#all of these are excellent and I highly recommend

[ckerouac]

Alright, for @spaceorphan18 my list of the books I’ve read in the first chunk of this year (Jan-Apr) that I’d highly recommend. My 4 stars & above.

Fiction

Paladin's Faith by T Kingfisher

Marguerite Florian is a spy with two problems. A former employer wants her dead, and one of her new bodyguards is a far too good-looking paladin with a martyr complex. Shane is a paladin with three problems. His god is dead, his client is much too attractive for his peace of mind, and a powerful organization is trying to have them both killed. Add in a brilliant artificer with a device that may change the world, a glittering and dangerous court, and a demon-led cult, and Shane and Marguerite will be lucky to escape with their souls intact, never mind their hearts…

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez

A young father and son set out on a road trip, devastated by the death of the wife and mother they both loved. United in grief, the pair travel to her ancestral home, where they must confront the terrifying legacy she has bequeathed: a family called the Order that commits unspeakable acts in search of immortality. For Gaspar, the son, this maniacal cult is his destiny. As the Order tries to pull him into their evil, he and his father take flight, attempting to outrun a powerful clan that will do anything to ensure its own survival. But how far will Gaspar’s father go to protect his child? And can anyone escape their fate?

Death Valley by Melissa Broder

A woman arrives alone at a Best Western seeking respite from an emptiness that plagues her. She has fled to the California high desert to escape a cloud of sorrow—for both her father in the ICU and a husband whose illness is worsening. What the motel provides, however, is not peace but a path, thanks to a receptionist who recommends a nearby hike. Out on the sun-scorched trail, the woman encounters a towering cactus whose size and shape mean it should not exist in California. Yet the cactus is there, with a gash through its side that beckons like a familiar door. So she enters it. What awaits her inside this mystical succulent sets her on a journey at once desolate and rich, hilarious and poignant.

The Pisces by Melissa Broder

Lucy has been writing her dissertation on Sappho for nine years when she and her boyfriend break up in a dramatic flameout. After she bottoms out in Phoenix, her sister in Los Angeles insists Lucy dog-sit for the summer. Everything changes when Lucy becomes entranced by an eerily attractive swimmer while sitting alone on the beach rocks one night. But when Lucy learns the truth about his identity, their relationship, and Lucy's understanding of what love should look like, take a very unexpected turn.

Nonfiction

The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of the Donner Party by Daniel James Brown

In April of 1846, twenty-one-year-old Sarah Graves, intent on a better future, set out west from Illinois with her new husband, her parents, and eight siblings. Seven months later, after joining a party of pioneers led by George Donner, they reached the Sierra Nevada Mountains as the first heavy snows of the season closed the pass ahead of them. In early December, starving and desperate, Sarah and fourteen others set out for California on snowshoes, and, over the next thirty-two days, endured almost unfathomable hardships and horrors.

Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow

Inspired by her research for the hit podcast Ultra, Rachel Maddow charts the rise of a wild American strain of authoritarianism that has been alive on the far-right edge of our politics for the better part of a century. Before and even after our troops had begun fighting abroad in World War II, a clandestine network flooded the country with disinformation aimed at sapping the strength of the U.S. war effort and persuading Americans that our natural alliance was with the Axis, not against it. It was a sophisticated and shockingly well-funded campaign to undermine democratic institutions, promote antisemitism, and destroy citizens’ confidence in their elected leaders, with the ultimate goal of overthrowing the U.S. government and installing authoritarian rule. While the scheme has been remembered in history—if at all—as the work of fringe players, in reality it involved a large number of some of the country’s most influential elected officials. Their interference in law enforcement efforts against the plot is a dark story of the rule of law bending and then breaking under the weight of political intimidation. That failure of the legal system had consequences. The tentacles of that unslain beast have reached forward into our history for decades.

Ice: From Mixed Drinks to Skating Rinks—A Cool History of a Hot Commodity by Amy Brady

In Ice, journalist and historian Amy Brady shares the strange and storied two-hundred-year-old history of ice in America: from the introduction of mixed drinks “on the rocks,” to the nation’s first-ever indoor ice rink, to how delicacies like ice creams and iced tea revolutionized our palates, to the ubiquitous ice machine in every motel across the US. But Ice doesn’t end in the past. Brady also explores the surprising present-day uses of ice in sports, medicine, and sustainable energy—including cutting-edge cryotherapy breast-cancer treatments and new refrigerator technologies that may prove to be more energy efficient—underscoring how precious this commodity is, especially in an age of climate change.

Entangled Life: How Fungi Make Our Worlds, Change Our Minds & Shape Our Futures by Merlin Sheldrake

Sheldrake’s vivid exploration takes us from yeast to psychedelics, to the fungi that range for miles underground and are the largest organisms on the planet, to those that link plants together in complex networks known as the “Wood Wide Web,” to those that infiltrate and manipulate insect bodies with devastating precision. Sheldrake reveals how these extraordinary organisms—and our relationships with them—are changing our understanding of how life works.

Toxic: Women, Fame, and the Tabloid 2000s by Sarah Ditum

Welcome to celebrity culture in the early aughts: the reign of Perez Hilton, celebrity sex tapes, and dueling tabloids fed by paparazzi who were willing to do anything to get the shot. Toxic tells the stories of nine women who defined the hell of celebrity in the 2000s and explores how they were devoured by fame, how they attempted to control their own narratives, and how they succeeded or (more often) failed. These women come from all walks of fame—pop music, acting, reality TV, and WWE wrestling. Some of them you think you know already, and others will be less familiar, but Toxic reveals these women neither as pure victims nor as conniving strategists, but as complex individuals trying to navigate celebrity while under attack from a vicious and fast-changing media.

Nuclear War: A Scenario by Annie Jacobsen

There is only one scenario other than an asteroid strike that could end the world as we know it in a matter of hours: nuclear war. And one of the triggers for that war would be a nuclear missile inbound toward the United States. Nuclear War: A Scenario examines the handful of minutes after a nuclear missile launch.

UFO: The inside story of the US government’s search for alien life here - and out there by Garrett M. Graff

For as long as we have looked to the skies, the question of whether life on Earth is the only life to exist has been at the core of the human experience, driving scientific debate and discovery, shaping spiritual belief, and prompting existential thought across borders and generations. And yet, the idea of extraterrestrial intelligence has been largely seen as a joke, banished to the realm of fantasy and conspiracy. Now, for the first time, the full story of our national obsession with UFOs—and the covert, decades-long search by scientists, the United States military, and the CIA for proof of alien life—is told by bestselling author and Pulitzer Prize finalist Garrett M. Graff in a deeply reported and researched history.

[wilderflcwers]

"For both bonobos and chimpanzees, the bodies of the dead evoke many emotions. Even if the process often begins with trauma and confusion, typically corpses shift to a liminal status; not alive, but equally not a lump of meat. They're more intensively manipulated than hunted animals, and carried for longer. In some – if not all – cases, the eaters must know what and who they're consuming. Cannibalism is very probably a powerful means by which individuals and groups process the impact not only of killings carried out on emotional impulses, but other deaths too. In other words, it's about grieving. [...] "Shift these scenarios to Neanderthals, and add into the mix their far greater cognitive sophistication, and lives that revolved around using lithics. Suddenly it's not difficult to envision how skills in carefully taking apart hunted carcasses might be transposed into a grieving process that involved butchery and cannibalism as acts of intimacy, not violation."

Rebecca Wragg Sykes, Kindred: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

when the. when the story has a main four

[caressthosecheekbones]

Game: Add 10 gifs from your favorite shows and tag 10 people

Tagged by @almightaylor, thank you dear 💜✨

Mr Robot

2. The White Lotus

3. Trust fx

4. Sense 8

5. Fleabag

6. The Good Place

7. Mad Men

8. Generation 56K

8. Downton Abbey

9. We are Lady Parts

10. Brooklyn 99

tagging @smute @elglin @schimmelspore @mylucayathoughts @mossy-fae @bambi-nicky @beepbeepsan @wtfuckevenknows @moripartylove @accordinglyskeptical but absolutely zero pressure, as always, babes 💖

[thatonesquintern13]

we’re here because

we’re here because

we’re here because

we’re here 🧡

[sesamestreep]

the first tuesday in may

A/N: I originally wrote this as a prompt fill and then decided I hated it and wrote something else instead, but I held onto the draft because I liked the concept. After revisiting it and editing it into something not completely mortifying to read, I decided to post it after all. Double prompt fill! What a time to be alive! (posted to AO3 here)

Sloan thinks she is uniquely terrible at being a famous person. Not that she gets into trouble as a public figure all that often (trouble finds her with alarming frequency, but she does her best not to court it, at least), but rather that she doesn’t care about a lot of the things she thinks she’s supposed to as a celebrity. If she had her way, she could work at ACN, be on several new programs a day as an anchor, and still somehow not be recognizable at all. This doesn’t make sense to her friends and family. She understands that, on paper, it doesn’t make much sense at all. If she wanted to be some anonymous economist, she simply should not have agreed to ever be on television. She’d chosen this life instead. Some days, she still can't figure out why.

All of this is to say, she never really anticipated being invited to the Met Gala. Honestly, she hadn’t even heard of it until she started working with Mac and even then, she didn’t think about it much. She does like fashion, though, and she likes museums in a theoretical way where she wants them to exist and have funding but she also gets bored after 15 minutes in even the more interesting ones. The fervor and fanaticism around the Met Gala, though, had surprised her and then intimidated her, in that order, when she’d gotten her invitation. But a designer had agreed to dress her and she’d managed to walk the red carpet without falling on her face and she’s pretty sure she didn’t say anything to a reporter that she’ll regret, which means the night was an unmitigated success for her. The thing she’s really worried about is how her colleagues at ACN will react the day after. She’s ultimately more nervous about the first Tuesday in May than she was about the first Monday.

Despite her preparation for commentary and possibly mockery from her co-workers, the morning fortunately passes without incident. By the time she’s finished with the 12 o’clock show, though, most of the staff for the prime time shows have started to trickle in and, truthfully, it’s them she’s most anxious about. Neal is the first to say something, but because it’s Neal, it’s also the cheeriest possible comment she could ever hope for.

“Saw pics from the Met Gala last night,” he says, as she passes by his desk. He doesn’t even take his eyes off his computer in order to say it. “You looked amazing. How many best dressed lists did you make?”

“I haven’t checked,” Sloan replies, with a slight eye roll. “I’m guessing very few.”

“No way.”

“There was some debate over whether I dressed properly to the theme.”

“Yes, but that’s what people love about the Met Gala. The debate is the fun part!”

“If you say so.”

“Regardless, me and all the other brave soldiers on Sloan Sabbith stan Twitter have your back.”

“I know what most of those words mean individually and yet, together, they’re a mystery to me.”

“So, a ‘stan’ is actually—”

“Oh, no. I’d like it to remain a mystery, thanks.”

Neal clamps his mouth shut with an amused expression. “Suit yourself.”

“I appreciate the loyalty, though,” she calls over her shoulder, as she makes her way to Mac’s office.

“Always!”

Her knock on Mac’s door is immediately met with an invitation to come in, but she hesitates in the doorway when she sees Will there already.

“I can come back…”

“Not at all,” Mac says, waving her in. “Will and I were discussing what to do with your segment for tonight’s show as it is.”

“We have so many options for what to discuss,” Will says brightly, “since you missed last night’s show.”

Sloan sighs. “Okay, I knew this was coming…”

“Did you have fun at your fancy party? With all your celebrity friends? While the rest of us were working?”

“First of all, Charlie approved it, and I was there representing ACN, so I was working, thank you very much,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “And secondly, you’ve been to the Met Gala like five times! Don’t take it out on me that you got snubbed this year!”

“Why would they want me there, when they can have someone younger and more beautiful?”

“Yes, it’s that and not your feud with Anna Wintour that prevented you being invited,” Mac says, giving him an arch look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will says, spreading his hands out in a wide, innocent gesture.

Sloan, for her part, is delighted. “What did you do, Will?”

“Nothing!”

Mac snorts. “He called her a shrew at Anderson Cooper’s birthday party three years ago.”

“That’s not true,” Will shouts. “How did you even know about that?”

“He told everyone at CNN about it,” she replies, looking down at the papers strewn about her desk, like this subject is boring her completely.

“I did not call her a shrew,” Will says, this time to Sloan. “I would not say that about anyone, even if they deserved it, like Anna Wintour very clearly does.”

“He was very drunk at the time,” Mac says, also to Sloan, over-pronouncing the words like she’s speaking about a child. “He doesn’t remember.”

This, at the very least, does make Will look sheepish. “I wouldn’t say it, even drunk,” he insists, though he doesn’t sound quite so confident anymore. “But I think we can all agree that her reaction is not unlike how a total shrew would behave.”

“Just apologize to her, dude,” Sloan says, leaning on the available chair in front of Mac’s desk, rather than sitting in it like a normal person. 

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” Will says, pointing a warning finger in her direction. “And I’m not going to apologize for something that I never did in the first place.”

“Allegedly,” Mac says.

“Shut up,” Will shoots back.

“I’m just saying, if you smoothed things over with Anna, you and I could be Met Gala buddies next year.”

Will looks incredulous. “Oh, it’s ‘Anna’ now, is it?”

“Well, yeah. We really bonded on the dance floor when Bruno Mars was playing.”

Will makes a disgusted sound, while Mac hides her smile in her fist. “Leona must have been in heaven,” she says, tactfully trying to move the conversation in another direction. “She loves Bruno Mars.”

“She was. I think she invited him to her birthday party next weekend. Reese looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel.”

“Leona’s birthday was in March,” Will says, frowning.

“I know,” Sloan says, patiently. “Do the math on that one quicker, Will.”

Will’s face clears with comprehension. “Poor Reese,” he says, shaking his head. “Anyway, now that we’re done gossiping about our country’s elite and their posh exploits at an event designed to market luxury brands to those who will never be able to afford them, we should talk about tonight’s show, which will be dedicated to the working class, the average citizen, and the—”

“And the suit you’ll be wearing will be custom Armani,” Mac interjects, unimpressed. “Nice try, farm boy.”

Half an hour later, Sloan emerges from the meeting with her topic for her segment on Will’s show settled and makes a beeline for her office, praying that she’s already been accosted by everyone who cares about the Met Gala and she can make it through the rest of the day in peace. Unfortunately, she’s not so lucky. 

Kendra offers her some polite praise on her dress in passing, which prompts Martin and Gary to do a quick Google search while she’s standing right there. It’s a new form of torture she was not remotely prepared for.

“Woah,” Gary says, artless as always. “You look glam, Sloan.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she replies, fighting the urge to fidget. 

“Did you meet anyone cool?” Martin asks, and she disappoints him by saying she didn’t. He then swivels his monitor towards her so she can see a picture of her talking to Bradley Cooper, which she fully doesn’t remember happening. When she just shrugs, Martin looks crestfallen and she takes that as her cue to leave.

Later on, when she’s walking through the bullpen after a meeting with Zane, Jenna stops her to say how much she loved her dress and to ask if Bruno Mars was nice in person, which leads to a repeat of the same situation as before, except now it’s Maggie and Jim googling her in front of her.

“I didn’t really talk to him much,” she says, keeping an eye on the others. Jenna’s clearly disappointed by this answer, so she adds, “But that’s only because he made a point of talking to everybody.”

“That’s so cool,” Jenna gushes, mollified at last. “He seems so down to earth, you know?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sloan says, vaguely. She definitely should have paid more attention to who she talked to last night. She was too busy praying to every god she could think of that Bruno Mars would become Reese’s new stepdad to retain any details of her actual conversation with him.

“Wow,” Jim says. “That’s a lot.”

Maggie fixes him with a glare. “Don’t be an asshole,” she says, with real fire. “Sloan, you look beautiful.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sloan replies, shrugging. “It’s like a costume party, kind of, so it’s supposed to be over the top.”

Jim, for his part, looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to be rude! You know that I think you’re beautiful too, Sloan. I was just saying—”

“You think she’s beautiful?” Maggie asks, lightly. Too lightly. It’s the most obvious thing Sloan has ever heard, and she’s intimately familiar with being too obvious with people she likes.

“Yeah, I mean. Clearly,” Jim says, scratching his neck and (if Sloan’s not mistaken) wishing he’d never been born. “She’s—you’re very beautiful, Sloan, in a textbook kind of way.”

Sloan and Jenna wince simultaneously, and Maggie’s head swivels sharply to stare down Jim even more intensely. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asks, and Sloan gets the vague sense that she’s handed them another convenient reason to pretend to hate each other for the day.

“Nothing,” Jim practically shouts. “Sloan’s beautiful. But like, you know, she doesn’t need all this—” he waves a hand in the direction of Maggie’s monitor, presumably at the photo of Sloan on the red carpet—“to be beautiful. I think she looks nice in real life, when she’s more natural.”

“Oh, right,” Maggie replies with an eye roll. “You’re one of those guys who likes women when they wear no makeup, right?”

Jim looks over to Sloan and Jenna, who are watching this disaster unfold with stone faced solemnity. Sloan tries to convey with just her eyes that he needs to stand down or get his ass handed to him, but it definitely doesn’t come through. He decides to dig his own grave, instead.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s preferable, isn’t it?”

“How much makeup is Jenna wearing right now?” Maggie asks, smelling blood in the water.

“Uh, none. Right?”

Maggie swings her gaze over to Jenna. “Is that true?” 

“No,” Jenna says, with another sympathetic wince.

“How many products did you use to get ready this morning?”

Jenna sighs. “Twelve.”

“No fucking way,” Jim says, staring at Jenna like he’ll suddenly unlock x-ray vision somehow. 

“Women have to put so much effort into their appearance just to look like what men think of as ‘natural,’” Maggie says, truly on a roll now. “And then men like you criticize women who wear makeup that looks ‘over the top’ or ‘obvious’. It’s like we can’t win!”

“To be fair,” Sloan attempts to interject, “I don’t think Jim meant—”

Jim doesn’t take the assist, because he interrupts to yell, “I don’t see how it’s my fault that beauty standards—!”

“I wasn’t saying it was your fault,” Maggie replies, hotly, “just that you’re part of the problem.”

“Oh, yeah, because that’s so much better!”

Sloan gives Jenna a sympathetic shoulder pat, as she delicately makes her exit. Jim and Maggie will be at each other’s throats until they run out of oxygen, and she doesn’t need to wait around for that. Unfortunately, Jenna, as an intern, probably will. She returns once again to the peace and quiet of her office. 

Getting ready for Market Wrap-Up at four o’clock, she gets into a conversation with the make-up artist—not the usual girl, who’s out with what she suspects is strep throat—about the gala, what it’s like to attend, if the exhibit is any good this year, which are questions Sloan is more happy to answer. No, she didn’t get to keep anything she wore. Yes, she was worried she was going to fall on those stairs. No, she didn’t bring a date.

This last answer seems to displease the woman. “If I was dating someone off the New York Giants, I’d make sure everyone knew,” she says, as she dabs mattifying concealer on Sloan’s nose. It’s to reduce shininess from sweating under the intense studio lights, Sloan knows, but she can’t help regretting the way it obscures her freckles too. 

“I’m not…dating anyone on the New York Giants,” Sloan says, carefully.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not going to tell TMZ. You don’t have to pretend for my benefit.”

“I’m not pretending. I’m really not dating anyone from the Giants. Or any other NFL team, for that matter.”

“So, who are you dating, then?” the woman asks, with a knowing sparkle in her eye.

Sloan shrugs. “No one.”

“That’s too bad. You’re pretty. You should be dating someone.”

Sloan wants to object to that assessment, or the overly familiar way this woman she doesn’t know is talking about her love life, but she can’t muster the energy. She’s been on a string of bad dates lately, including one with, yes, a New York Giant, but none of them had come to anything. She’s officially too old to consider second dates with men who can’t be bothered to ask her a single question all night long. And there’s the recent experience with having her private photos leaked by an ex that she’s still reeling from. Overall, her wariness is probably not unwarranted. That doesn’t dispel the loneliness of it all, though.

“Do you think I look old?” Sloan asks, suddenly.

The makeup artist does a gratifying double take, looking back and forth between Sloan in real life and Sloan in the mirror. “Girl, where are you seeing that?” she asks.

“Not here,” Sloan says. “I saw the pictures of me from the event and I just thought I looked tired and old. I don’t know.”

“Absolutely not,” this woman she barely knows says with more confidence than Sloan can imagine having. “Don’t do that. You look amazing. There is nothing wrong with looking your age, but you sure as hell do not look old. Don’t do that!”

“You’re right. I just—”

The woman adjusts Sloan’s head so she’s looking straight into the mirror. “Honey, if you can’t even have confidence in yourself, the rest of us are definitely in trouble.”

That is enough to startle a laugh out of her, though she hides it by looking down at her lap. “Thank you,” Sloan says, feeling far too raw about it. “I…did I even ask for your name when we got started?”

“You didn’t, but it’s Mika.”

“Thank you, Mika. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mika says, like it really is nothing to her, as she touches up Sloan’s eyeliner with a deft hand.

It’s a couple hours after that, when Sloan is frantically trying to put the finishing touches on her segment for Will’s show, that she remembers she left some of her notes from their meeting behind in the green room. In her rush to go grab them, she nearly collides with Elliot as he’s leaving the room with Don in tow. 

“God, did you get taller?” she gripes, as their almost run-in just brings her attention to the fact that she only comes up to his sternum.

“Nice to see you too, Sloan,” Elliot replies, elegantly side-stepping her. “Rough day?”

She glowers at him. “No. Why?”

“I thought maybe you might have indulged in too much champagne with Rihanna last night or something.”

“I didn’t meet Rihanna,” Sloan says, rolling her eyes. Though, given her Bradley Cooper slip-up earlier, she honestly isn’t even sure that’s true. “And I’m not hungover at work, thank you very much.”

“Just a joke,” Elliot says, holding his hands up in surrender. “My wife wanted me to tell you she thought your dress was beautiful. She’s obsessed with Vivienne Westwood.”

“Oh,” Sloan says, caught off guard by this praise. Elliot’s wife is so much cooler than him. “That’s so nice.”

“You didn’t get to meet her, did you?”

“Very briefly, but all my meetings and fittings were with her people, unfortunately. She was nice, though, when we did meet.”

Elliot smiles. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be so jealous. She really wanted to get married in one of her dresses, but it wasn’t really in the budget back then.”

“Next time we have an office party or something, tell her to come pester me with questions.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“You’re the best, Sloan,” Elliot practically shouts, as he makes his way down the hall, leaving her and Don alone together.

If she’s being honest with herself (which she tries to do as infrequently as possible), it’s Don’s opinion of the whole Met Gala thing she’s most worried about. Unlike some other people here—she thinks of Mac and Will, specifically—Don doesn’t bother to pretend that he’s above paying attention to the less highbrow items that make the news, but given that he’s also a straight man who wears the same five flannel button-ups to work on a regular rotation, he might be above caring about news that pertains to fashion. He might think the whole thing is stupid, which is the way Sloan wishes she felt. She can’t go in for some of the more avant-garde and impractical sides of haute couture, but she likes a well-made, properly fitted, beautiful piece of clothing as much as any sane person does. Her favorite outfit might be jeans and a hoodie, but she can also appreciate the work that goes into those couture gowns even she, an actual celebrity like it or not, will never have occasion to wear. So, yes, she’s bracing herself for Don’s opinion, provided he has one. Which, obviously, he does, because he’s Don.

“Allow me to be easily the 150th person to tell you that you looked beautiful last night,” Don says, after they’ve been quietly standing there like idiots for a few minutes. Sloan is already in the process of scoffing, when he interrupts to ask, “Did you have fun?”

Sloan makes a helpless gesture with her hands. “I guess…?”

“You guess?”

“It’s…really overwhelming. And exciting! But loud. And there’s so many people and they’re all taking photos. And I had to be careful not to crush my dress when I sat down, so that was awkward. But it really was cool! Seeing the exhibit while the museum was closed was awesome.”

“I bet. Whenever my sister visits the city, she always drags me to some new exhibit at the Met. If I ever win the lottery, I figured I’d rent the place out for her for a big birthday or something.”

“That’s…” Not adorable. Not sweet. Not I’d love to meet this sister I’ve never heard of before next time she’s in town. Has she ever been shown around the Met by someone who saw the exhibit while Gisele Bundchen was six feet away, because I’d be happy to— “That would be such a good idea.”

Don smiles, and his eyes do that thing where they crinkle at the corners. “Well, cross your fingers I win the Powerball soon.”

Sloan very dorkily crosses her actual fingers, making him laugh. “Maybe then they’d let you go to the Met Gala,” she says, like a stupid idiot.

Luckily, Don just laughs again. “Oh, I don’t think they’d ever admit the likes of me.”

“No?” Sloan tries to picture it and fails. Don on a red carpet doesn’t make a lot of sense, if she’s being honest. He has that behind-the-scenes energy, that frustrated stage manager from high school theater aura that he just can’t shake. Still, she can’t help thinking that she would have had more fun if he were there with her, which is a line of thought she’s not allowed to pursue any further. 

“I don’t think schlubby E.P.s of poorly rated cable news programs are ever going to drive viewers to Vogue’s website, even if they happened to be independently wealthy,” he says, plainly.

“You’re not schlubby,” Sloan objects before she can collect her wits. She feels a little bit of Mika’s ire from before when Sloan called herself tired-looking hearing Don put himself down. “Don’t say that.”

He waves her off. “Either way, I have a hard time imagining it will ever be an issue for me.”

“Too bad,” she replies, too incensed to be cautious. “I can’t help feeling like the event would have been way more fun with a buddy.”

He looks at her, in that Don way of his, like he’s running diagnostics or something. Like he’s reading her thoughts and intentions and trying to figure out what the fuck to do with them. Hell, she knows they’ve both been through a lot lately, especially where their love lives are concerned, but how many times can she make her interest clear before they confront the damn thing? 

“But then you’d have to rent a tux, of course,” she says, when the silence stretches too long and she loses her nerve. “And who wants to do that?”

“Well, that won’t be an issue either,” he says, looking at her seriously. 

“Right, of course! I was—”

“I mean, I already own one,” Don says, cutting her off. 

“Oh. Well. That is…good to know for, um…well…”

“Future reference?” he suggests, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Yeah, for future reference. Exactly. Just in case I ever, um…”

“In case you ever need a date.”

“Right,” Sloan says, feeling insane. “Like at the last minute or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Don says with a smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’ll keep you in mind.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Sloan entertains several bad ideas at once, ranging from making up a wedding she needs a date for this summer so she can see him in this tux he supposedly owns to desperately admitting he doesn’t need to ask her to keep him in mind, that she thinks about him all the time, that she hasn’t figured out how to stop thinking about him yet, but she ultimately manages to keep her cool with great effort. For someone who was anxious to confront this thing between them a moment ago, she’s not doing very much confronting right now. In fact, she’s trying to figure out a way to get out of this conversation as fast as possible so she can retreat to the safety and seclusion of her own office again and regain some damn equilibrium. But they’re in too deep now to cut and run without making things even more awkward. She’s stuck.

“Don, thank God!” Mac exclaims as she rounds the corner, startling them both. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I just finished a meeting with Elliott,” he says, taking his eyes off Sloan belatedly and managing to sound normal and casual as he does so. Maybe he’s not managing anything. Maybe he feels normal and casual. Maybe Sloan is the only one freaking out. “What’s up?”

“I had a question about—sorry, I’m not interrupting, am I?” Mac asks, seeming to only notice Sloan just then.

Don, of course, being an unholy plague on her peace of mind, looks over at Sloan, as if to pass the onus of answering Mac’s question on to her. Why couldn’t she develop feelings for someone nice? Why did it have to be Don, who’s tough and perceptive and smart, but stubborn and self-effacing and impossible at the same time? Couldn’t it have been someone easier and more laidback and more straightforward? Then again, even as she thinks it, she finds herself growing bored of this hypothetical person. She wants Don, even if it’s a bad idea, but she’s not ready to say it out loud just yet. Not again. The last time had nearly killed her.

“No,” she says, pasting on a smile for Mac’s benefit and hoping it’s enough to fool someone who knows her so well. “Nothing important.”

“Oh, good. You have a second to talk, then, Don?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, with an easy shrug. “Let’s go to my office.”

“See you in a few, Mac,” Sloan chimes in, as she ducks around them to sneak into the green room.

Don doesn’t let her off the hook that easily, though, because he turns at the last second and says her name, pulling her attention back to him. When she meets his eye, he says, simply, “I meant what I said before, Sloan. I’m here, if you want me.”

With Mac watching them like a hawk, Sloan can’t acknowledge that with much more than a nod. “I know,” she says, too softly for someone trying to be casual. It must be enough for Don, though, because he nods too and heads off with a bemused looking Mac. Sloan is sure, if nothing else, that Don can be trusted to distract Mac with work talk and that whatever just happened between them is safe with him. He would never give her away like that, not even to Mac. When she turns back to the room and catches sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes in the mirrors that line the walls, though, she’s not convinced their secret will be safe with her for very long. 

[arsenicflame]

i love you cds i love you supporting artists directly i love you owning something permanently i love you physical media i love you i love you i love you

[daysfullofdreams]

just realized I never posted this on here but I met Cecily Strong like a week ago and yes I’m still screaming crying throwing up over it

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

Had both my practical and theory finals today and was able to get marks back instantly so I can now say I am officially a journeyman welder 🧑‍🏭 (edit: what the fuck is up with emojis on desktop, that's supposed to be a person with a welding torch but for some reason it splits into a man and a factory on desktop lmao)

[seaerchyourdeals]

Kutchina Chimney Reviwes

Kutchina Chimney: Transforming Kitchen Spaces with Innovation and Efficiency

In the modern kitchen, where culinary creations come to life and family gatherings find warmth, the importance of an efficient kitchen chimney cannot be overstated. Among the leading names in kitchen appliances, Kutchina stands tall, known for its innovative and technologically advanced chimneys designed to revolutionize cooking spaces.

1. Kutchina: A Trusted Household Name

    A brief introduction to Kutchina as a reputable and established brand in the kitchen appliance industry.

    Highlight the brand's commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction.

2. Understanding the Need for Kitchen Ventilation

    Explanation of the challenges faced in the kitchen environment, such as smoke, odors, and grease, and their impact on indoor air quality.

    Importance of proper ventilation in ensuring a clean, healthy, and comfortable kitchen atmosphere.

3. Kutchina Chimneys: Pioneering Technology and Design

    Overview of the diverse Kutchina chimney models available, catering to various kitchen layouts and styles.

    Introduction to cutting-edge features, such as powerful suction capabilities, multiple filter options (baffle filters, cassette filters, charcoal filters), energy-efficient motors, and intuitive control panels.

4. Advantages of Choosing Kutchina Chimneys

    Improved indoor air quality: Highlight how Kutchina chimneys eliminate smoke, odors, and harmful gases, ensuring a fresh and breathable kitchen environment.

    Easy maintenance and cleaning: Emphasize the user-friendly design of Kutchina chimneys, making them easy to clean and maintain for optimal performance.

    Enhanced kitchen aesthetics: Discuss how Kutchina chimneys add a touch of elegance to kitchens, complementing various interior styles.

5. Customer Satisfaction and Testimonials

    Showcase positive testimonials and feedback from satisfied Kutchina customers, highlighting their experiences with the brand's chimneys.

    Discuss any awards or accolades received by Kutchina for its innovative and reliable chimney solutions.

6. Conclusion: Elevating Kitchen Experiences with Kutchina

    Summarize the key points about Kutchina chimneys, emphasizing their role in transforming ordinary kitchens into efficient, clean, and inviting spaces.

    Kutchina chimney options to enhance their kitchen experiences.

Kutchina chimneys are renowned for their innovation among homeowners. Here are some of the key features of Kutchina chimneys:

1. Powerful Suction Capacity:

    Kutchina chimneys come with powerful motors that offer high suction capacity, effectively removing smoke, odors, and grease from the kitchen.

2. Advanced Filter Options:

    Kutchina chimneys are equipped with various types of filters, including baffle filters, cassette filters, and charcoal filters. These filters efficiently trap grease, oil particles, and odors, ensuring clean and fresh air circulation in the kitchen.

3. Energy-Efficient Operation:

    Kutchina chimneys are designed to be energy-efficient, consuming minimal electricity while delivering optimal performance. This feature not only saves energy but also reduces electricity bills.

4. Low Noise Levels:

    Kutchina chimneys operate quietly, minimizing noise pollution in the kitchen. Ensures a peaceful cooking environment without disturbances from the chimney's operation.

5. Touch Control Panel:

    Many Kutchina chimneys feature touch control panels that offer ease of operation. These intuitive panels allow users to control various functions, such as fan speed, lighting, and timer settings, with a simple touch.

6. LED Lighting:

    Kutchina chimneys are equipped with bright and energy-efficient LED lights that illuminate the cooking area. These lights enhance visibility, making cooking easier while adding a stylish element to the kitchen.

7. Auto-Clean Technology:

    Some Kutchina chimneys come with auto-clean technology, which automatically cleans the filters and removes accumulated grease. This feature ensures hassle-free maintenance and prolongs the chimney's lifespan.

8. Heat Auto-Clean Function:

    Kutchina chimneys with heat auto-clean function use heat to dissolve sticky and oily particles, keeping the filters clean and enhancing the chimney's efficiency.

9. Ductless Operation:

    Certain Kutchina chimneys can operate ductless, using recirculation technology to purify the air. This flexibility allows installation in kitchens where ductwork is not possible.

10. Sleek and Stylish Design:

    Kutchina Chimneys are known for their kitchen decor. The stylish appearance enhances the overall aesthetics of the cooking space.

11. Timer Function:

    Some Kutchina chimneys have a timer function, allowing users to set the operating time. This feature is useful for automatic shutdown after a specific duration, ensuring energy efficiency and convenience.

These features collectively make Kutchina chimneys a popular choice for homeowners, providing efficient and convenient solutions for kitchen ventilation.

Using Kutchina chimneys in your kitchen can offer many benefits, creating a healthier, cleaner, and more comfortable cooking environment. Here are the key advantages of using Kutchina chimneys:

1. Improved Indoor Air Quality:

    Kutchina chimneys effectively remove smoke, grease particles, and cooking odors from the air. Helps maintain high indoor air quality, ensuring a healthier atmosphere for you and your family.

2. Removal of Harmful Gases:

    Cooking processes can release harmful gases such as carbon monoxide. Kutchina chimneys help eliminate these gases, safeguarding the health of your family members.

3. Prevention of Grease Buildup:

    Chimneys prevent grease particles from settling on kitchen surfaces, including walls, cabinets, and appliances. Reduces the effort needed for cleaning and maintenance in the kitchen.

4. Enhanced Kitchen Hygiene:

    By capturing grease and other pollutants, Kutchina chimneys maintain a hygienic kitchen environment. A cleaner kitchen promotes better food preparation practices and overall hygiene.

5. Odor Control:

    Cooking odors can be overwhelming and can spread throughout your home. Kutchina chimneys efficiently remove odors, ensuring your kitchen and home remain fresh and pleasant-smelling.

6. Protects Kitchen Decor:

    Grease and smoke can tarnish kitchen interiors over time. Kutchina chimneys protect your kitchen decor and prevent discoloration, helping to maintain the aesthetic appeal of your cooking space.

7. Energy Efficiency:

    Kutchina chimneys are designed to be energy-efficient, consuming minimal electricity while providing optimal performance. This energy efficiency contributes to reduced electricity bills.

8. Peaceful Cooking Environment:

    Kutchina chimneys operate quietly, minimizing noise in the kitchen. Creates a peaceful cooking environment, allowing you to focus on your culinary creations without disturbances.

9. Extended Appliance Lifespan:

    By preventing the buildup of grease and grime on kitchen appliances, Kutchina chimneys contribute to the extended lifespan and improved performance of your cooking appliances.

10. Adds Elegance to Your Kitchen:

    Kutchina chimneys come in stylish designs. They not only serve a functional purpose but also enhance the visual appeal of your cooking space.

In summary, Kutchina chimneys offer a range of benefits, from ensuring clean air and hygiene to enhancing the overall cooking experience and aesthetics of your kitchen. Investing in a Kutchina chimney can significantly improve your kitchen environment and overall quality of life.

Installation of Kutchina Chimneys

    A professional technician installed your Kutchina chimney, including correct positioning, secure mounting, and appropriate ductwork if required.

    Choosing the Right Location: Select a suitable location for the chimney, preferably above the cooktop or stove. Ensure no obstructions and enough space for the chimney to capture smoke and odors effectively.

    Ductwork Installation: If your Kutchina chimney requires ductwork, ensure it is installed properly. The ducts should be straight and short with minimal bends to allow efficient airflow.

    Electrical Connection: Ensure the chimney is correctly connected to the power supply. Follow the manufacturer's guidelines and safety instructions while connecting the electrical components.

Maintenance of Kutchina Chimneys:

    Regular Cleaning: Clean the chimney filters and surface debris. Follow the user manual for specific cleaning instructions. Some Kutchina chimneys come with auto-clean features that make maintenance easier.

    Filter Replacement: If your chimney uses filters (such as baffle filters or charcoal filters), replace them as recommended by the manufacturer. Clean filters ensure optimal performance.

    Check for Damages

Inspect the chimney for any damages or signs of wear and tear.

Pay attention to the motor, fan, and lights.

    Grease Tray Maintenance: If your chimney has a grease collection tray, clean it regularly to prevent overflow and ensure efficient functioning.

    Maintaining Ventilation: Ensure that the ventilation ducts are clear and free from blockages. Regularly inspect the external vent to prevent birds or debris from clogging the opening.

    Professional Servicing: Consider scheduling professional servicing of your Kutchina chimney at least once a year. Experienced technicians can conduct a thorough inspection, clean internal components, and make necessary adjustments for optimal performance.

    Avoiding DIY Repairs: If you encounter issues with your chimney, avoid attempting major repairs yourself. Contact the manufacturer's customer service or a certified technician to assess and fix the problem safely.

By following these installation and maintenance guidelines, you can ensure that your Kutchina chimney operates efficiently, providing clean and fresh air in your kitchen for years.

Customer Reviews and Testimonials

Performance and satisfaction levels of Kutchina Chimneys. Here are some potential testimonials and reviews based on customers' experiences

1. Satisfied Customer Experience

    "I am extremely satisfied with my Kutchina chimney! The powerful suction, quiet operation, and easy maintenance have made my cooking experience so much better. The installation was smooth, and the chimney looks great in my kitchen!" - Sarah M.

2. Impressed with Efficiency

    "I purchased a Kutchina chimney a few months ago, and I am impressed with its efficiency. It quickly removes all the smoke and odors from my kitchen, leaving the air clean and fresh. The auto-clean feature is a game-changer – hassle-free maintenance at its best!" - David P.

3. Clean and Stylish Addition

    "Not only does my Kutchina chimney keep my kitchen clean and odor-free, but it also adds a touch of elegance to the space. The LED lights are bright, and the touch control panel is very user-friendly. I highly recommend Kutchina Chimneys!" - Emily L.

4. Excellent Customer Service

    "I had a fantastic experience with Kutchina's customer service team. They were responsive knowledgeable, and resolved my query promptly. It's not just the excellent product, but also the outstanding customer support that makes Kutchina stand out!" - Michael H.

5. Lifesaver for Open Kitchen Layouts

    "We have an open kitchen layout, and our Kutchina chimney has been a lifesaver! It effectively removes all the cooking fumes and keeps our living area smoke-free. I can cook without worrying about the entire house smelling like food. Truly a great investment!" - Lisa C.

6. Value for Money

    "I was initially hesitant about spending on a chimney, but Kutchina proved worth every penny. The quality, performance, and durability are exceptional. It's a long-term investment in my kitchen's cleanliness and my family's health." - Jason R.

7. Easy to Clean and Maintain

    "I love how easy it is to clean my Kutchina chimney. The filters are simple to remove and wash. The auto-clean function works like a charm. It saves me time and effort, allowing me to focus on what I love – cooking!" - Amanda S.

These testimonials reflect the positive experiences of customers who have chosen Kutchina chimneys for their kitchens. Reading such reviews can help potential buyers make informed decisions, highlighting the satisfaction and benefits real users have gained from their Kutchina chimney purchases.

Conclusion: Elevating Your Kitchen Experience with Kutchina Chimneys

In the heart of every home, where culinary creations come to life and cherished moments are shared, a Kutchina chimney is a testament to innovation, efficiency, and elegance. As we conclude our exploration of Kutchina chimneys, it becomes evident that these appliances are more than just kitchen fixtures – they are transformative elements that elevate your cooking experience.

A Clean and Healthy Kitchen

    Kutchina chimneys ensure your kitchen remains clean and free from smoke, grease, and odors. By eliminating harmful pollutants, these chimneys create a healthier environment for you and your family, safeguarding your well-being.

Efficiency in Action:

    With powerful suction capabilities and advanced filtration systems, Kutchina chimneys remove impurities, leaving your kitchen air fresh and pure. The ease of use, quiet operation, and intuitive controls make cooking delightful and hassle-free.

Aesthetics and Elegance:

    Beyond functionality, Kutchina chimneys add a touch of sophistication to your kitchen space. Their sleek designs, coupled with energy-efficient LED lighting, not only enhance visibility but also augment the overall aesthetics of your culinary haven.

Innovative Solutions, Lasting Satisfaction:

    Whether it's the convenience of auto-clean technology, the variety of filter options, or the outstanding customer support, Kutchina Chimneys offers innovative solutions tailored to your needs. The longevity and durability of these appliances ensure lasting satisfaction, making them a valuable addition to your home.

In choosing a Kutchina chimney, you're not just investing in a kitchen appliance; you're investing in the comfort, health, and joy of your home. Embrace the future of cooking with Kutchina, and let your kitchen breathe with freshness, cleanliness, and style. Welcome to a new era of culinary excellence – the world of Kutchina chimneys.

[clochanamarc]

normally i hate argument scenes in tv shows or movies or podcasts (like, just from the listening perspective, bc it's usually big loud angry man voice vs. small quiet frantic lady voice) but i gotta say, wild.erness is really delivering an excellent argument scene where it's like, loud angry man voice vs. LOUDER ANGRIER female voice, like fabulous shit besties, i would like fifty more of these.

[astralpenguin]

i think everyone should watch a performance of la cage aux folles at least once in their lives

[dorothygale]

consider: non-rollercoaster wife means you can use the single rider line and there's always somebody to hold your stuff

but it's no fun by yourself!! and depending on the setup of the seats you can usually get two seats together from the single rider line. my rollercoaster wife and i have it all figured out

[ventresses]

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (6/?) - Blue & Green

Star Wars + Text Posts & Headlines

Note from OP:

In looking back, I have mixed feelings about that last Mace Windu one, because while it's somewhat relevant to his character in the sense that he IS extremely powerful fighter, I also feel like it also veers too much into the "Angry Black Person" stereotype/trope, &/or that it is pulling too much from other memorable characters of Samuel L. Jackson's, not from the personality of Mace Windu himself.

I'm on the fence whether I should remove it from the post or just leave it there, so I'm just going to leave these remarks, and also drop the link to a really good post I saw a few days ago, discussing Mace Windu’s character in the fandom, I highly recommend checking it out:

[wandasaura]

THE ONE YOU REACHED FOR

summary — after you decide to be a brat as a means to get natasha’s attention, she punishes you, though wanda thinks she’s entirely too soft

warning(s) — married wandanat, dom/sub relationship, bratting, punishment, grinding, humiliation, spanking, orgasm control, daddy kink, minor choking, strap-on usage, degrading, praise, oh so much reassurance, aftercare, wanda being a menace, reader being a menace right back, essentially enemies to lovers but reader’s stubborn, men/minors dni

authors note — this series was inspired by gold rush on ao3! i highly recommend checking it out! that being said, i may have gotten carried away with this dynamic but i absolutely adore wandanat and the budding relationship between wanda and r (even if r is too stubborn to see it yet), apart of the you are in love universe

you are in love universe

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

Natasha’s office was cold. Your legs and arms were adorned in a layer of goosebumps that even a night in the Antarctic would envy, but she made no indication that she even noticed your violent shivering. You were just thankful she hadn’t made you face the wall, at least now you could watch as she sifted through emails and excel word documents with ease. Your nose scrunched in disgust when you caught sight of a particularly grueling math equation, but she had tackled it with grace, something she did frequently. Nothing could rattle her composure, not even your brattiness on the hottest summer day New Jersey had seen all season.

You heard Wanda’s footsteps before you saw her, but there was no doubt in your mind that the auburn-haired Sokovian was the one coming up the stairs. Nobody else had a key to the house, nobody save from you and well, you were already inside. The Maximoff’s were a high profile couple. Even before you’d gotten into a relationship with Natasha had you known of their existence. It was hard not to know of them, their multi-billion dollar law firm was at the top of its game and every celebrity and major corporation wanted them on their side. You’d want them on your side too if it ever came down to it, but thankfully you’d managed to stay out of trouble. Legally at least.

You saw Wanda before Natasha did, though you knew the scarlet-haired woman had heard her office door squeak on its hinges when she entered. Your cheeks flushed pink when Wanda’s eyes met yours and she raised a questioning brow at your predicament. She didn’t address you, no she completely ignored you in favor of sparking up conversation with her wife, the woman you had initially sought attention from.

“What’s she doing here?” Wanda questioned smoothly, her perfectly manicured hands finding their rightful place on Natasha’s shoulders, working out a knot near the nape of her neck. You huffed your annoyance, watching them with narrowed eyes as you pulled your arms closer around your torso and tried to keep warm. Initially, the cold had been comforting. It was blisteringly hot outside, and when you’d entered your cheeks had been flush from the sun, but now you wished Natasha would turn down the air conditioning or at least take pity on your chattering teeth and throw you the hoodie that laid unused on the couch beside her.

“Wanted attention. She almost had it too.” Natasha shrugged, turning her head just enough to meet Wanda’s waiting lips. Their kiss was sweet, nothing short of marital, but it made your belly burn with envy as you watched Wanda get what you wanted.

“She’s freezing, Nat.” Wanda rolled her eyes softly, having noticed the slightest tint of blue that adorned your usually very pink lips. She reached for the hoodie on the couch, chucking it over to you despite her wife’s protests. That was all the attention you received before she was back to being entirely occupied with her wife. “How long has she been in the corner?”

“Mm, bought half an hour.” Natasha mused only half interested in the conversation Wanda was attempting to have, her fingers already back to typing frantically on the noisy keyboard. Typically, you loved the sound of her typing. It was fast paced and soothing, but now you wanted nothing more than to throw the keyboard across the room and demand she never touched it again. You were in no position to be making such demands, but still you let yourself imagine the satisfaction of the action.

You slipped the hoodie over your head, smoothing down your wild hair the second your hands had slipped past the tight cuffs at the bottom of the sleeves. The article was warm and well worn, though all you really cared to notice was how it smelled distinctly of citrus and calm. You could identify the softest note of coconut and maybe mandarin, and your brows furrowed. Natasha wore vanilla. She never ventured into anything fruity, claiming she herself was fruity enough to spare the general public of smelling it too. That meant the hoodie had to be Wanda’s, and while irrational, you felt like it burned your skin by just touching you.

“What’d she do? Bite too hard?” Wanda teased, not even glancing in your direction despite you being the topic of conversation. It was utterly humiliating, but you’ve learned to expect nothing less when Wanda’s around. The woman has a real knack for getting under your skin, intentional or not. “You should really train your pet better.”

“I’m not a pet.” You huffed out, crossing your arms over your chest defiantly, but your outburst was ignored by both women. If you didn’t know superpowers were just a thing of fiction, you would’ve believed that you’d become invisible.

Natasha laughed at Wanda’s assumption, though she shook her head in response. “I asked her to give me five minutes. All the money I give her, you’d think she would’ve gotten herself a watch. Needy little thing couldn’t even last three before she was crawling into my lap and trying to undress me.”

“You're answering Pepper’s emails.” Wanda laughed amusedly, completely bypassing Natasha’s summary of events, not at all surprised by your unwillingness to be patient. Patience seemed to be your biggest undoing, even after seven months of being taught the importance of it. “She’ll have a heart attack. It hasn’t sat in your inbox for at least two weeks yet.”

You couldn’t see Natasha’s face, but you could imagine her rolling her eyes. After almost a year of being under contract with the lawyer, you’d come to know her mannerisms like the back of your hand. This type of back and forth wasn’t new to you, but it’s the first time you’d been forced to watch without any kind of attention yourself. To say you hated it was an understatement.

“Did I tell you that you could leave that corner?” Natasha growled, not even having to look over her shoulder to know that you were starting to migrate toward them. Your footsteps were light, perfectly inaudible, but as well as you knew her, she knew you even better.

“I want you!” You whined rather petulantly, not caring how you came across, not caring that you’d probably just earned yourself at least twenty spanks for not only talking back to her but for leaving your post before you’d been given permission. You’d played this game too many times before. Wanda had seen you play this game too many times. But still, you never learned how to make things easy for yourself.

“Did I tell you that you could leave that corner?” Natasha all but growled, still not turning around to give you even a sliver of attention. Your usual soft and attentive dominant was uncharacteristically cruel today, and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were toeing a little too close to the line

“No.” You answered meekly, digging your naked toes into the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Shame flooded your senses, a desperate need to be good coming over you and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Please Daddy. I don’t wanna stand in the corner anymore. It’s cold!”

“I swear, Nat. You need to do something about her attitude.” Wanda remarked, her eyes focused on her perfectly manicured fingers as she poked and pushed at her cuticles, entirely uninterested in your predicament.

“Yeah? And what would you suggest?” Natasha scoffed rather uninterestedly, switching through her tabs until she’d gotten back to her excel spreadsheet and transferred whatever finances she’d been focusing on for the last hour.

“Oh, I’d break her.” Wanda snorted, highly amused that Natasha thought you’d be able to handle whatever punishment she would have dished out for your disobedience. “That little girl doesn’t want to know what I’d do to her.”

Your insides burned at Wanda’s implication, and you couldn’t decipher if it was your burning hatred for her and her constant need to appear smug and all powerful, or if it was your desperate curiosity to take her up on that challenge that sparked such feeling in your belly. Whatever it was, it only added to the growing need between your thighs.

“Daddy.” You whined, shuffling on your feet as you contemplated going completely against her and approaching her lap with a pleading gaze, or retreating back to the corner until she deemed you sorry enough to leave it. “Please.”

“You’ve got a brat to tame, Romanoff.” Wanda mused, pressing one last kiss to Natasha’s cheek before she took up space on the two-person couch pressed up against the wall and just beneath the tightly closed and locked window.

“We both know that’s your forte.” Natasha scoffed, huffing out a laugh as she returned her attention to whatever problem Pepper was emailing her about. After seven months, you’d become well versed in the names and job descriptions of most of their employees, and you knew that if Pepper was emailing Natasha for anything at all, that it was important. A pit formed in your belly thinking about how you couldn’t even wait five minutes before taking her attention into your own hands. Clearly you’d interrupted something important.

“Daddy!” You pleaded, tears brimming your eyes as your guilt and desperate need consumed you. You weren’t sure which feeling was the cause for your tears, probably both, but you were at your breaking point and her silent game was only working to undo you faster than you could tolerate it. “Please.” You cried out weakly, nervously chewing on the string of the hoodie, not caring if Wanda would be repulsed by the action, nor if you ruined her hoodie because of it.

“Out of your mouth.” The Sokovian redhead demanded, not harshly, but not kindly either. You hadn’t even realized her eyes had been watching your movements, but your cheeks burned at the reprimand and the string of the hoodie, now damp from your tongue and teeth, dropped back to where it had previously been hanging. You hated giving her the satisfaction of your obedience, but your brain was too overwhelmed to be anything but compliant.

Your nails took the place of the hoodie’s string, already bitten down to the bone as a result of your crippling anxiety and desire to fidget with anything and everything. Natasha had been attempting to break that nasty habit, but she wasn’t around nearly enough for her efforts to be consistent. You saw her a handful of times a week, some days for the sole purpose of engaging in kink, sometimes just because she liked to know you as a person just as much as she liked to know you as her submissive, but there were weeks where she was needed on business and the best you’d get was a measly phone call and text messages. If you weren’t contractually binded, and had met by chance, you would have no hesitation about considering her a friend, though you liked much more to call her your daddy.

“Come here, baby.” Natasha demanded, pushing away from her desk and swiveling on the chair until her eyes met yours. You’d half expected Wanda to reprimand her for being too soft with you, but it seemed even the Sokovian could tell that you’d passed the point of being bratty and were now drowning in your own thoughts. There was a fine line between punishment and neglect, and even if the lawyer thought you were in need of serious correction, she’d be cruel to even consider leaving you in this state.

You approached Natasha hurriedly, sinking into her lap without hesitation. Your arms looped around her neck tightly, almost challenging her to even attempt to break your grip and send you back to the corner. “Don’t like bein’ ignored.” You sniffled, digging your face into her shoulder, hiding away from Wanda’s heavy gaze and the shame of your previous actions.

“Neither does Daddy.” Natasha stated matter of factly, only adding to the shame that was bubbling over in your belly. Her head rested heavily on the back of your head, allowing you to stay hidden as you attempted to keep yourself together. “Don’t think I’ve gotten about your snarky comment toward Wanda either, or how you deliberately disobeyed me when you took it upon yourself to leave the corner.”

You already knew where she was going with this line of conversation, and you whined pleadingly into her neck, desperate to just avoid another round of punishment in favor of being satisfied. Your hips rocked against hers, your fingers curling into her hair the way you know she likes, tugging gently when you weren’t immediately rewarded with a soft moan. Your bout of regret having clearly been forgotten about as you resumed the bratty tactics that had gotten you into the predicament in the first place.

A sharp sting spread up your thigh in seconds, the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing around the otherwise quiet office. You gasped in shock, pulling your face away from her neck to look deep into her eyes and search for forgiveness, but all you found was annoyance. You huffed, knowing that you were too far in to back down now, and so tauntingly, you resumed the act of rocking your hips into hers, not lost on the fact that she had a strap confined beneath her business slacks.

“Is it the red one I like, Daddy?” You asked coyly, letting your hand drop from where it was wrapped around her shoulders and teasingly venture down between the valley of her breasts until you came to the bulge in her pants. You squeezed experimentally, rewarded with her breathy moan when the hilt of the harness pressed against her clit, confirmation that she was at least half as worked up as you.

“Have I taught you nothing, Natalia?” Wanda growled, watching the scene unfold before her. You’d almost forgotten she was even in the room, and daringly your eyes snapped to hers. Wanda didn’t fold beneath your heavy glare, merely matching your stare with disinterest in her eyes. Natasha would’ve met your glare. She would’ve narrowed her eyes and silently dared you to keep up with that attitude, but Wanda acted like you weren’t shooting daggers through her. “If you do not want me to come over there and handle you myself, you will fix your attitude, brat.” The slight rasp in Wanda’s tone was undeniably a turn on, but you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten to you. Instead, you stuck your tongue out at her, unsure of how else you were meant to defy her wishes.

Before Wanda could get off the couch, a tick in her jaw at your blatant defiance, Natasha’s fingers were twisting into your hair and tugging your attention back to her. Your glare softened immediately, and sweetly, you placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Do I need to remind you of our rules?” She warned, and you huffed in defeat, wringing your hands together in your lap as you shook your head. “Then you will drop your attitude and apologize to Wanda.”

“I didn’t even do anything, Daddy!” You groaned, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

Clearly that wasn’t the response Natasha was looking for, because in only a matter of seconds you were being hauled off her lap but a handful of your hair and forced to bend over the edge of the desk she’d been occupying for the last hour. “What is rule number six?” She growled in your ear, her hot and heavy breath only adding to the goosebumps that adorned your skin. You’d almost forgotten about them at this point, entirely warmed by her body being so close to yours and the hoodie over your shoulders, but now the memory of them was back and your teeth chattered in response.

A heavy hand met your denim covered ass cheek and your whined, back arching upward in an attempt to dodge her next hit. “What is rule number six?” She asked through gritted teeth, forcing you back into position the way she liked.

“I will show respect to Daddy and her friends.” You huffed, “But Wanda’s not your friend! She’s your wife! That’s not in the rules!”

“She is my wife, that’s right. That means you should not only show her respect, but worship the ground she walks on, not be a disobedient brat.” Natasha seethed, landing another harsh spank to the softest spot of your thigh, not caring that you’re particularly sensitive there, nor that you let out a sharp cry of pain that was in no way mixed with pleasure in response. You’d always hated when she spanked the back of your thighs. It was one of your only limitations when you’d been filling out the contract. It wasn’t a hard no, she never would’ve struck you there if it was, but it was something you’d requested be done sparingly, and clearly you’d worked her up enough to earn yourself one.

“M’kay.” You sniffled, burying your face in your folded arms, not wanting to even spare Wanda a glance. You were absolutely certain there was a smug smile on her lips as she watched you finally be dealt with, but something told you this was the bottom of the barrel when it came to punishments she was capable of.

“How many spanks do you get when you break a rule?” Natasha asked lowly, her left hand still tangled into your hair, and she pulled sharply, forcing your back to arch in her direction, not allowing you the dignity to hide away.

“Ten.” You cried out weakly, trying to alleviate the sting in your scalp as you followed your hand. You’d always been flexible, years of sports and training had assured that, but not even that could completely help you in this situation as she pulled back farther and farther until you stopped struggling in her grip and just admitted defeat. You could safeword if you needed to. Punishments were not an exception to your comfort, but you trusted her to not push your limits, and shamefully, you knew that you needed this. You’d feel too guilty to cope if she completely forwent punishment.

“And how many rules have you broken?” She asked, the softest tinge of her accent bleeding into her words as she let herself completely surrender to her dominant headspace. You always loved when you worked her up to this point, but you hated that this time it was a result of your bratty actions that had done it.

“Um, I don’t know.” You sniffled, but clearly that wasn’t the right answer as she tugged at your hair again, ignoring your sharp cry and the twitch of your fingers as you held onto the edge of the desk.

“What are the rules?” Natasha asked, only slackening her grip the slightest bit. It helped with the sting in your scalp, but it wasn’t completely gone yet.

“I will tell Daddy what I need and what makes me uncomfortable. I will drink at least one bottle of water a day. I will show respect to Daddy and her friends. I will not touch myself without permission. I will not cum without permission. I will use my safeword if I need to. I deserve aftercare.” You rattled off the list with a practiced ease, having practically had the rules engraved in your mind since the very first week of the arrangement.

“Did you tell me that you were feeling anxious being left in that corner?” Natasha’s voice was soft, her grip in your hair gentle and comforting. She let you rest against her chest, your punishment temporarily forgotten as she walked you through the reason behind the awaiting spanking.

Even Wanda had softened in the corner of the room, looking at you with a gleam of something indistinguishable in her eyes. You hated the sight of it, but you couldn’t look away with Natasha’s hand in your hair, so instead you opted to close your eyes, and Natasha allowed you to. Talking about your anxiety was not your favorite pastime, and it was typically avoided whenever Wanda or anyone else was around, but it seems today you wouldn’t get that courtesy. You knew you could safeword, you knew you could ask for Wanda to step out during this conversation at the very least, but as much as you don’t like her, you thought she deserved some kind of explanation for your earlier actions when you’d found comfort in destroying her hoodie. She had to have some idea by now. Natasha offered you too much reassurance for it to have gone completely unnoticed. You’d rather her have the answers then speculate.

“No, Daddy.” You whispered shamefully. “I-I was okay until Wanda said you were answering Pepper. I didn’t like you ignoring me, but I wasn’t anxious.”

“What made you anxious?” Natasha asked calmly, fully loosening her grip on your hair, instead settling for scratching softly at your scalp and letting you melt fully into her, her unoccupied arm wrapping around your torso and keeping you close. You’d never had a dominant prior to Natasha. You’d tested the waters with previous partners sure, but you’d never actively pursued it in the way that you were now. Natasha’s dominance over you didn’t stop once you left the bedroom, and unlike your previous flings, she always tried to understand your triggers so she could avoid them in the future, both sexually and domestically.

“Pepper only emails you when it’s important. I couldn’t be good for five minutes and I interrupted you when you were busy. After I barged in unannounced. I felt– I feel bad.” You whispered softly, dropping your chin to your chest, desperately craving her touch and correction. Nothing would calm the raging storm of guilt in your belly until she punished you. You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself until you knew that she did, and words weren’t enough.

“Pepper does email me for important things most times, but she was only asking about the colors of the banquet, milyy. If it was important, I would have told you that.” Natasha gently informs, and your shoulders deflate in relief. You hadn’t even realized you’d been so tense, but with the promise that you hadn’t entirely disrupted her, you could relax. “Why didn’t you safeword? You know that if you start to feel anxious, no matter what, I expect you to safeword.”

“I thought I deserved to feel bad for interrupting you and being bad.” You muttered shyly, acutely aware of how Wanda’s breath caught in her throat at your explanation. You hadn’t ever shown this side of yourself to her. It was always Natasha alone who had the misfortune of catching you in an episode of panic.

“You are not bad. You are never bad. I do not want to hear you say that again, do you understand, detka?” Natasha asked sternly, and you merely shrugged.

“I was mean to Wanda, and I interrupted you, and I didn’t listen. That’s three rules. Please Daddy.” Natasha knew you needed her to spank you. You needed to clear your head, and you needed her to help you, but she wouldn’t relent until she heard you repeat her words.

“In a second, milyy.” She assured you gently, her hand leaving your hair entirely in favor of spinning you around in her arms and tilting your chin upward until you had no choice but to look her in the eye. “I want you to tell me that you are not bad.”

“I’m not bad.” You didn’t believe it. She knew you didn’t believe it, but for right now, she let it go. A soft kiss was placed on the tip of your nose, a sweet action that you had made clear you adored. Unlike the giggles it usually provoked, you merely smiled weakly and leaned into her touch.

“You’re getting thirty spanks. We’ll see if you deserve my strap after that.” Natasha nodded, content for the moment. She spun you back around, making quick word of the button and zipper on your denim shorts. Your cheeks flushed red, remembering the specific choice of underwear you’d chosen that morning. Baby pink flowers adorned your ass, and the somewhat frilly elastic edges were a gentle shade of green that would make Natasha’s eyes pop if she held it up to her face.

You felt entirely exposed knowing that Wanda was witnessing this and seeing your less than sexy underwear, but it wasn’t the first time she’s seen you be bent over a surface in her house. You remembered vividly the last time she had watched Natasha spank you. It had been after a long day in the office, and Wanda had come home to find you bent over the arm of the couch. She made a joke that Natasha intended to christen every piece of furniture in the house, and while it hadn’t been funny to you, Natasha had laughed loudly and freely in response.

“You will count after each one. If you mess up, we’re starting over. Do you understand?” She asked, pressing down on your back and assuring that you understood where you were meant to remain for the duration of your spanking. You were on your tippy toes, the top of your thighs pressing into the edge of her desk, but you didn’t have the right to complain about the uncomfortable position, so you merely nodded your head and braced for the first hit.

It came seconds later, powerful and unforgiving on your left asscheek. You felt the flesh bounce in response, and the string that was left behind was so sinfully pleasant that you ground your teeth together and choked out a harsh, “One, Daddy.”

The second hit was delivered all the same, left in the same exact spot with a practiced precision. Leave it to Natasha to have good enough hand-eye contact to be able to leave a handprint on your ass so vividly you’d see it leftover for days. The third hit came to your right asscheek, and a gush of arousal further dampened your already saturated panties. The flowers beneath your sopping entrance were undoubtedly a dark shade of pink by now, and you could only imagine what the sight looked like to her.

The fourth and fifth spank came directly after one another, and you counted them off rather breathlessly as her hand gently massaged your stinging flesh until it was nothing more than a pleasant ache. Your eyes were pinched shut, your breathing was shallow, but you craved the next hit, and when it didn’t come, you whined in protest and pushed your ass out toward her hips.

“Begging for me to spank you. How pathetic.” Natasha taunted, though she didn’t disappoint, and the next spank came quickly after, directed toward the center of your ass.

By sixteen, there were tears in your eyes and a desperate pulse in your clit, but you hadn’t miscounted nor forgotten about numbers entirely, and Natasha was beaming with pride. “Good girl.” She cooed, her fingers trailing over your panties until she came upon the wet patch between the apex of your thighs. “So fucking wet. Does it turn you on when Daddy spanks your ass?”

Natasha knows that it does. You’ve asked for enough spankings in the last seven months to prove that fact to her, but she still finds a way to humiliate you every time you find yourself bent over as punishment. There is a very thin line between a maintenance spanking and a punishment, but you know that by time you reach the thirtieth spank you’ll have crossed the threshold of pleasurable pain. “Y-Yes. Daddy please. Please.”

“What do you want, detka? Use your words. You had no problem using them earlier when you wanted to mouth off with my wife.” All the while her hand was still buried between your thighs, avoided your clit with skilled ease, and it was slowly driving you insane. Her index finger pushed against your entrance overtop of your panties, not enough to provide any semblance of pleasure, but still enough to make your knees tremble beneath your awkwardly supported weight.

“Spank me. Please, Daddy, spank me!” You sobbed, attempting to reach for the edge of the desk in a weak attempt to ground yourself in the moment, but with your half-floating position, you found that it was just out of reach and you cried out in frustration as you settled for digging your blunt fingernails into her desk instead.

You hadn’t noticed Wanda approaching you, too lost in the pleasure of Natasha’s fingers on your cunt and the delicious sting in your ass, but you felt her nonetheless. Her hands, so soft and warm compared to the freezing temperature of the office, found a place on your lower back that was still covered by the thick material of her sweatshirt.

“Shh, dorogoy.” She soothed you gently, a stark contrast to her typical cold and sharp tone. You didn’t have any fight left in you to care about her close proximity to you, and desperately you scrounged about until your hand found hers and squeezed tightly. It was at that moment that Natasha resumed her prior actions, and a harsh and sharp spank landed on your left asscheck.

“Seventeen, Daddy!” You cried out, squeezing Wanda’s hand tightly. You were beginning to regret breaking so many rules. You were still thirteen spanks away from being forgiven, and that pleasurable pain that you found comfort in was turning bitter the harsher she was with you. You needed this, both of you knew that, but that never made it any easier to swallow in the moment. Tomorrow, you’d think twice before sitting down for meals or tasks, you’d fondly poke at your sore ass and giggle at the dull ache that brought a sense of comfort and security over you, but for right now, it was torture, especially when you were so desperate for release.

Her hits only seemed to get harsher and stronger as you got closer to thirty, but Wanda didn’t pull away even for a second and every so often Natasha would whisper praises in your ear that made your insides turn to mush. You were lost in your head, mindlessly counting out numbers with no real acknowledgement for what they meant, just desperate to please her. It was only when you reached number twenty five that Natasha switched up her tactics and paused for a moment, taking the time to undress you fully and surrender your body to the harsh cold of her office.

You whined when your pebbled nipples met the cold surface of her desk, already sensitive without the stimulating chilled surface. You squirmed for only a second before Natasha reprimanded you for trying to find a comfortable position, stilling immediately in fear of her adding more spanks or taking away your right to feel her cock in your pussy as a reward. This was a punishment, you would take it how she gave it unless you absolutely couldn’t.

“Five more.” She promised, leaving a soft kiss in the middle of your back. “I want you to tell me you’re not bad after each one, is that understood?”

When you didn’t answer, entirely lost in the blissful beginning of subspace, Wanda gently captured your attention, showing you a glimpse of her softer side. A side you would see more of if you didn’t try to get under her skin each and every time she was around. “Daddy asked you a question, milyy. She expects an answer.”

Breathing out shakily, you nodded your head. “Understood, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Natasha hummed, but that was the last offer of praise you were given before her hand clapped against the skin of your thigh and you whined and keened in response, trying to wiggle away from her harsh hits.

“No, Daddy!” You sobbed, your hand desperately fighting against Wanda’s hold. She let you go instantly, and you didn’t hesitate to reach down and rub at the sore spot she left with a deep pout on your lips. “Ow!” You whined, tears slipping past your eyes and dampening your cheeks as your shoulders trembled.

“Shh.” Natasha and Wanda cooed in sync, and if you weren’t so spaced out you would’ve rolled your eyes at their alikeness. “I know it hurts, milyy. I know you don’t like it, but this is important to Daddy. It’s important to me that you know you’re not bad. Only four more. You’re being such a good girl. My best girl. Making Daddy so proud, taking your punishment so good. Let Wanda hold your hand, and it’ll be over soon. Then you’ll get me cock. Okay?” Natasha gently fussed over your state of upset, the pads of her thumbs wiping the tears off of your face. You leaned into her gentle touch, savoring it before you nodded weakly.

The next hit came just as harsh as the first, but you’d been expecting it at the very least, and hadn’t had such a violent reaction. Wanda praised you through the entire ordeal, not even considering reprimanding you when your voice grew hoarse and you barely remembered to echo the words Natasha had asked you to repeat. She got the hint that this was one of your softer limits, so she settled for talking you through it rather than demanding you show her partner some respect. She felt so full of warmth as she watched you take the last three spanks with minimal complaints, knowing the level of trust it took to allow a dominant to use a weakness against you, even if it wasn’t in any way ill intended.

“No more, Daddy! No more. Please.” You sobbed when the last hit came, your thighs a gentle shade of pink that Natasha would have fussed over had she not been entirely too committed to making sure you were okay. Your thighs were slick with arousal, your clit pulsed with need, and she had every intention of making it better once she got you to calm down.

“No more. You did so good for me, detka. My good girl. Daddy’s so proud of you.” She cooed gently, pulling you up off the desk and into her waiting arms. You melted against her chest, pliant and putty in her hands as she gently massaged your stinging ass, careful to leave your thighs alone for the time being.

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed, fisting her shirt in your trembling fists, suddenly very aware of how clothed she and Wanda were in comparison to you. Even your pink and green panties had been discarded on the floor in a pile, the scent of your arousal heavy and thick in the air.

“All’s forgiven, milyy. You’re okay.” She reassured, peppering tiny kisses into the crown of your head before she pulled away completely and eased you back onto her desk, this time allowing you to rest on your back in a comfortable position. Her skilled fingers dipped between your dripping folds, collecting your wetness that awaited and begged for her touch. “You’re so wet. Is this all for me?” She teased gently, bringing her fingers up toward her mouth. Her tongue darted out to sweep against the digits, and she moaned in delight at the taste of you. It had been entirely too long since she’d gotten to properly devour you, but that would have to wait until a later date. She didn’t have the heart to leave you hanging any longer then she already had, especially not when you’d been such a good girl for her.

“Please.” You begged, your hooded eyes tracing her movements as she sucked her fingers clean and let them leave her mouth with an audible pop as she abruptly broke the suction. “Please, I want your cock. I’ve been good! Please Daddy, I want you inside of me!”

“You’ve been so good, little one. The best girl.” Natasha affirmed, already working on the button of her business pants. You watched her intently, not paying Wanda the slightest bit of attention though you should’ve known better than that. When you were distracted with the sight of Wanda, the Sokovian woman to your right had taken it upon yourself to work you up even further, clearly not yet satisfied with the length of time you’d had to wait to get to this very moment.

Her fingers found your nipple in only a matter of seconds, and you gasped out in a mixture of shock and pain when she pinched and pulled at your sensitive buds cynically. You arched up into her touch, not sure if you wanted more of it or none of it, and your eyes fluttered closed. Wanda didn’t like that your attention was no longer on Natasha, and she made that clear when she twisted your left nipple harshly. “Eyes open. Your Daddy may have forgiven you, but I’ve yet to get an apology.”

Your eyes snapped open at her words, frantically searching for Natasha as you refocused on her half undressed body. Her black pants were on in a heap on the floor residing beside your own pile of clothes, but her shit was still buttoned over her chest, wrinkled from your tight grip and somewhat disheveled from how aggressively she’d pulled you flush against her at the beginning of your punishment.

Your lips parted in lust when you caught sight of the red strap-on between her thighs. She hadn’t confirmed your suspicions before, but now it was undeniable that throughout this entire ordeal, she’d been packing your favorite toy between her thick and strong thighs. A needy whine left your lips when Wanda harshly slapped at your tits, the soft mounds of flesh bouncing as a result of her hits.

“I don’t think you deserve to be fucked by your favorite toy after mouthing off to me, but you’re Daddy’s too kind to go get a different one. You should thank her.” She hadn’t said you didn’t deserve to be fucked at all, but something about the idea of Natasha switching to a smaller strap seemed like a worse punishment then being left high and dry all together, and feverishly you thanked her for her generosity, not wanting to risk the chance of Wanda’s words actually packing a punch.

Gently, Natasha guided the tip of the strap into your entrance, letting you get accustomed to the stretch before she completely bottomed out inside of you. She’d only gotten the red strap recently, three weeks ago after a business trip to LA, and while you adored it and took it like a champ every time she pulled it out, it was significantly girthier than any of the other ones that resided in her and Wanda’s collection. She didn’t want to hurt you, no matter how many times you told her to be rough.

“Move. Daddy, move please! Fuck me!” You begged, writhing beneath Wanda’s hot hands as she kept up with her ministations on your sensitive and aching nipples.

“You want me to move, pretty girl? You want me to fuck this needy cunt?” Natasha’s thumb found your clit easily, and she rubbed harsh circles along your sensitive bundle of nerves the way she knew you liked it, perfectly content with the knowledge that you wouldn’t last a full five minutes if she kept up the way she was. She was close herself. The strap had been rubbing against her clit since she’d put it on that morning, not knowing you’d show up, but anticipating it anyways. She really did know you like the back of her hand.

“Please! Please! Please Daddy, I want it! I need it!” You babbled needily, uncaring for how you came across to Wanda. You arched into the touch of the Sokovian, you desperately leaned into the strap, your body attempting to stretch in multiple directions as you chased after all of the sensations the two married women were providing your already overstimulated body.

Natasha didn’t need to hear you beg anymore. She set a brutal pace as she snapped her hips, rocking the dildo into your pussy and simultaneously chasing the pressure it put on her clit. She toyed with your clit in unwavering determination to see you fall apart, her eyes pinched shut as she chased after her own pleasure and provided you with yours. Your incoherent babbling was like music to her ears as she pulled your thighs further apart and thrust deeper into your pussy, hammering your sensitive and tight walls with a punishing pace.

“G-Gonna cum! Daddy! Please! Please! I want to c-cum! Please!” You pleaded and writhed, thankful that Wanda had eased off your nipples and you could now focus fully on the sensations that spread through your body from the way Natasha worked your cunt.

“Is that how you ask?” Wanda teased, her hot hand laying softly on your neck. She didn’t squeeze, she wouldn’t without your explicit permission, which she didn’t have, but just the thought of her choking you like Natasha did had your mind reeling and the desperation growing. “Ask nicely.”

“Please can I cum Daddy? Please!” You sobbed, feeling the coil ready to snap with or without Natasha’s explicit permission. You so desperately wanted to be good, wanted to prove yourself not only to her but to Wanda, who seemed to question if you even knew the definition of obedience, but you couldn’t stave off your orgasm for much longer. You’d been desperate for her touch all day, and now that you finally had it the way that you wanted it, it was almost impossible to deny yourself that release.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock. Daddy’s gonna cum with you.” Natasha grunted in a manner that was so hot you nearly lost your mind. With Wanda’s hand still loosely around your neck and Natasha’s quick thrust and skilled fingers working you over, you fell over the edge and into a blinding orgasm that had tears falling from your eyes. That blissful taste of subspace that you’d been experiencing since spank seventeen took over in full force, and with the resolution of your climax, you surrendered to the fuzzy feeling in your mind.

Natasha kissed you gently, her tongue still tasting like your arousal from when she’d licked her fingers clean, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the taste of you on her lips. Your eyes fluttered closed when she stilled her hips and subsequently the dildo, drinking in every physical reminder of her touch like you were scared she’d vanish completely if you didn’t appreciate it.

When she started to pull out, wanting to rid herself of the harness after wearing it for so many hours, you whined in response, desperately pulling her closer to you. The strap-on rubbed against your sensitive walls in a way that was unpleasant at best, and you mourned the loss of the full feeling inside of you before it was even really gone.

“Not today, detka.” Natasha knew what you wanted. She knew how you liked to keep her strap buried inside of you for as long as she allowed after a session like this, but she couldn’t ignore her own discomfort for any longer, even if it meant bringing tears to your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay. Daddy’s still here.” She reassured softly, peppering kisses all over your face as she softly pulled the dildo out of you. You winced when your pussy squelched, a reminder of the wetness that still clung to your lower lips and thighs, but both women soothed your embarrassment with praises and reassurance.

“Clean yourself up.” Wanda nodded toward her wife, already managing to detangle your limbs from Natasha’s and exchange them for her own. It wasn’t the first time she’d assisted during aftercare, but it was the first time you’d been so far gone during it. She knew Natasha though, and the weight of the scene would surely dawn on her in only a handful of minutes now that she wasn’t being fuelled by adrenaline, and when that happened, when the crash came, Wanda knew that the Russian would want to be cleaned up and warm. “I’ll bring her to our bed. You need to focus on you for a couple of minutes.”

“Go with Wanda, baby.” Natasha didn’t argue with her wife, pressing a short kiss to both of your heads before she helped Wanda get a hold of you and cradle you to her chest. You had barely even recognized the shift, too sleepy and blissed out to realize that you were being carried away from Natasha and toward the warm master bedroom down the hall.

Wanda was gentle with you, and despite your hesitance to accept her help when you were in a fully sound headspace, you leaned into her now, craving more of her touch. Your glassy eyes searched for hers as she laid you gently in the center of the bed, already missing the warmth that she provided. You whined in protest, but Wanda only shushed you gently and stalked off toward the en-suite bathroom. You knew this routine well, but you were not at all fond of it.

A soft cry left your lips when you realized that you were all alone in their bed, and while their perfume lingered on the pillows and blankets, mixing together to create the most perfect and calming scent, it wasn’t as fulfilling as actually having them with you. The faucet running in the bathroom caught your attention, and just as you attempted to scramble off of the bed and follow the sound, Wanda’s voice had you stopping in your tracks and sinking into the plethora of pillows that surrounded you.

“Stay there, little one. I’ll be there in just a second.” She called out quietly, though her voice was laced with dominance that you couldn’t ignore. You whined pleadingly, looking between the open en-suite door and the hallway, desperate for either her or Natasha to come back and hold you. “Natty will be back soon. She’s probably getting you some water and a snack. You were such a good girl for her, malysh.”

“Good.” The word felt heavy on your tongue, but by some miracle you had managed to get it passed your lips. Your head was so fuzzy and void of any thoughts, but Wanda still praised your efforts.

When she came back into very, her hair was pinned up by a claw clip that you had seen Natasha wear a handful of times. You never really knew whose things were whose because the women shared everything so interchangeably, but despite your iffy relationship with Wanda, you thought it suited her well.

You were entirely too desperate for physical touch to care about who you sought it from (although secretly you were more than okay with it being Wanda who held you), and when her weight caused the mattress to dip as she joined you on the bed, you practically attacked her with your naked body. Her laughter was like music to your ears as she gently guided you into a lying position, shushing your complaints with a sweet and soft look in her green eyes.

“Such a good girl.” She cooed, dragging the damp washcloth up your inner thighs and over your sticky folds. You whined at the coldness of the rag and the rough material on your sensitive skin, but you made no attempt to wiggle away from it. “I know it’s cold, you’re being so good letting me clean you up. Do you hear that? That’s Natty.” Wanda smiled, effectively distracting you with the sounds of footsteps coming back up the stairs and toward the very room that you occupied.

“Daddy!” You whined, reaching for her the second you saw her in the doorway. As Wanda had promised, she had two bottles of water tucked beneath her arm and a sliced apple on a plate in her hands. She wore a gentle smile, her features no longer saturated in commanding dominance, much like Wanda’s weren’t either, though both women were highly aware of how you’d listen to their every command even without the practiced smolders they gave you.

“Just Natty, baby girl. It’s just Natty. We’re not playing right now, we’re all done.” She cooed gently, setting the plate of apples on the nightstand closest to the door before she reached out to take you into her arms. One bottle of water was passed to Wanda, who opened it thankfully and took a small sip, melting into the pillows against the headboard as she watched her wife fawn over you the way you deserve.

“Natty.” You whispered, preening as her hand found your hair and gently worked out any knots that had formed from when she grabbed you harshly. You melted into her touch, your forehead resting against her clothed stomach, though you took note of the fact that she was no longer wearing her business professional blouse, but rather an old t-shirt from her college years.

“Take a sip for me, baby love.” Natasha coaxed gently, unscrewing the lid on your own bottle of water and holding it up to your lips expectantly. You drank it up greedily, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away and set it down on the nightstand. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl. Are you going to safeword when you need to next time?” She asked softly, needing to hear your answer for her own peace of mind. The fog in your head had cleared up slightly, and you nodded apologetically.

“It was a bad day.” You whispered softly, knowing that it was no excuse but wanting to give her some context. “I forgot I had an exam in logistics, so when I showed up to class I was completely blindsided. Came here straight after ‘cause I just wanted you and I thought I was okay, then when I thought that I had interrupted something important I just got overwhelmed and didn’t wanna… I don’t even know. Didn’t know how to ask for what I needed. M’sorry. Won't happen again.” You rambled out your apology, pleading with her to understand and forgive you, even though you knew that she already had.

“It makes me feel bad when you don’t safeword, but it’s forgiven. All is forgiven, malen’kiy.” Natasha promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose that was still pink from the flush of your orgasm. Unlike the last time she’d rewarded you with the action, you giggled in response and leaned in closer silently begging her to do it again.

“Are you gonna mouth off to Wanda again?” Natasha teased, her fingers digging into your ribcage as you sat perched on the edge of the bed and looked up at her with wide innocent eyes.

Despite your sore ass and thighs, you shrugged, a mischievous glint in your eyes that no amount of punishment could completely get rid of. “Probably.” You giggled, though there was something undeniably different about your feelings toward the lawyer now. You were too exhausted to figure out what had changed though, and so you left it to be a problem for another day.

Wanda, thoroughly amused with your shameless answer, gently chuckled a pillow in your direction and narrowed her eyes when you turned around to look at her. “Oi, little one. This is still my bed you’re getting all cozy in.”

You merely laughed, falling forward into Natasha’s arms, entirely content with spending the rest of your day wrapped up in her.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Natural Breeding Clinic - Prologue

warnings: MDNI, breeding kinks, general sex, mention of infertility and insemination methods

a/n: It's here. Finally.

Teaser - Prologue - Patient 1

You take a deep breath and sit down in front of the laptop, waiting for the other person to join the call. Never in your life had you heard about such a unique reproductive center but lately, you’d been feeling the pull to start your own family. You’d discussed this with relevant people in your life. Everyone had said if you really wanted a child, then you should go with the options you thought were right for you.

You’d done the research, looking into different doctors and fertility clinics, but this one just stood out. There were testimonials from several happy families, saying their methods, though unconventional, were effective, and the doctors showcased on the website were all incredibly striking, each one handsome in their own way. But it was the success rate that caught your eye. A 98% guaranteed rate that you would be pregnant, and that pregnancy would be healthy. The site didn’t go into too much detail on their method, but the wording caught your eye.

“A natural breeding clinic” they’d called themselves. You’d finally bitten the bullet and called, requesting an information session. The screen suddenly lightens and you focus your attention as an attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair comes into view. She smiles in a welcoming way before speaking.

“Hello. Am I speaking with Mrs. L/n?” You nod and smile back, trying not to look awkward or uncomfortable. 

“Perfect! My name is Shoko Ieiri, I’m the main coordinating nurse here at Jujutsu Fertility. Thank you for scheduling an information session with us.”

“Yes, of course. I just needed more details before I booked an appointment.”

“Indeed.” Shoko claps her hands together before continuing. “Let me start by telling you a little bit about ourselves. We’ve been around for almost 6 years now. What sets us apart is that we focus more on women’s comfort than most other clinics. And we are sought out by people who are willing to use a sperm donor. We do not perform insemination services with sperm that are not from our own stock.”

“Your own stock? Are you associated with a sperm bank? And screen all the donors yourself?”

“Not a sperm bank in the conventional sense. We have 5 doctors who keep excellent health and their sperm is regularly screened to ensure quality. They are the only stock we allow for insemination.”

You blink to make sure you haven’t misheard. “The…doctors? Are you saying the fertility doctor I’d be meeting with will also be my sperm donor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko nods her head to confirm. “You will be meeting with the doctor of your choosing for at least 5 sessions. They will need to be at least once a week. Some women take the week off and come in 5 days straight.”

“5…sessions?” you ask, confused by the wording.

“Yes. It’s to ensure the insemination process has occurred an optimal number of times.”

“Wait…so…I’m going to be inseminated multiple times? How much downtime do I need in between each insemination?”

“Hardly any. Our method isn’t like a typical clinic. Most women leave feeling very normal and a lot more satisfied than when they came in.”

“Not like a typical clinic? So…you don’t use the catheter method?”

“We use minimal medical equipment in our inseminations.”

“Minimal…so what does the procedure entail?”

Shoko clears her throat and continues. “So it begins with you choosing one of our doctors. We highly recommend spending some time on this part. It’s essential that you feel attraction towards your doctor. Once you make a choice, they will reach out to discuss how your insemination experience can be optimized for you. You will receive a biodata on their sexual profile, their preferred methods of arousal, and other relevant details.”

“I’m sorry, but what?” You are at the edge of your seat wondering if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. Surely, this was all being made up? “Arousal, sexual profile- why would I need all these details? I thought sperm donors only gave information like height, weight, medical history and stuff like that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re choosing to be bred by them. They would have to make sure their patient is satisfied with the experience.”

“Bred?” You bleat the word stupidly.

“Yes. We are a natural breeding clinic. We use the method nature has provided to us to ensure a pregnancy.”

The gears in your brain start turning and something finally clicks.

“Are-are you saying…I would be having sex with my doctor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko smiles gently at you, pleased that you have finally caught on.

“The human body doesn’t necessarily enjoy having medical equipment inserted into it. All that cold plastic, and the mechanical methods of insertion. It puts the body in a state of stress. Not good for implantation. So our doctors will inseminate you through the process of intercourse.”

 Her words fall like a fog around you. You can feel your heart racing, a flush creeping into your cheeks. It was…insane. The doctor of your choosing was essentially going to fuck a baby into you. As your mind starts pulling up the images of their doctors, each one impossibly handsome and striking, you feel a familiar throb starting between your legs. Wetting your lips, you try to talk to continue with the information session.

“I see. And…there are benefits to this?”

“Yes. Intercourse allows the body to relax, releasing happy hormones. In this stress-free state, in addition to the knowledge that your doctor is someone you’re attracted to and trust, the chance of an implantation doubles.”

You gape at Shoko, your mind reeling from all the information.

“And…when you say the insemination process will be optimized for my best experience…?”

“The doctor you choose will ask you extensive questions about your preferences. What turns you on, positions, dislikes, toys. It’s to determine if they will satisfy your breeding experience. If they feel they might not be a good fit, they’ll recommend another one of our doctors.”

You swallow, your mouth going dry. “I see. And…what else do I need to know?”

“We will start by collecting your medical history and run some blood work to make sure your body is ready for an insemination process. Women who have a domestic partner will need to get both a waiver and a consent form signed by their partner that they have been informed what happens for the insemination.”

“Of course. Makes sense.”

“You will be assigned an emotional support companion during this process. It will either be myself or Mr. Ijichi Kiyotaka. We are there to help ease your nerves and ensure you enjoy the process. And all patients must think of a unique safeword to use during the insemination process.”

“Safeword?” you parrot back, still processing.

“Yes. At any point during the process, should you feel uncomfortable, your safeword ensures all actions cease and your doctor will give you some space to breathe and reassess the situation.”

All you can do is nod along. Shoko gives you a look of reassurance. “I can guarantee that most women are pleased with the results. And our doctors are quite skilled in what they do. It’s natural to feel a little shy and embarrassed but at the end of the day, we all share a common goal- a healthy baby.”

Despite your initial shock, you feel some of your trepidation fade away. Shoko continues.

“If you are ok with all of this, I can send you the forms to get the process started. Once those are filled, you can take some time to decide on your doctor. Then we’ll set up a call with them.”

“Thank you.” You make a split-second decision. “Please go ahead and send the forms.”

“Excellent. I’ll send them to the email you put in your inquiry. Was there anything else?”

You shake your head no. “I think I have all I need.”

“Great! I look forward to assisting you again.” Shoko ends the call and you immediately go the the website again to look at the doctors, one of which will end up fathering your child. Such a hard decision. How will you ever make the choice?

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