had tried so hard to let go of.

She stood abruptly, pacing the length of her kitchen as her thoughts raced. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her mind replaying Roseanne’s voice over and over. She thought of the party a month ago, the way Roseanne had looked at her, the quiet vulnerability in her words.

Y/N stopped pacing, her breath uneven as she gripped her phone tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest, the echoes of Roseanne’s voice still ringing in her ears. She couldn’t avoid this anymore. She didn’t want to.

Her thumb hovered over her screen, trembling as she scrolled through her contacts. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, and for a moment, she hesitated, her finger pausing over Jennie’s name. What would she even say? The weight of everything she was feeling threatened to pull her under, but the thought of letting this moment slip away was unbearable.

She pressed the call button before she could talk herself out of it. The line rang twice, each chime a painful reminder of the enormity of what she was about to do.

Jennie’s voice came through, warm and tinged with curiosity. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Y/N exhaled shakily, her words spilling out in a rush before she could second-guess them. “I need Roseanne’s address.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, the kind that felt heavy with unspoken questions. Jennie’s voice softened when she spoke again, now laced with concern. “Wait… What? Y/N, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice cracking as the vulnerability she’d been holding back spilled over. She ran a hand through her hair, the motion almost frantic as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I just… I need to see her, Jennie. Please.”

The words hung in the air, raw and desperate. Y/N’s chest ached with the weight of them, as if saying them aloud had made her emotions even more real.

Jennie sighed on the other end, her usual playfulness absent. Instead, her tone was calm, understanding. “Alright,” she said gently, her words like a lifeline. “Give me a minute, and I’ll send it to you.”

The line went dead, leaving Y/N alone in the silence of her apartment once more. She lowered the phone, her fingers trembling as she stared at it. A mix of fear and anticipation churned in her stomach. What would Roseanne say? Would she even want to see her?

A soft chime broke her thoughts, signaling Jennie’s text. The notification lit up her screen, and there it was. Roseanne’s address. Y/N stared at it for a moment, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

She didn’t hesitate. The moment her resolve solidified, she grabbed her coat and keys from the counter. Her movements were hurried but deliberate, each step toward the door feeling like a step closer to something she couldn’t let slip away.

As she reached for the doorknob, a million thoughts raced through her mind, what she would say, what she hoped Roseanne might say, the fear that this might all backfire. But none of it mattered. She had to see her.

It was time to face Roseanne.

The drive to Roseanne’s apartment was a blur. Y/N barely registered the passing city lights or the soft hum of the radio. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on her chest.

When Y/N arrived, she parked her car along the curb and turned off the engine. The street was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights that reflected off the sleek facade of the building. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she stared up at the familiar structure.

The sight of it brought a wave of bittersweet memories crashing over her, each one more vivid than the last. She remembered the first time she had stepped through those doors, her heart fluttering with nervous excitement as Roseanne had shyly handed her a set of keys. She remembered lazy Sunday mornings spent on the balcony with coffee and laughter, and quiet evenings where they had shared their dreams and fears in whispers.

But she also remembered the silence. The heavy, suffocating silence that had grown between them toward the end. The fights that left her feeling like a stranger in her own home. The day she had walked out for the last time, her heart breaking as she closed the door behind her.

Why would Roseanne still live here?

The question gnawed at her, twisting her stomach into knots. She had expected Roseanne to move on, to leave this place behind along with all the memories they had created together. It would have been easier, wouldn’t it? To start fresh somewhere else, away from the ghosts of what they used to be.

And yet, she was still here. In the apartment they had once called home.

The thought both comforted and unnerved Y/N. Did it mean Roseanne hadn’t let go either? Or was this just another sign of the emotional mess they had left behind, a mess Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready to face?

Her chest tightened as the lyrics to Roseanne’s song replayed in her mind, soft and haunting. “Tell me that you need me, tell me that I’m loved…”

A lump formed in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. She had to pull herself together. Turning back wasn’t an option, not now.

With a deep, steadying breath, she pushed open the car door and stepped out into the cool night air.

The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the elevator. The familiar scent of the polished floors and the soft lighting triggered another wave of nostalgia. She hesitated as she reached for the elevator button, her hand trembling slightly.

What if this was a mistake?

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for Roseanne’s floor. The ride felt interminable, each floor passing with a low hum that seemed to echo her racing heartbeat. Her reflection stared back at her in the polished metal doors, her wide eyes betraying the nerves she was trying to suppress.

Her thoughts raced as the elevator ascended. What would Roseanne say when she saw her? Would she be angry? Hurt? Would she even want to see her at all?

Y/N’s breath hitched as the elevator came to a stop. The doors slid open, and she stepped into the hallway. Her footsteps echoed softly against the carpeted floor as she approached Roseanne’s apartment.

When she finally reached the door, her breath caught.

She stared at it, her hand hovering just above the wood. Her chest tightened as a flood of memories washed over her.

This was once her home too. She could still remember the countless times she had walked through this door, arms full of groceries, laughing at one of Roseanne’s jokes. She remembered sneaking in quietly after a late night out, trying not to wake Roseanne, only to find her sitting on the couch, waiting with a teasing smile.

The familiarity of it all stirred a mix of dread and hope, a potent cocktail of emotions that left her feeling both exhilarated and terrified.

Her hand lingered over the door, her fingers trembling as she fought the urge to turn back. But then she thought of Roseanne’s voice, soft and vulnerable in her message. “I wrote it thinking of you. It says everything I wish I could say to you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she tried to steady herself.

With a shaky exhale, she finally knocked.

The seconds that followed felt like an eternity. Each heartbeat thundered in Y/N’s chest as she stood frozen, staring at the door. Then, she heard the faint shuffle of footsteps on the other side, the sound growing louder, closer. The door creaked open.

Roseanne stood there, her eyes widening in shock. She was dressed casually in an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back into a loose bun with a few stray strands framing her delicate face. She looked softer than Y/N had remembered, her usual polished elegance replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt heavy, electric, charged with surprise and the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Y/N,” Roseanne finally said, her voice soft and trembling, laced with disbelief. Her lips parted as though she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

Y/N’s breath caught. Seeing Roseanne this close again, seeing the faint shimmer in her eyes, the way her features softened with emotions she couldn’t hide, was almost too much. The lump in Y/N’s throat made it difficult to speak, her voice barely above a whisper as she managed, “I needed to see you.”

Her words hung in the air, tentative and raw.

Roseanne blinked, her lips pressing together for a moment before she stepped back, silently motioning for Y/N to come in. Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping over the threshold, her chest tightening as the familiar space enveloped her.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Roseanne turned slowly, her movements deliberate, as if trying to gather her composure. Her expression was a mix of confusion, hesitation, and vulnerability. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Why now?” she asked, the faintest crack in her words betraying the storm beneath her calm.

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the remnants of a life they had once shared. She finally looked back at Roseanne, her own chest tightening as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. “Because I heard your song,” she admitted, her voice raw, barely above a whisper. She took a shaky breath, her emotions spilling over as she continued, “And it made me realize I can’t keep running from this. From us.”

Roseanne’s breath hitched audibly, her eyes softening with a mix of relief and longing. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it,” she confessed, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. “I didn’t even know if you’d listen.” Her voice broke slightly on the last word, and she quickly looked away, as if afraid of what Y/N might say next.

Y/N stepped closer, the storm of emotions inside her building with every second. Her voice was steadier now, though the tears threatening to fall betrayed the fragility beneath. “How could I not?” she asked, her gaze locking with Roseanne’s. “Rosie, that song…” She trailed off, shaking her head as tears began to well in her eyes. “It was everything I’ve been feeling. Everything I couldn’t say. Every word…” Her voice broke, and she lifted a hand to wipe at her cheek.

Roseanne’s composure cracked at the sight of Y/N’s tears. Her own eyes glistened as she whispered, “I never stopped loving you.” Her voice broke completely, her vulnerability laid bare. “I couldn’t let you go, Y/N. I tried, but I just couldn’t.”

The words hit Y/N like a tidal wave, each one crashing against the walls she had so carefully built around her heart. She inhaled sharply, her emotions finally spilling over. “Neither could I,” she admitted, her voice trembling as tears slid down her cheeks. “But, Rosie, we hurt each other so much. We broke each other.” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, the memories of their arguments and silences cutting deep.

“I know,” Roseanne said, her voice barely audible. She stepped closer, her hands trembling as she reached out tentatively, as if afraid Y/N might pull away. Her fingers brushed Y/N’s lightly before she looked up, her gaze filled with raw emotion. “Do you know why I never sold this place?”

Y/N shook her head slowly, her tears falling freely now.

“Because I couldn’t,” Roseanne confessed, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her eyes shone with tears she no longer tried to hide. Her voice broke as she continued, “It was the last thing that reminded me of you. Every corner, every shadow, it’s all you, Y/N. I couldn’t let go completely. I didn’t want to.”

The raw honesty in Roseanne’s words sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing through Y/N. Her chest tightened painfully, the magnitude of Roseanne’s confession wrapping around her like a vice. She saw it now, not just the apartment but the weight of two years’ worth of longing and grief that Roseanne had carried within these walls.

Y/N stepped closer, her own tears spilling over as her hand reached out, trembling as her fingers brushed against Roseanne’s. The warmth of the touch was both grounding and electrifying, a reminder of all they had been and all they could still be.

Her voice was soft, breaking with both love and sorrow. “Rosie, I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.” She paused, her breath catching. “But we’re not the same people we were two years ago. I’m not the same person who walked out that door.”

Roseanne nodded slowly, her gaze locked on Y/N’s as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I know,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. She swallowed hard, her next words laced with both desperation and determination. “But I’ll do anything to make this work. Anything, Y/N. I’ll leave the industry if I have to. I’ll give it all up for you.” Her voice cracked on the last word, her vulnerability laid bare. She hesitated, her lips trembling before she added, “You’re the love of my life.”

Y/N’s breath hitched at the sheer sincerity in Roseanne’s voice. Her chest ached with the weight of it, her heart swelling and breaking all at once. She shook her head, her voice firm but gentle. “Don’t be stupid, Rosie. I don’t want you to give up your dreams. That’s not what this is about.”

Roseanne’s brows furrowed, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as her hands fidgeted at her sides. “Then what is it about?” she asked, her voice rising slightly with desperation. “Tell me what I need to do, Y/N. Please.”

Y/N took another step closer, their hands brushing again as she steadied herself. She met Roseanne’s gaze, her own eyes filled with unshed tears, and spoke with a steadiness she hadn’t known she was capable of. “It’s about us,” she said softly, the weight of the words heavy between them. “It’s about us trying again. But only if we promise to try as hard as we can. To be better. To communicate better. To really be there for each other this time.”

Roseanne stared at her, the tears on her cheeks catching the soft light of the room. She nodded quickly, her lips trembling as a sob broke free. “I’ll try,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do anything, Y/N. I swear. Just… just don’t walk away again.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she closed the remaining distance between them. She cupped Roseanne’s face in her hands, her touch gentle yet firm, anchoring them both in the moment. “You’re the love of my life too, Rosie,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “And I want us to have a second chance. I need us to have a second chance.”

Roseanne leaned into Y/N’s touch, her tears mingling with a soft, shaky laugh that sounded like relief and joy all at once. “I won’t let you down this time,” she promised, her voice trembling but steady.

Y/N smiled through her tears, the weight of her emotions making her chest feel both heavy and impossibly light at the same time. Her heart ached, not with pain but with a bittersweet mix of hope and love that surged through her like a tide. She took a hesitant step closer, then another, until the distance between them was gone, her movements careful yet certain.

Her gaze lingered on Roseanne’s face, drinking in every detail, the glistening trail of tears on her cheeks, the way her lips trembled with unspoken emotion, the soft vulnerability in her eyes that mirrored everything Y/N felt.

Roseanne’s breath hitched as Y/N thumb swept gently across her skin, wiping away a tear that had just begun to fall. Roseanne leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as if savoring the warmth and familiarity.

“Rosie,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling but filled with quiet conviction. Her other hand found its way to Roseanne’s waist, her touch light but grounding, as though she needed to anchor herself in this moment. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

Roseanne’s eyes opened, shimmering with unshed tears, and a small, breathless laugh escaped her lips. “You are,” she murmured, her voice breaking with equal parts disbelief and relief.

Y/N smiled again, her own tears spilling over as she closed the final gap between them. Her lips met Roseanne’s in a kiss that was as soft as it was intense, a tender connection charged with the weight of everything they had been through.

The world seemed to fall away as they melted into each other, the kiss carrying all the emotions they couldn’t put into words. It was an apology, a promise, a plea for forgiveness and a vow to try again, all wrapped into a single moment.

Y/N’s hand moved from Roseanne’s cheek to the back of her neck, her fingers threading gently through the loose strands of hair as she deepened the kiss. Roseanne responded instantly, her hands coming up to rest on Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer as if afraid to let her go.

Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven, as the kiss lingered. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, it was deliberate, filled with the kind of love that had never truly left them, even in their time apart.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, their breaths coming in soft, shaky exhales. Y/N let out a quiet laugh, a sound that was equal parts relief and joy, her eyes still glistening with tears.

“You’re everything to me, Rosie,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And this… this feels like coming home.”

Roseanne’s lips curved into a trembling smile, her eyes shining with love as she whispered back, “You are my home, Y/N. You always have been.”

“You’ll always have been and always will be my number one girl,” Y/N murmured, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Roseanne's eyes were shining with the same emotion. “And you’ll always be mine.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the air between them charged with the promise of a new beginning.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of Roseanne’s apartment, casting warm, golden light across the living room. Y/N stood in the kitchen, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the comforting aroma filling the air. The space felt alive again, less like a shell of old memories and more like a place where something new could grow.

Roseanne’s voice echoed faintly from the bedroom as she hummed a soft tune, her guitar resting on her lap. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she listened, the sound stirring a warmth in her chest she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A soft scratching noise at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. It was a sound she knew all too well.

“Rosie,” she called out, setting her mug down on the counter. “Did you hear that?”

Roseanne’s humming stopped, and moments later, she appeared in the doorway, her expression already softening. “Oh,” she said, her voice tinged with surprise and a smile tugging at her lips. “That must be Hank.”

Y/N’s breath caught as Roseanne moved to the door, her movements fluid and familiar. When she opened it, Alice stood on the other side, holding Hank’s leash. The little dog was already bouncing excitedly, his tail wagging furiously.

Alice glanced at Y/N, her eyes widening briefly before a knowing grin spread across her face. “Oh,” she said, her tone teasing. “Y/N. You’re here.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but Alice didn’t linger, her voice brisk as she handed over the leash. “Later, Rosie, I want details. Everything. But I’ve got to go. I’m running late!”

Roseanne laughed, rolling her eyes affectionately as Alice gave her a quick hug and a pointed look before rushing down the hall, Rosie calling her back, “Thank you for taking care of him!”

The door closed, and the apartment fell silent again. Hank, however, was anything but calm. The moment he spotted Y/N, he froze, his tail pausing mid-wag as his dark eyes locked onto her.

“Hank,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. She crouched down instinctively, her hands outstretched as the dog’s tail began wagging furiously.

With an excited bark, Hank bolted toward her, his little body vibrating with enthusiasm. Y/N laughed through her tears as he jumped into her arms, his paws pressing against her chest as he licked her face.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, her voice breaking as she hugged him tightly. “I missed you so much.”

Roseanne leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the reunion with a smile that was equal parts fondness and relief. “I wasn’t sure if he’d remember you,” she said softly.

Y/N looked up at her, tears streaming down her cheeks as Hank nestled into her arms. “How could he forget?” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She scratched behind Hank’s ears, her gaze shifting back to the little dog who was now happily curled against her.

Roseanne stepped closer, crouching down beside them. She reached out to ruffle Hank’s fur, her hand brushing against Y/N’s in the process. Their eyes met briefly, and the shared emotion in the moment said more than words ever could.

“Hank’s missed you,” Roseanne said quietly, her voice warm. “He hasn’t been the same since you left.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, her heart aching at the thought. “I missed him too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed everything.”

Roseanne’s hand lingered on Hank’s fur, her fingers brushing Y/N’s again. “Well,” she said, her voice steady but filled with tenderness, “you don’t have to miss it anymore. You’re here now.”

The words settled between them, a quiet promise of the new life they were building together. Hank let out a contented sigh, curling up against Y/N’s lap as if to say he wasn’t letting her go again either.

Y/N leaned her head against Roseanne’s shoulder, her tears falling freely now, but they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of hope, of love, and of finally finding her way back home.

The brisk chill of January had settled over Seoul, bringing with it the magic of a new year. The streets were lined with faintly glowing lights, and a dusting of snow covered the sidewalks like a soft, white blanket. The world seemed quieter, more reflective, as if everyone were holding their breath for what the future might bring.

Y/N adjusted the hem of her coat as she stepped into Jennie’s home, the warmth of the interior immediately enveloping her. She looked over at Roseanne, whose hand was intertwined with hers, and felt a familiar surge of emotion she hadn’t yet grown used to, love, steady and unwavering, filling the spaces she had once thought were irreparably broken.

Jennie greeted them with a grin as wide as the moon, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. “There they are!” she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the hum of conversation in the room. “Our favorite reunited couple!”

Y/N laughed softly, cheeks flushing as Roseanne gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, don’t make it weird,” Y/N teased, but Jennie was already pulling them into a warm hug, one arm around each of their shoulders.

“I’m just happy to see you both like this,” Jennie said, her voice softer now as she stepped back. She gave them a knowing look, her gaze flicking between them. “It’s about time, isn’t it?”

Roseanne smiled, her cheeks tinged pink, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. “It is,” she said simply, and the way she looked at Y/N made Jennie’s knowing expression turn into a broad, satisfied grin.

The party was intimate, filled with close friends who were eager to celebrate Jennie’s birthday. Familiar faces mingled throughout the room. The atmosphere was warm and lively, the clinking of glasses and soft bursts of laughter weaving a comforting backdrop.

Y/N noticed the glances at first, brief, curious looks from friends who hadn’t seen her and Roseanne together in years. But as the evening went on, those glances turned into warm smiles, nods of approval, and even a few heartfelt words of support.

“You two look good together,” Jihyo said at one point, her tone light but genuine.

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, her smile shy but radiant as she glanced at Roseanne, who returned her look with a fondness that made her chest flutter.

Roseanne stayed close by her side throughout the evening, her hand finding Y/N’s every so often in a small, grounding gesture. It was subtle but reassuring, a silent promise that they were in this together.

As the night wore on, they found themselves sitting together on the couch, sharing quiet laughs as they watched Jennie cut her cake. The warmth in the room felt like a reflection of their own hearts, fragile yet hopeful.

Later that night, Y/N and Roseanne returned to Roseanne’s apartment, their steps slow and unhurried as they shed their coats and boots. The quiet of the space was a welcome reprieve from the liveliness of the party, and the faint glow of the city lights outside painted the room in soft hues.

They made their way to the bedroom, the familiar coziness wrapping around them like an embrace. Y/N slipped under the covers, her body instantly relaxing against the warmth of the sheets. Roseanne joined her moments later, their movements fluid and practiced, as though they had never spent two years apart.

The quiet was companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them in the weeks since they had reconciled. Y/N turned onto her side, facing Roseanne, whose soft features were illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

“I’m glad we went tonight,” Y/N said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Me too,” Roseanne replied, her gaze steady as she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face. Her touch lingered, her fingers tracing a gentle line along Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N caught her hand, holding it against her face as her eyes searched Roseanne’s. “Do you think this time will be different?” she asked, her voice quiet but tinged with vulnerability.

Roseanne nodded, her expression earnest. “I know it will be,” she said, her tone firm but warm. “Because we’re different now. We’ve learned what it means to really love someone, and I think we’re finally ready to do it the right way.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, not with sadness but with the overwhelming weight of Roseanne’s sincerity. “I want that too,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I want us to keep growing. To be better. Together.”

Roseanne smiled, her eyes shimmering as she leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “We will,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination. “I promise you, Y/N. We’ll keep fighting for this. For us.”

Y/N nodded, her tears spilling over as she smiled through them. She tightened her hold on Roseanne’s hand, their fingers lacing together in a silent vow.

They lay like that for a while, their hands clasped between them, their gazes steady as they talked softly about their future. They spoke of dreams, small ones, big ones, and everything in between. Y/N confessed her fears, and Roseanne countered them with reassurances. Roseanne shared her hopes, and Y/N listened with an open heart, letting each word settle deep inside her.

As the night wore on, their words grew quieter, their breaths slowing in unison. They didn’t need grand gestures or elaborate promises. This moment, their hands intertwined, their hearts aligned, was enough.

[itsnesss]

I definitely NEED an Axel who is totally crying and moaning all the time, in my head he's just a sub who needs to be taken care of

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | a passionate encounter with Axel Kovacevic unfolds as he surrenders to your dominance, proving he's your "pretty boy" in every sense

warnings | smut without plot, explicit content, p in v, oral sex, strong language, dom!reader, sub!axel

word count | 2.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

You slowly approach him, his perfect figure does not go unnoticed as you advance. Axel, so submissive, so obedient. You have been watching him since he arrived, like a dog waiting for his command, as always. And you can't help it, you feel that spark inside you, that need to make him feel something, something beyond what he thinks he knows about himself.

"Pretty boy" you murmur with a mischievous smile, the same one you know makes him doubt himself. You delight in how his gaze darkens, as if he were searching for the right words to react, but he can't find them. Instead, his body responds to your closeness, the tension between the two of you grows.

You run a finger across his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt stretch, how his muscles tense under your touch. You don't need to say anything else; he knows what you want. He looks at you, as if he were incapable of looking anywhere else, his lips slightly parted, as if he were waiting for a signal.

And then, you do it. You get even closer, until the distance between you becomes nothing, until he can feel your breath on his skin.

"Do it for me, Axel." Be the nice boy I know you can be.

The word "pretty" resonates in his mind, probably in a way he never thought it would. But it doesn't matter. You are the one who sets the rules here. The place feels warm, the tension palpable in the air as your hands roam his back, noticing how his control begins to slip.

His hands search for your waist, the pressure he exerts as he wraps his arms around you makes you smile, but you know it's him who is losing control. It's not enough. You need more from him, and you know it. So without thinking, you push him slightly back, forcing him to look at you while you dominate him, without him even being able to protest.

"Come on, pretty boy" you whisper again, this time more firmly, and he submits, his eyes now shining with a mix of desire and surrender. You lean closer to his ear and with a soft, almost playful tone, you say:

"I told you. You are mine".

You move a little away from him, but only to make sure he does, like a kind of game. You see him pull back, as if he had lost his balance, and you know exactly what to do to make sure you get him back. Without saying a word, you lean towards him and kiss his lips gently. He surrenders under your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist once more. You feel in control, knowing that you are the one in charge here.

"My pretty boy has a big mouth" you murmur over his lips, seeing the surprise on his face. "Do you want to show it to me?"

And when he nods, you know you've won. You make him kneel before you, his arms falling to his sides as if waiting for your command. And in the meantime, you stand right there, with your shirt in one hand while with the other you unbutton your pants.

"Undress me, handsome. Do it like I told you".

And he does it. Slowly and gently, removing each piece of clothing until you feel naked in front of him. The desire in his eyes makes you sigh, makes you feel powerful. You step away for a moment, and without losing eye contact with him, you approach the sofa and sit right on the edge, your legs crossed in a flirtatious gesture, like an invitation for him.

"I want to see that big mouth in action". You say to him while hugging yourself with your hands behind your back and smiling in a way more innocent than you feel. "Come here and make me feel".

He approaches you, his mouth gliding over your legs, but you don't want to wait. You make him stop right at your thighs and, without wasting any time, you push him down until his mouth is right above your legs. You don't give him time to ask any questions, you just lean over him and start kissing his mouth with more intensity, with more passion, and you can feel the tension in the air becoming more palpable.

You pull away from him for a moment, yank off your bra, and toss it aside. Your breath is ragged as you sit there, completely naked in front of him.

"Are you ready to play, pretty boy?" you ask him, and you know he is, you can read it in his eyes.

You nod and make him come closer until his mouth brushes against your legs once more. And with a dark smile, he begins to kiss each of your curves until he reaches your crotch. Your body shudders when the sensation of his lips on you hits you. You start to moan as his tongues brush against your folds, but he doesn't stop. Not until he hears you tell him to stop.

And you know it, you trained him to do that. You taught him to always wait for your command to continue.

"Mmm, Axel" you whisper, leaning over him and kissing his mouth. "Do it harder. I want to feel you".

And he does, there's no doubt he has understood your orders, so he rests his head on your thighs while continuing the movement of his lips. Your body begins to tense as his mouth works its magic on you, while his fingers caress your hips, you feel lost in him.

"Axel" you moan his name, the sensation growing stronger until you can't take it anymore. "Make him feel you, pretty boy".

And you do it. You feel it within you, as if you had possessed it. His breath on your legs is rough, the sounds of satisfaction he makes make you sigh. And when he pauses for a moment, you can feel his lips still moving slowly on you.

"Pretty boy" you whisper between sighs, leaning towards him to kiss his cheek. "Come on" You make him sit and move closer until you are right above him, feeling the texture of his pants against you. "I'm ready to feel everything".

And he nods without you having to say anything more.

You make him unbuckle his belt, his fingers trembling as he tries to free his erection from his pants. You can't help but smile as you see how lost he feels, how his face flushes as he stands up and starts to take off his clothes. The sight of his naked body doesn't make you lose interest; if anything, it makes you want to feel closer to him. And he understands it.

You sit back down on the couch, look at him, and invite him to come closer. His eyes shine when he sits in the place where you were just moments ago, his breath is quick, but it stops right there. You touch him, your fingers caressing his skin as he looks at you. And you can feel the desire in him, the fear, the need to please you.

"Do you want to fuck me, Axel?" you look him straight in the eyes and he nods. "It's not the first time you've done it" you tell yourself, more than him. "But you always make me feel like you're the best man in the world. And if I told you that I love you as always?"

You touch it again and you can feel its pulse, as if you were striking the heart of a wild horse. "What would you do, pretty boy?"

"Everything you ask of me" he gasps, his words barely intelligible. "I want to do it. I want to fuck you".

And your response is to kiss him hard, with passion, making him fall back until his back hits the couch. And you can feel his ragged breath on your lips as you mount him and move closer to his legs.

"Tell me you like it". You say, starting to lick his erection. "Tell me what you like, pretty boy".

"You are..." he begins to respond, but seems to lose the thread of the conversation. "You are so good..." it's the only thing he can respond, his sounds of satisfaction increasing with every lick you give him. "Oh... Axel, pretty boy..." you moan over his erection, feeling Axel's body tense beneath you. "This is for me. For you. Don't stop".

And he doesn't.

He takes your hair and starts pushing your head down, his rough breath in your ear as he makes room for himself in your lap, as if he intends to shove his erection into your mouth. And right there, you can feel that he has lost control, you can see in his eyes the need to fuck your mouth.

And he does. He begins to penetrate your mouth forcefully, but you can't help but moan. Instead, you cling to his thighs. And Axel stops when he feels you there.

"Axel?" you gasp, and it may seem like a question, but it isn't. You don't need it, you just want to let him know that you felt it. "Pretty boy..."

"Pretty boy..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he begins to apologize, but his fingers grip your shoulders and he lifts you onto his body, and it may seem like he is truly remorseful for his actions, but you can see in his eyes that he is just waiting for you to do it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he begins to apologize, but his fingers grip your shoulders and he makes you climb onto his body, and it may seem like he is truly remorseful for his actions, but you can see in his eyes that he is just waiting for you to do it.

And you do.

You kiss him passionately and apologize for not knowing he was so close to climax. And you can see the surprise in his eyes, how he can't believe what he just heard.

"But if you want to fuck my mouth..." you whisper to him, kissing his lips softly as you start rubbing against him. "You can do it. Just tell me you want it" you can see how his eyes darken, how his breathing quickens in an instant.

"I want him," he murmurs, squeezing your shoulders. "I want you. I want to fuck your mouth. I want to do it again".

"You will, pretty boy" you smile at him as you mount his erection and slide it inside you. The sensation is intense, as if desire were flooding him completely, but you can't stop. You have to let him know, you have to make him understand that he will always be mine. "You will do what I tell you to do" you say as you start moving on top of him.

And he submits.

You feel his lips on your breasts, feeling how his teeth bite and suck them as if they were the most delicious delicacy in the world. You make him hold your breasts while he continues to lick them.

"My pretty boy always behaves well" you whisper in his ear, and you can feel his muscles tensing beneath you. "I love how you feel".

And you can feel it, how his erection begins to press against your thighs, how he starts to move beneath you as if he were trying to fuck you. You can't help the laughter that escapes your lips as you touch him, how you caress his chest and feel the sweat beginning to glisten on his skin. His fingers begin to explore your curves, tracing your back, hips, and legs as you move up and down on him, feeling every inch of him.

You can feel the tension between the two of you growing more and more, the sensation of his skin against yours makes you sigh with pleasure. You can feel his fingers caressing your buttocks, exploring downwards until they find your wet and ready crotch.

"Pretty boy wants to fuck me. Is it true?" you ask while looking at him, and you can see the desire shining in his eyes. "Are you going to fuck me like I asked you to?"

You don't need to ask him for anything else. You make him move away from you for a moment and feel him shift beneath you until he is right beneath your hips. His erection hits your buttocks and you can feel the pressure on you, how his breath begins to falter as he supports you with his hands on his shoulders.

"Do it, Axel." You whisper his name as you make him lean towards you, feeling his lips brush against your breasts. "Tell me you'll fuck me."

And there's no need for you to say anything else, Axel feels lost in you, the sensation of him inside you is as if hell had opened up for you, to let you feel the sensation of salvation. His hands grip your hips as he starts moving you up and down, as if you were an object at his disposal. And you can feel his moans on your skin, how he gasps your name while you ride him. There is no doubt about who is in control here, you can feel his quick breath on you, feel his muscles working beneath you.

And you can feel his lips on you, kissing your curves as you get closer and closer to him until you can't take it anymore. You start moving faster on him, feeling his erection inside you, and the sensation makes you moan with pleasure.

"Axel, Axel..." you gasp his name between sighs, your arms resting on his shoulders as you feel the climax near, the desire filling your veins. "I love you like this, pretty boy. I want to see you more. I want to see you fuck me until you can't anymore".

And there's no need for you to say more, Axel crumbles. He can't take it anymore, his lips cling tightly to your breasts as he begins to thrust your hips down with such force that you can feel the bed creaking beneath you. The sensation of his erection inside you is intense, you can feel the pressure within you, as if it could make you explode into a million pieces.

"Axel!" you shout his name as you feel the climax within you, the pleasure flooding every part of your body. And you can feel how he also reaches his orgasm, how his body tenses beneath your skin as he thrusts up harder. "Axel, mmm..."

And you can feel how he collapses onto the sofa beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to catch his breath. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you towards him, as if he needed to feel your warmth.

"My pretty boy is the best." you whisper on his cheek, feeling his fingers glide down your back.

[sayruq]

Surrounded by dozens of soldiers, tanks, armored cars, buzzing drones, and army dogs, Ahmad Safi found himself looking at a massive hole in the ground. “Of all the death scenarios I have imagined myself in since the beginning of the war, I never suspected I would see my own grave,” the 26-year-old Khan Younis resident told Mondoweiss. Ahmad and his male relatives had been detained by the Israeli army and forcibly conscripted to stand in front of a resistance military base as the Israeli soldiers took cover behind them. They were caught in the middle of an exchange of fire between the soldiers and the resistance. On the night of January 22, the Israeli army launched a sudden attack on western Khan Younis, where five shelters for displaced people were located. In the middle of the night, the Israeli troops advanced towards the Tiba buildings, where Ahmad and his family had taken refuge in the middle of the Israeli-designated “safe zone.” These buildings were surrounded by al-Aqsa University, the al-Khair Hospital, the Industrial College, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society Center, and the al-Mawasi coastal area, all housing tens of thousands of displaced Palestinians. Early that night, Ahmad realized that Israeli quadcopter drones had fully occupied the sky. He knew what this meant based on his accumulated experience of Israeli war tactics — the army preferred to launch major operations under cover of night. Ahmad heard nonstop gunfire in the distance that night, but it was relatively far away, so he kept watching an anime show to distract himself. Moments later, the sound of gunfire intensified and got closer, and suddenly he heard screams from the opposite room. His cousin had been hit by a bullet. As the gunfire started intensifying further, Ahmad threw himself under his bed when the rest of his family rushed to his room carrying his injured cousin. That was when the Israeli soldiers stormed their apartment, bursting into the room in a blaze of flashlights. “It was the first time I had seen an Israeli soldier in real life,” Ahmad told Mondoweiss. The army separated the women from the men and forced the women to flee south to Rafah. The men were kept zip-tied and would remain in the army’s custody. An Israeli commander ordered Ahmad and the men of his family to move downstairs in single file. He then ordered them to kneel against the southern wall inside their apartment, which faces a resistance military base. Ahmad’s body was shaking uncontrollably. His lips were trembling and his breathing was heavy. “I tried to pull myself together,” Ahmad recounted. “But when I heard my mother say goodbye to us as she was dragged outside by the Israeli soldiers, I couldn’t hold back my tears.” The next morning on January 23, the Israeli soldiers ordered Ahmad, his father, his brother, and the rest of his cousins to move outdoors and instructed them to move horizontally in front of the armored military cars. “As they ordered us to stop and stand still, I found myself again a few meters away from the resistance military base,” Ahmad said. “ That was the moment I realized that we were being used as human shields.”

[leona-florianova]

‘But it seems to me that emotion and its expression are almost the same thing. Let us take your cat: now suppose we shave her tail, so that it cannot shall I say perscopate or bristle; suppose we attach a board to her back, so that it cannot arch; suppose we then exhibit a displeasing sight – a sportive dog, for instance. Now, she cannot express her emotions fully: Quaere: will she feel them fully? She will feel them, to be sure, since we have suppressed only the grossest manifestations; but will she feel them fully? Is not the arch, the bottle-brush, an integral part and not merely a potent reinforcement – though it is that too?’ Dr Ramis inclined his head to one side, narrowed his eyes and lips, and said, ‘How can it be measured? It cannot be measured. It is a notion; a most valuable notion, I am sure; but, my dear sir, where is your measurement? It cannot be measured. Science is measurement – no knowledge without measurement.’ ‘Indeed it can,’ cried Stephen eagerly. ‘Come, let us take our pulses.’ Dr Ramis pulled out his watch, a beautiful Bréguet with a centre seconds hand, and they both sat gravely counting. ‘Now, dear colleague, pray be so good as to imagine – to imagine vehemently – that I have taken up your watch and wantonly flung it down; and I for my part will imagine that you are a very wicked fellow. Come, let us simulate the gestures, the expressions of extreme and violent rage.’ Dr Ramis’ face took on a tetanic look; his eyes almost vanished; his head reached forward, quivering. Stephen’s lips writhed back; he shook his fist and gibbered a little. A servant came in with a jug of hot water (no second bowls of cocoa were allowed). ‘Now,�� said Stephen Maturin, ‘let us take our pulses again.’ ‘That pilgrim from the English sloop is mad,’ the surgeon’s servant told the second cook. ‘Mad, twisted, tormented. And ours is not much better.’ ‘I will not say it is conclusive, said Dr Ramis. ‘But it is wonderfully interesting. We must try the addition of harsh reproachful words, cruel flings and bitter taunts, but without any physical motion, which could account for part of the increase. You intend it as a proof per contra of what you advance, I take it? Reversed, inverted, or arsy versy, as you say in English. Most interesting.’

--Master and Commander

[panther-os]

beating my head against the walls in Latine

here's eight things that atp will have me immediately closing out of any fic, AleRudy edition:

1.

❌ "the los vaqueros"

ah yes the famed and feared las almas battalion of Mexican special forces. the the cowboys

✅ "los vaqueros"

✅ "the vaqueros"

2.

❌ "the los vaqueros base"

✅ "los vaqueros' base"

✅ "the vaqueros' base"

3.

❌ "corporal alejandro vargas and sergeant rodolfo parra/major rodolfo parra"

look, fuck the military as an institution and also fuck the devs for using American rank structure for members of the Mexican army but

it takes roughly 2 years in the army to advance to Corporal. the equivalent in the Mexican army is Cabo, and Google will not give me the requirements for it no matter how I ask

it takes 3-6 years to advance to Sergeant. From what I can tell, the Mexican equivalent is also Cabo (where Sargento Segundo is closer to Staff Sergeant)

it takes 10-12 years to advance to Major, the equivalent is Mayor (not the English word mayor like of a city, don't be like those white people)

it takes 22-24 years, a bachelor's degree, and officer school to become a Colonel and it takes 18-20 years and a whole mess of leadership courses nearly equivalent to a degree to become a Sergeant Major

put some goddamn respect on their names

✅ Colonel Alejandro Vargas and Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra

✅ Coronel Alejandro Vargas and Sargento Primero Rodolfo Parra

4.

❌ Fuerza Especiales

❌ Fuerzas Especiale

this is just not understanding Spanish grammar

✅ Fuerzas Especiales ("Special Forces")

❎ Fuerza Especial ("special force")

5.

❌ Sin Nombre ("without name")

Alejandro literally corrects Soap on this one in the game

✅ El Sin Nombre ("The Nameless")

6.

❌ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Mexican Special Forces"

the leader of Mexican Special Forces is the Secretaría de la Defensa Nacional - the Secretary of Defense - and Fuerzas Especiales is composed of three brigades, 74 independent battalions (like Los Vaqueros), 36 amphibious special operations groups. Colonels command single brigades at most.

Alejandro is capable of leading Mexican Special Forces, but it would require him to retire from the field and get more of a desk job, with far more politics than I think he'd have patience for

✅ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Los Vaqueros - a battalion of Fuerzas Especiales stationed in Las Almas"

7.

❎ "our ancestors, the Aztecs"

look, indigenous identity is weird sometimes and I don't know enough specifics about the culture around it in Mexico to have a solid opinion, but I'm also very fucking tired of people thinking the only indigenous groups in Mexico are the Nahua (Aztecs) and Maya. if they're on the Texas border and their families have always lived there, their heritage is most likely seven different Apache nations/language groups in a trench coat with some Spanish conquistador on the side. they're most likely not related to any famous indigenous chiefs or other figures, but it's very possible they can trace their Spanish ancestry back directly to nobility

for example, I am related to absolutely none well-known Tsalagi or Kwikipa people as far as I'm aware, but I am a direct descendant of the brother of King Ferdinand the Catholic, which also means I'm a direct descendant of the guy who started the Inquisition (and now I'm Jewish (and pro-Palestine for those who want to know) so take that, colonizer)

also while Bayardo is Mexicano, Alain is Cubano, please be respectful when talking about the actors or when in their instagram lives and just. don't make assumptions y'all

8.

❎ "Los Vaqueros" is a nickname from the people of Las Almas, the battalion's actual name that is on all the paperwork and dog tags is more likely numerical or describing their role/location - like "11th Battalion" or "The Borderline Battalion" or something like that. maybe even both, like "The 11th Border Battalion"

[supertrainstationh]

DOCTORS OF DOG LAND

by A. Griffin / Super Train Station H

•••••••••••••

Once upon a time, in a country far away, lived a society of canines that walked on only two legs. They wore shirts, and also pants, and could hold things with their hands, and they ran a hospital whose science work was quite advanced. One patient they cared for, submitted by her parents, had symptoms most unusual, their cause far from apparent. When happy without fail rather than simply wag her tail, she weirded others out by doing strange things with her mouth, making expressions unacceptable, whose wrongness needn’t be mentioned, reacting to being glad by making a face that threatened - with twisted corners of the mouth, demanding bad attention. For a dog to show their teeth, threatens a bite to all who see - that a happy pup would act like that was strange, and near obscene. There were other factors too, filling the folder of her case - as stimuli of normal life caused vividly painful headaches. Senses smashed by overwhelming force, over-loads would occur, bending sight and sound, into phantasmagoric blur. She'd also stare at certain plants, then strangely say, they were pretty, so came batteries of fancy tests to diagnose her quickly. The doctors sat down grimly with her father and her mother, and explained that their dear little girl had visions plagued by "color". A study of her eyes determined over-active cones, making normal waves of light appear as strange and separate tones. Her enjoyment of these hues expunged alternative conclusions - this afflicted little girl was clearly suffering delusions. Arcs of broken light she said, bowed skyward after rain, illusions such as these signaled a misdeveloped brain. And for the chronic headaches there was nothing they could do, but they prescribed her medication so she'd see as others do. Isolated as she was she longed to be included - since strange things made her happy, it fit perfect to remove them. She called chromatic deviations wonderful, and nice to see, but disturbing thoughts like that could be suppressed with therapy. Patient complaints of her new vision, were really nothing worth a listen - professionals were sparing her the pain of seeing different. It would be cruel not to address her habit with her mouth - that teeth-exposing tick, when happy, needed wringing out. Just how to come about a cure, posed somewhat of a puzzle, until a genius doctor strapped the girl up in a muzzle. Its calibrated sensors administered electric shocks, that provided helpful feedback, each and every time she talked - and also if she regressed, by wasting time staring at flowers, there was no doubt she could be fixed, with scientific power. There was word that special glasses, might be all that it would take, to lessen certain bands of light that triggered her headaches, but that would signal "strange condition" and cause outsider suspicion - and making her look normal was the object of the mission. There were extremists out there who claimed the "color" thing was cool, though those mutts lacked PhDs and couldn't change the rules. And if some had become doctors, and spectromatic sight they had, that disqualifying trait signaled they needed to be banned. The goal was not to understand and lend a helping hand - enforcing homogeneity was normalcy's demand. Oh if struggle could be softened, without persecuting patients - but thinking so inventive, was the future's innovation. So within the narrow focus of the logic then at hand, they heeled unto textbook commands, for treatment plans in Dog Land.

If you liked this poem, you might like my work-in-progress YouTube video series Barrier Aggression, in which I provide detailed commentary on a few non-disabled disability gatekeepers who have put themselves in charge of an "autism advocacy" nonprofit.

(this isn't a criticism of science/medicine helping disabled people, its a criticism of science/medicine "treating" characteristics that are only problems in the context of them not being seen as "normal" by typical people)

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[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

Summary:blind reader in this one Gale didn't write bad about Sam.

Warnings:…😶

WC: 5.7k

Author’s Note: happy new year y’all. Hope everyone had a good year. Also apologizes in advance for this one. Hope y’all enjoy:D

****~****

After high school you had known that the college life was also going to be hard. It took you forever to know the halls, turns and where your classes were at. It helped that you had your service dog, Scooby. According to your adoptive mom, he was a brown Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Now you had no idea what they looked like but you are positive he was cute. People always tended to gush about him where ever you took him. He had been a great help for you as you adjusted in this new city.

Your mom had been skeptical at first but she knew she had to let you go. She was very protective of you especially after your father was killed. You had been away on a school trip with your class when it had happened. You had only found out about it two days after when your mom personally came to get you from the trip. The trip had been in Alaska, it was supposed to be a two month trip but due to the attacks it was cut short.

The news had devastated you. Especially since you didn't know about it right away, cause of the no cell reception. So it was harder for your mom to reach you. You and your mother had cried for days.

She didn't know how she'd be able to let you move to New York by yourself with Scooby. She wouldn't be able to move on if she lost you or Scooby. She loved that dog, he was such a good boy. They had trained him on some simple commands to help you.

Dewey had helped you teach Scooby the commands.

So with that fear in mind, not only did she move to the city herself, she didn't have it in her to let you leave and live by yourself. But she also had called someone she hasn't spoken to as much as she wanted.

"Gale? Hey it's been awhile."

"Hello Sam, how's it going?"

"Uh pretty good we're settled in and you know Tara's worried about starting school again, she says she's not nervous but I can tell she is. How are you holding up, since you know..."

"Oh you know I'm hanging in there. I was actually calling to ask you for a favor. I completely understand if you can't. I know trust goes a long way for you."

"Gale relax, if it wasn't for you, people would still be dragging my name through the mud. What can I help you with?"

Gale leaned back in her desk chair. She tried so hard to make sure you had stayed out of her life as a reporter. Keeping you a secret from the world was surprisingly easy. Especially if there was crazy psycho trying remake a movie. Dewey and herself had agreed to keeping you a secret. Adopting you was one of her greatest things she could have done.  She remembers the day she first saw you, it was a couple months after she found out that she couldn't have kids. Dewey had tried to tell her that it was okay, that they didn't need a kid to be a happy family. But she knew better, they both had wanted a baby in the family.

So they went to a foster home. And that's where they found you, a tiny little girl. You were only baby, a year old to be exact when they saw you walking around crashing into things, walking into walls. They had watched how the other older kids would ignore you. You would babble to get anyone's attention but you'd be ignored. After crashing into a wall once again, they watched how you stood back up with a smile on your face. You had a small ball in your hands but no one to play with. They didn't understand why, until you got closer. Stumbling here and there.

Your soft y/ec eyes had clear white spots in them. Even though they were warned about you, they had fallen in love with you the moment they saw you.

"I have a daughter."

"Oh what? Wow uh congratulations?"

"No I've had her for a while, she's 19." She knew Sam probably didn't believe her.

"Really? Why are you telling me this?"

Gale heard the confusion, but she couldn't follow you every where. So she needed someone to keep an eye on you. Just a safety precaution. Something that could help her keep calm. Making friends was something that didn't come easy for you. Even though you're a bright and happy kid, other people weren't. It never affected you though. Your smile always stayed. 'Life is too short for me to be butt hurt that people don't want to be my friend, I'll be fine mom.' Was something you always said.

"She has this, thing. And I was just hoping you'd kinda just be there for her. She doesn't make friends easily and I know I'm asking a lot but—Gale relax. What's her name?"

~~~~~~******~~~~~~

The day had come. You had recently moved into the studio room with the help of your mom. She had helped remind you where everything was at. Making sure you knew every corner, step, counter in the apartment. It took a while but you got it. Now you could do somethings by yourself. Like bathe (obviously), get yourself dressed (your wardrobe was filled with mostly black clothing), colored clothing was in a different drawer, cook (pb&j's, cup noddle soup, wash dishes) You weren't completely helpless. A life without vision was something you were used to.

"Okay Scooby, how do I lo-" Your phone rang, cutting you off. You turned to the direction of the phone, hearing the nails scrapes of your dog. The phone ring getting closer. You felt the nudge on your knee. Reaching down feeling the cold nose of your dog, taking the phone from him. Siri had been notifying you of who was calling. "Thanks buddy."

"Hi mom."

"Hey honey, listen I called a friend of mine her name is Sam and she's on her way to take you to class-Moom-I know I know but please just give your lady a piece of mind. I swear I'm getting more grey hair. Just please do it for me."

You sighed and nodded. "Okay mom. When is she co-" The sound of the door bell rang throughout the studio. "I thinks she's here."

***

"Wait since when does Gale have a daughter?" Tara asked confused. She had over heard Sam's call with Gale and had wanted to help Gale's daughter. Especially since they'd be going to the same college.

"I don't know, she has a daughter that's your age, lives alone with a dog, apparently doesn't know anyone here cause she just moved here and her name is Y/n. We are going to go pick her up tomorrow."

"Damn. Gale weathers kept her daughter a secret?" The younger carpenter sibling said amazed. She would have never guessed that Gale had a daughter. She had started to wonder what the girl looked like.

Now that she was kept waiting, she was left feeling just a tad bit excited to meet the girl. She wondered if she was like more like Gale or Dewey. Probably a mix of both.

*

"Who's there." Your hand felt around for the button next to the door. It was intercom that your mom had paid to get installed. It was the best tech that your mom could possibly find.

"Hi Y/n it's Sam, Gale sent me."

"Mom I thinks she's here, uh how do I know I can trus-You can honey, trust me. Sam is a good one."

"Okay. I love you." Your mom returned the term of endearment before hanging up. Your hands felt around for the locks on the door. Unlocking all ten of them. Once finished you opened the door.

Sam stood on the other side, her eyes widening just a bit at the sight of your eyes. Now she understood why Gale wanted someone to watch over you. Tara stood behind her sister, jaw slack as she took you in as well. She had never seen someone so beautiful. She took in your smile as you let Sam in offering your hand that Sam shook. She walked close behind her sister as she watched one of cutest dogs she's ever seen close the door behind her. Her eyes looked into yours. Most of your eye color was covered with a cloudy white color. There was still some color in there but not as much. They were still the most beautiful pair of eyes she has ever seen.

"And you are?" The question was directed to her. It was what snapped her out of her thoughts. Her face felt flushed and warm as you looked in her direction.

You had heard the other set of footsteps when you let Sam in. You could smell the different perfume the person used. It was a smell you liked, never had you smelled something so, beautiful? The person stopped in front of you. You offered a smile and held a hand out.

"T-Tara. I'm Tara Sam's sister." Tara ignored the raised eyebrow directed towards her by her sister. Her face felling hot as she shook your hand. Your hand was much bigger than hers but it was so soft and warm. She wanted to hold on to it forever.

Your ears felt blessed as you took in her voice. It was the most beautiful voice you had ever heard.

"Nice to meet you Tara. This is Scooby. I'm sorry if my mom made you guys co-Hey now we wanted to, now are you ready?" Tara reassured. She didn't want you feeling like they didn't have a choice in the matter. Tara had never been so grateful that Gale trusted them in meeting her daughter. Cause you had to be one of the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Uh yea. I just need my walking stick and my backpack."

At the mention of the backpack the two sisters watched as the dog scurried away towards the living room. Retrieving your backpack from the small coffee table. He had already had his service vest on and he was ready to go. With a smile on your face you took the backpack that had your walking stick. You moved to take it out but a warm hand stopped you.

"I got you, you can hold my elbow." Tara with a blush on as you took her elbow with a smile. She ignored the pointed look from her sister once again. She felt warm all over at the feeling of your soft hand touching her skin. She lead you out the apartment while Sam locked up.

Sam watched how Tara directed where each step was at. Telling you where exactly was the button to call the elevator. Although Sam felt like you already knew where it was at. She watched as you smiled and followed Tara nevertheless. Right before leaving the apartment you had reached for your sunglasses. Covering your eyes, she saw the disappointment in her sister's eyes the second it happened.

Sam couldn't help the small smile, Tara had been different since last year's attacks. But seeing that smile on her face while she spoke to you was something she hoped to see more.

*

"Okay here's your music class." Tara directed you into the class, there were already some students in the class waiting for the professor to arrive. "Do you wanna sit in the front?" She touched your hand that was still holding the inside of her elbow. She looked up at you, your soft smile on display as you looked down in her direction. Seeing her reflection on your sunglasses. She wished she could see your eyes again.

"Yes please, thank you Tara. I really appreciate you helping me."

The smile she got in return felt like a reward, seeing such a beautiful smile directed her way had Tara feeing like she could just melt to the floor.

"I wanted to. Now here's your recorder, your mom said you like to go back and listen to the lessons. Here, it's the professors textbook she's using this year." Before getting to the class, they had stopped by the library. When she saw the classes you were taking, they took a little detour. Grabbing the textbooks she knew would benefit you more.

"Thank you Tara but I can't exactly see." You said with a teasing smile. Feeling her cheeks warming up, she couldn't help the chuckle that left her lips.

"I know that, but this one you'll like better. I'll see you two after class. Bye." She smiled down at Scooby who had sat on the seat right next to yours, laying his head down on the arm rest.

"We'll see you later, thanks again Tara." You smiled up towards the direction you knew she was standing at. Your heart skipping at beat when you felt her warm hand on top of yours.

"You're welcome. Now I really have to go or else I'll be late to my class."

She left the room soon after. You smiled to yourself. Remembering to call your mom to thank her. Tara sounded so...beautiful. You may be blind but just by her voice you knew she was beautiful. Tara will be a great friend to have around.

Hearing the professor walk in and announce the beginning of his lecture you hit record on your recorder. Taking the book that Tara had gotten for you. Your breath hitching in your throat when your fingers felt over the cover. It was a braille version of the textbook. Your mom had told you that they didn't have braille books for the music course you were taking. But here it was. Noted that it did feel old but nevertheless it was a book you could read. Feeling your eyes watering a bit, no one had been this nice to you, that wasn't family. To go out of their way to do something so kind. Yet Tara did.

Scooby laid his head on your arm. You smiled down at him petting his head. Maybe making friends here wouldn't be so hard.

*

The weeks that followed had been great for Tara. She had spent most of her days with you. Or you with her at her apartment with the rest of the gang. You and Scooby have become such a great addition to the group. Having you around the apartment had been something that she loved to see.

Since you had been her friend the amount of frat parties she had gone to have been minimum. Choosing to rather be with you and Scooby either at your apartment or hers.

Something that Sam had liked.

Sam had seen the bond between her sister and you grow. The way you with out trying brought out the girl Sam had left behind five years ago. The way Tara was around you was of someone that had no worries. Someone that hadn't gone through almost getting killed. Someone who hadn't been betrayed by someone she loved. Someone who had to kill the one she considered a lover.

Sam could also see how you were around her sister. Tara hadn't been the only one to grow attached. Seeing the way you were around Tara was almost comical. Seeing you both dance around each others feelings was funny. Sam had taken to talking to Gale more often. Telling her about how you were doing. But also about how they were doing as well. The bond between Sam and Gale had grown.

"Hey Sam, how was work?"

She had just gotten back from work to find you and Scooby sitting on the floor of the living room. The way you could just tell who the person was, just by their footsteps was something that Sam had found impressive. She had seen how Chad had tried to sneak up on you but you would always greet him before he had the chance.

"Hey Y/n, it was good what are you guys doing? Where's Tara?"

"Well I'm helping Tara with her homework, well the best I can anyway. And she's in the bathroom." You smiled in the direction of where Sam stood.

"That's good. Any one at school giving you trouble?" Sam had been told by not only the twins but also her sister how they had found a group of frat boys picking on you. Scooby had tried his best to comfort you, not only was he there to help you but he was also there to protect you. Sam had been told by Tara how they had arrived in time to see Scooby biting one of the frat boys. The one that had taken your mobility cane.

"No Scooby scares them away. That or Tara does." You joked earning a laugh from the older Carpenter.

"Good, you know if anyone is bothering you, you can tell me." Sam had been told by your mom how you used to get bullied in high school. You were a sweet kid that didn't deserve to be mistreated. It wouldn't be the first time she had scared someone just for looking at you wrong.

"I know. Thanks Sam."

"You're welcome, now I'm making dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs sound good."

"Sounds great."

*

You were laid on Tara's bed watching a movie you had never heard of. It was one of Tara's favorite movies. The Babadook. You weren't really into scary movies. You had loved hearing the movies your dad watched. The Marvel movies. Daredevil had always been your favorite. For obvious reasons of course. To be blind and still be able to kick ass. Now that was awesome.

But nevertheless Tara had wanted to see the movie, so now you were here. Tara laying her head on your chest as she watched her movie. You were listening in as well. Jumping a bit when a suspenseful scene happened. You didn't see it but from the music and sound effects, not to mention the tv was a bit loud.

But the more you laid there. The more you got lost. The warmth of Tara's body pressing on to you. The feeling of her head laying right above your heart. The way her hand was on your stomach, her fingers softly creasing your stomach. It was sending the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Her legs were intertwined with yours. Your arm was also wrapped around her back holding her into place.

You weren't sure what this meant. Seeing as you never really had friends. Or cuddled with anyone. This was something you've never done before. You didn't want to over think anything. Make things weird. So you just laid there. Hoping Tara could feel what you felt. You'd ask but you didn't want to lose this friendship. You didn't want to jeopardize losing Tara.

"I can feel you thinking. What's on your mind?" Tara paused the movie to look up at you. Her chin still on your chest as you looked at you. Your glasses were off, the fairly lights, and the lights coming from the tv made your eyes shine. The small patched of y/ec were noticeable. Your eyes were something she loved to look at. They were like clouds with a bit of color in them. Her fingers came up to your cheek on their own accord. Softly creasing the smooth skin of your cheek. Her smile widening when you leaned into her palm.

"Nothi-Liar. I don't know if you know this but, when something is bothering you or you're thinking too hard. You get this cute little crinkle right here." With a finger she touched in between your eyebrows. Laughing when you were quick to make said crinkle go away. "Now come on tell me."

"Uh I like someone."

Tara felt herself tense, her smile quickly falling from her face. She sat up away from your warmth. Her heart breaking at the thought of you with someone else. Someone getting to lay with you like she had been doing. Someone else being able to get to kiss you. Or seeing you vulnerable like how she's seen you.

"That's-That's..who? Do I know them?" She had hoped her voice didn't come off like she wanted to cry. Cause she could feel the tears building up.

"Yea. You do. It's Sam."

The way her jaw dropped, part of her not believing what she was hearing. You liked Sam?! Samantha!! Her sister?! The ache in her heart grew ten fold. The tears escaped her eyes and she was quick to wipe them away.

"I'm just kidding. It's not Sam. It's you. I like you."

Tara didn't know whether to punch you or kiss you. So she punched your arm. "You asshole." The punch was quickly followed with a kiss. The feeling of her lips on yours was everything she had dreamed of.

"Were you crying?" You reluctantly pulled away when you felt her wet cheeks.

"Duh! I thought you confessing your love to my, sister! You're an asshole for that and I'll never forgive you." Even though the scare was still there. Your teasing smile had her smiling as well.

"I'm sorry. What can I do for you to forgive me." You brought your hands up, cupping her cheeks. You could feel her smile, the dimples that had been your favorite to feel. Her soft skin was so warm.

"Mmh, go on date with me."

"Aw man. I wanted to be the one to ask."

Tara smiled at the sight of your pout. She chuckled, she no longer felt the heart ache. No. She felt like she could kiss you again. And again. And again. The love she felt in her chest felt so strong. Something she never felt before. Not even with...Amber. Amber had made feel something. There was doubt in that. But nothing like this.

"So is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes."

*

You sat in one of tables in the quad. Scooby sat by your side. It wouldn't be long till Tara and Mindy came out of their last class of the day. It had been a month since your date with Tara. A month since you started dating Tara. Just the thought of your girlfriend was enough to have you smiling.

At hearing the familiar footsteps you straighten up. By the way they slowed down you knew she was trying to sneak up on you, so you let her. You felt her soft lips on your cheek.

"Hey baby." Tara had missed you(although she had seen you two hours ago when she walked you to your class) she couldn't help it. To be able to kiss you when ever she wanted, it was something she loved to do. Having you blush every time she kissed you. It was a sight she aimed to see every single hour of the day. Pecking your lips before greeting Scooby (who was happy to see her). "Hello there buddy, are you protecting our girl huh. Anyone bother her?"

"No one bothered me. Where's Mindy?" Feeling her warmth as she sat next to you. You wrapped your arm around her shoulder bringing her closer. You felt her get closer kissing what you thought was her temple but ended up being the corner of her eyes. "Oops sorry." Hearing her giggle was like a blessing to your ears. She cupped your cheeks guiding your lips to hers into a gentle kiss.

"Mmh it's okay. And she's with Anika. Chad's with Ethan doing who knows what. It's just you and me babe-*BARK*-And Scooby of course." Tara chuckled at the interruption.

"Maybe we could have a date ni-Guys! There's a party going down today and we have been invited." Quinn had said with excitement, you Tara had loved to party. It wasn't anything new. Yes, most times she blew off a party to be with you. You had loved every moment you had with Tara. But the thought of her holding back on having fun was something that began to make you feel, guilty?

"Uh I'm not sure-Oh come on Tara. Y/n tell Tara to have some fun."

With those thoughts in mind. You  looked in the direction of your girlfriend. "Yea go have fun babe."

"But what-It's okay. I'm going to be on the phone with my mom most of the night. Go. Have fun. You can call me after."

"Fine, ugh okay. But I'll be in your apartment right after. Okay?" A part of Tara didn't even want to go. She had wanted to go back to your apartment and just relax.

She'd only stay at the party for an hour or two and then she'll go to yours.

*

You had just finished making yourself a cup noddle soup. Moving in the kitchen had been relatively easy for you. You had gotten used to everything in your apartment. Making the soup was easy. Especially when you did it the lazy way. (Water in the cup and then in the microwave). You weren't supposed to but it was much faster that way.

At sound of Scooby barking had you turning to face the noise. "Scooby?" Your hand held on to the counter. Using it to guide you to the noise.

"Here boy."

You heard him growl, you with your hand moving from the kitchen counter to the wall leading to the supply closet. Then you felt Scooby biting your pants leg. Trying lead you away from the door.

"What's wrong-" The force of a being tackled had your sentence cut short. With the sudden weight, weighing you down. The sudden pain of what you assumed was a knife coming down on your shoulder had you screaming. The scream of pain was followed by the yelp of the person.

Scooby had beaten into the arm of the attacker. But a dog wasn't going to stop the attacker. No. He had came prepared. Wearing a material that can withstand a bite from a dog. Killing you was going to be easy. Gutting the dog was something he had been looking forward to. Stabbing the dog, the yelp of pain the dog let out.

"No!" You sobbed out. You couldn't lose him. You felt around for something, anything you could use to help Scooby. Your fingers connected with something solid, it was Chad's baseball bat. You gripped and swung it as hard as you could. You felt the moment the hard bat connected to the attacker. You heard the moment they dropped Scooby. More sobs escaping your lips as you failed to hear any noise coming from Scooby.

"Oh Y/n, you've missed out quite a bit. But let me catch you up to speed."

You're breathing was heavy, feeling like you couldn't catch your breath with how much you were crying. The pain you felt as the knife was brought down into your chest, the pain was too much. You tried to fight back. Your hand holding the knife, you ears finally picked up the faint whimpering of Scooby. He was dying and you couldn't do anything to help him.

"Alexa call Tara."

"Calling Tara."

"No-" A hand covered your mouth as you tried to fight him off. But you could feel your energy fading. You had lost count on how many times you had been stabbed. You didn't want Tara to hear you dying. You didn't-

"Hey baby-Would you relax Sam it's Y/n." Hearing her voice sounded so relieved. Your felt your tears escaping at a rapid pace. Your tears rolling down the side of your face into your ears.

"Babe?"

"Hello Tara."

*

"Hello Tara."

The voice had her freezing in her steps. The dread overwhelmed her in waves. No it couldn't. He couldn't be back. With you. You were vulnerable. Scooby could only do so much. Feeling Sam behind her as she bolted. Sam close behind her.

"Tara wait! What's wrong?"

"Don't worry Tara. She won't go alone."

*

Nothing could have prepared her for when she opened your door. There was no noise. Not the tv playing your favorite show, not the scabbing of nails coming to greet her. Not your voice calling out to her with a beaming smile.

No.

What greeted her was the sight of Scooby laying in pool a blood. He was unmoving. His eyes wide with no life in them. Her hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. The sob escaped her lips when she saw who was laying unconscious not too far from Scooby.

“No. No. No. Please god no.” Her vision became a tunnel vision. The only thing she could see was your stiff body. “Y/n?” Your eyes were open but unblinking. The same as your dog. No life in them. Her chest stuttered to get some air in. The sobs that racked her body as she pulled you closer. Your body was no longer warm. It had turned cold.

“No. Come on Y/n. Please. Please don’t leave me. You can’t. You can’t.” The ache in her chest had also started in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. The pain she felt at seeing no life in your eyes. Your beautiful cloudy y/ec eyes held no life.

“Sam help me! Help me please! Scooby needs help to Y/n-she needs him. She can’t lose him. Please. Pl-please.” She held your limp body closer to her. Wishing that this was just a horrible nightmare. Wishing that she’d wake up and that you’d be right next to her.

But you stayed still. Your body stayed cold.

Tara gasped awake, her eyes frantically looking around the room. She was in her own room. But you weren’t there. The panic grew. The dread growing when she didn’t find you. She reached for her phone calling you. But the more she went without hearing your voice. The more the fear grew. She was out of her bed in no time. In a rush to find you.

It couldn’t be true.

But it felt so real.

When you weren’t in the kitchen, she had to find you. Your apartment is where she’d find you. You had to be there. You just had to.

The force of knocking into someone had been so sudden that she had almost knocked the person over. Had the person not been prepared.

“Wow Tara trying to tackle a blind person are ya?”

The sound of your voice had her already blood shut eyes widening before she let out a relieved sob as she fell into your arms. As she buried her face into your chest holding you tight. The nightmare had felt so real. The pain of losing you had felt so real. Your de- your body she had felt it.

“Talk to me Tara? What’s wrong?” You were worried. Never had you heard Tara crying like this. You had texted her last night but Anika had responded saying Tara drank a bit too much and was taken home late into the night. So you had gone to bed with the plan of going to Tara’s in the morning hoping you could make her hangover a bit better.

“Tara breath for me baby.” The concern grew as you felt her breathing become more erratic. You tried your best to lead her inside without tripping shutting the door behind you. Locking as many locks as you could. Scooby followed close behind. Also worried for the shorter girl.

When your fingers finally touched the couch you sat her down but she refused to let you go. You wanted to know what had caused her to act like this.

You dug into your bag, fingers grazing items you did not need. Once you found what you needed you took it out. “Come on Tar, use your inhaler. Breath for me baby. I’m right here.”

Once she had her breathing under control. You leaned back into the couch. Pulling Tara on your lap and holding her close to you. You weren’t sure what was wrong but it was clear that she needed comforting. Scooby also jumping on to the couch. His head laying into the space of the couch and you and Tara. Trying his best to comfort the girl.

“I had a bad dream. It felt so real. So fucking real. Everything. From the way you act, talk. Even when you use the microwave to heat up your cup noddle soups. Even when I tell you not to do that. Ghostface attacked you and Scooby. You both didn’t make it. Fuck it felt so real. And when I woke up I felt so confused and-when I didn’t see you, the fear grew. I couldn’t tell if the dream was real or not. I can’t lose you Y/n. I just can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to live without you.” Tara felt herself wanting to cry again.

“I’m right here. I know I can’t necessarily promise you that nothing will happen to me. But I sure as hell can promise you that I’ll try my very best to always return to you.” You kissed the side of her face. What ended being her ear.

“I know, I’m sorry I freaked out on you.” She mumbled into your neck. Her grip on you never loosened up. Not that you were complaining.

“Don’t be. Plus I’m not that helpless. Daredevil isn’t my favorite marvel character for no reason.” You joked hoping you could get a laugh or smile from her. From the sound of her chuckle you knew you had succeeded.

“Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

With a kiss on your lips, you could still feel her lips trembling just a bit. You wanted her to feel safe. To feel sure.

“I love you Y/n.” To have you laying here with her. It was enough for to calm down just a bit. To have Scooby also here was just enough for her to finally accept that it was just a nightmare.

“I love you to Tara.”

:)