#or any secret organization for that fact

[cinematicbookworm]

Man the average right leaning person really is just the most gullable people like shit some times I forget how stupid some people can be and then they open their mouths and start talking about aliens and demons on planes after watching some video online of some lady going crazy on a plane talking bout a passenger being not real like the woman was probably haveing a mental break and y’all are really out here talking bout demonic fucking possession of the person who is being screamed at by someone clearly having a break from reality shits crazy

[tizeline]

Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

[staff]

We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world? 

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism. 

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

[salemoleander]

I am BARELY resisting going full red-strings-corkboard on this season. And by barely resisting I mean not resisting at all here is an extremely long list of the events those pins would be marking out.

BigB getting a Task that was a different color than everyone else's. It's not just a randomly assigned Hard Task, bc Scar rerolled for a Hard Task and his was also just a white envelope. It's fundamentally different.

That task taking BigB away from socialization, and seemingly being an incredibly time-consuming and dull request. Of profound disinterest to any watchers.

The phrasing of his Task!!

Dig a big hole. All the way down. At least 3x3. Make it your base if you want.

Everyone else's are direct and formal - the only one with more than one sentence was Skizz's, with the rule clarification of "One attempt only." Bigb's Task is four short abrupt sentences. It is also the only Task to contain extraneous information, 'Make it your base if you want.' The requirements (at least 3x3) feel like an afterthought to mimic the numerical/specific demands of the other tasks.

Evo symbol on the face of the Secret Keeper statue.

The fact that there's a statue at all; the fact that there is a physical representation of what is assigning tasks that everyone must complete, when previously everything was always handled via commands and unseen RNG.

Grian talking to the statue, and (bc of his Actual Role as game organizer) acting as a mediator for the impartial decisions handed down, speaking for it.

Grian making one last bad joke and saying he doesn't know if it counted or not- depends on whether we the audience laughed.

Grian asking for task recommendations from the audience. The watchers are making the tasks. The Watchers are making the tasks.

Again I could be off-base, and I'm not usually even that smitten with bringing in Evo lore. I don't want a Big Bad really...but. It feels like something very unusual and intentional and cool is happening in this series. And I'd guess we'll know if theres something going on once we have more than one data point.

My largely unfounded suspicion is that there is another being (maybe Listeners, maybe something else) trying to reach out to the Players via decoy Tasks, and BigB was the first recipient. Get them alone, make them of disinterest to the watchers, and tell them something we don't get to know.

Because that's the really, really fucking cool part (if my wacky theory is remotely right): We're the bad guys. We're the ones giving out tasks - hell, we're the ones actively brainstorming harder and crueller tasks in Grian's comments!

If they actually made a story where the Players have to keep secrets from us I will be delighted. Bc that is the same genius bullshit that made Evo Watcher lore so fun

[dcxdpdabbles]

Could I ask you for more Freelancer Danny? I love his denseness (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Damian knew about Danny Fenton due to the multiple assassination attempts his mother had ordered on him. And how everyone had failed over the years as the man thawed whatever she sent out to kill him.

At first, Mother wanted to recruit Fenton, but he refused to join the great cause. He claimed he did not believe in their methods and would not serve a man like his Grandfather.

She later discovered that Fenton was the target of Father's affection and the main block between them, rekindling any romantic bond. Mother claimed she did not hate Fenton for this, as his parents wanted different things and views, but Damian did.

Damian could not stand a man who would think himself a better choice than Mother. He could not stomach the thought of Fenton being so powerful he could dismiss his family's organization as simply as rejecting a misbehaving dog.

How dare Fenton keep Mother away from his Father. Every day, Damian trained as hard as he could so that he could one day be able to best mother in combat and have the right to meet Father.

Then, he would work to defeat his Father so that he could demand Fenton's head on a platter. He had a long way to go, but Mother still attempted to kill the undeserving man while he grew more assertive.

Mother's assassination attempts began around the time Fenton had uncovered one of their youth training camps and set it ablaze. He had a problem training children to their limits, which made no sense to Damian. How else would those urchins become useful if they were not pushed past their limits?

Yes, a few of them died, but if they could not handle the training, there was no chance they could handle the actual missions. Fenton thought it was "cruel" and took all the children to an American orphanage that Father funded and ran.

Grandfather had been angry—angry more than Damian had ever seen in his young life. That training camp had been one of the first he had established; it had much history. Mother had assured him that she would make the attacker pay.

"Beloved will understand." She said, signing off on Fenton's death warrant. "He knows our ways."

That was that.

Until the people carrying Fenton's death warrant returned…in body bags with a note that read "Nice try" and a stylized white D underneath as a calling card, attached to each one.

That was four years ago. Damian is ten, has bested Mother, and is coming to meet Father. He had studied the fools Father had taken into the family.

He planned on taking out Drake first, for not only was he unworthy to be called Father's son, but even Grandfather had an eye on him. He needed to be handled before he grew to power.

Fenton turned out to be rather insightful. Damian had been in the Wayne Manor—quant that it was. He thought his Father was supposed to be wealthy, but he had been forbidden from being seen in public.

Then, he would take out Fenton.

It angered him to be treated as a secret. Again.

Before, he knew it was because Father was waiting for him to earn the right, as he needed to complete his training. He did.

He worked so hard to be the best. His mother and the man she spent years telling him was slightly less than his Grandfather refused to acknowledge him.

He disliked him.

Father's adoptive children treated Damian like a burden. Worst, Father treated him like an unstable bomb that was thrown on his lap like a common curd. Damian thought that he would have finally proved himself if he had just taken out Drake.

But the little insect turned out to be rather hard to kill off. Not to mention Todd, who had interfered more than once in his plans. Apparently, despite the fact that it was Fenton who had brought Drake to his Father—and not because Drake had any real skill—Todd thought the boy was an invaluable member of the team.

He did not think Drake was a danger to his position, which meant Todd was far too arrogant, and he did not have the skills to defend this mindset.

If anything, Fenton seemed delighted to listen to his stories of Mother and his homeland.

If Damian could not beat Drake, what hope would he have for Todd?

Fenton, on the other hand, treated Damian with respect. He considered his position and never made Damian feel wrong for his upbringing.

Damian, at first, had been free with his words. He was purposely throwing in comments of blades, screams, and blood. Fenton, in turn, told him the tales of growing up with his parents producing weaponry in the basement and the number of times he had to dodge a blast from something lying about in the house.

When Damian informed him of his training, Fenton applauded his abilities instead of pitying him for living through it.

Fenton then took him to a zoo. Damian had always been fond of animals, a weakness he attempted to hide. He could not exactly contain his urge to walk around the whole place, rolling his eyes when Fenton made a mistake on facts regarding the beats and spending an entire afternoon correcting him.

Fenton had not once dismissed or babied him. Unlike his servants, who are forced to listen to him, he seems genuinely happy to hear Damian speak. Strangely, Fenton even took Damian's training seriously, helping him sharpen his spy abilities by helping him go undercover in various settings.

Father had wanted him behind closed doors, but Fenton took him bowling, around the city, to the soup kitchen, multiple animal shelters to venture, and even to see various art museums. Whenever he asks Damian to explain his hostility to Drake, he reminds him that he would not be allowed to harm Drake.

"You just have to remind yourself that you're not there anymore," Fenton said over a Tabbouleh. Fenton had tracked down one of the few Arabic restaurants in Gotham because Damian mentioned how he missed his county's food.

He pointed out multiple reasons, but unlike when his Father, Grayson, Todd or even Pennyworth did, Fenton reframed from using emotions. He understood that where Damian was from, the weak deserved to be crushed to move up.

It warmed his chest in a way he only associated with his Mother when Fenton drove them there. "A good warrior adapts to his new settings and social customs. You aren't a mercenary."

Damian's nose wrinkled. "Those are the harlots of the world of warriors."

Fenton waved his fork at him. "They'll kill anyone for a dollar. They're far too easy to open their blades. Like their legs."

Damian ducked his head to hide the giggle that slipped out. They returned to the Wayne Manor to find Drake packing a bag. He returned to grab more clothing since he was still staying with Fenton. It was for his safety as Damian posed a real threat to his life.

For a moment, the blood son wondered if he could sneak up on him and slash his throat before Drake knew he was there, but then he thought about what Fenton said and chose to walk up to the teenager. "I shall allow you to live."

Drake froze. "Thank you?"

He nods, placing his arms behind his back. "I can still defeat you in combat. You breathe at my mercy."

Saying his piece, Damian glances over his shoulder, watching Fenton beam. The warm feeling returns as the man seems proud of him for not taking the chance to replace Drake.

Behind him, Father also smiles as if pleased. It's the first time he has ever looked at Damian that way. It was due to Fenton's advice and gentle guidance.

Fenton wasn't so bad after all.

He would refrain from plating his head for now, until he had enough information and experience to blend in with the American crowd and earn his Father's approval.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SWEET ADDICTION

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Synopsis: Spencer always felt afraid you'd be too sweet for him. Turns out, you were just the right spice he needed. Word Count: 1800+ WARNING: Fluff with a pinch of spice. A/N: an alternate narrative draft of my other published draft, Regrets Sting... enjoy✨

Spencer found you saccharine.

As a colleague, a friend, and... an enchanting woman.

He spent most of his days hypervigilant, careful not to fall for your tempting, bright smiles and witty jokes.

He watched you smile warmly to each and every family of the victims you'd ever encounter. Spencer would never stop bragging about his high intelligence, but somehow, he couldn't figure you out. You were a beguiling force to behold, an enigma of kindness and walking epitome of apricity.

Spencer loves everything about you. He loves you. He was obsessed with you. Craved your presence. Greedy for your attention.

He was afraid that whatever feelings brewed in his chest were going to ravage you. Afraid that he'd ruin a beautiful art due to his impulsivity.

So he chose friendship. He had to, or else...

He became your motivator. Your stimulus. Your best friend.

He was there for you. He was there when a case became too heavy. He lent you his day off. He became your personal therapist, listening to all your vents in the hopes that it would stop the nightmares just for one night. He kept you company, reading a book to you until you drifted off to sleep but left as soon as he tucked you in.

And without you, or him, knowing, he fell for your addicting sweetness all over again. Spencer Reid was in love with you.

He felt guilty. Falling for you right after being in love with someone else because he wanted to avoid falling for you. Even Spencer couldn't make sense of himself. It was a mind-boggling conflict.

And yet, Spencer held himself back for as long as he could. He made himself believe that all he wanted was your friendship. Shoving his feelings into a box as if it were a dirty sin, he tried to keep a secret.

The deeper he fell for you, the more obvious it became to the team.

JJ figured it out first when Spencer put in too much effort to make you smile after a case that hit too close to home. You have been bland with everyone but not with Spencer. He managed to get you to laugh just by saying a couple of nerdy jokes. She knew, then, that you'd be the perfect match.

Emily and Derek noticed Spencer's smittenness at the same time. You were all on a case, and the unsub's victims disturbingly fit you. Spencer was protective of you and knew exactly how it'd make you feel. So he always kept you in his line of sight and insisted on working with you before Hotch had the chance to object. Of course, along with that was Penelope squealing about her suspicions that Spencer had a huge crush on you.

Rossi had a hunch. He saw Spencer's eyes light up every time you walked into any room, staring at you for as long as he could. One time, he saw Spencer organize your case file in the way you preferred: written detailed descriptions instead of photos. And he suspected that Spencer had done so since your first day with the team.

Hotch? He always knew but kept his mouth shut. Spencer went to him for any type of indirect romantic advice. Spencer was experiencing childish love, so who was Hotch to ruin it for the boy genius?

And so it goes...

JJ would ritually give Spencer new, interesting facts about you. Emily would become suggestive whenever you made Spencer his daily cup of sugar with drops of coffee. Derek would flirt with you whenever he caught Spencer staring at you, then report to Penelope about the progress in their project: get Spencer to confess. Rossi, at times, pulled Spencer back from his trance whenever he started to malfunction because of something you did that made his stomach flip. And Hotch was Spencer's go-to companion. Vaguely describing his feelings for you in hopes that the unit chief had some sort of advise in return.

So he could only imagine the heartbreak when you arrived one morning with an unfamiliar scent of shampoo and a giddy smile as you walked in with the precinct's detective.

He immediately expressed his disapproval. Of course, you were confused about it. What was worse was you didn't know why. And worse than that was Spencer couldn't tell you why.

Or so he thought.

"I don't understand why you're making a big deal out of this," You walked into an interrogation room.

"Just because Det. Lohan is an old friend of yours does not mean he can be trusted. You haven't seen the guy in years. I think it's safe to say that sleeping with him was not a smart choice." Spencer wanted to smack himself for his poor choice of words, but he'd rather you lecture him than spend more time with the detective that still lingered on your hair.

You laughed, not taking his words personally. "Spence, I'm a woman with two guns dangling on each side of her hips. I can take care of myself." You took his worry into account and yet made your decision clear.

Out of nowhere, Spencer pushed you by your hips against the door. You gasped out of shock, a dangerous sound that rang in his ears.

"Still think you'd be safe?" Spencer could barely look at you. He didn't know what he would do if he did.

"You're making him sound more dangerous than he is. This is clearly not about keeping me safe. What's going on? You know you can always talk to me." Your voice was like honey. It was sweet and kind. You had no doubt, no suspicion. You trusted him too much. You were too sweet on him.

Spencer released a sharp sigh. He really had no other choice, did he? "I'm in love with you," He muttered under his breath but loud enough to tickle your ear.

Your expression changed. You took time to read whatever his eyes could say, but you came up with nothing, "Spence... you already rejected me. You said we're better off friends. You said you weren't attracted to me." You kept your tone unfairly soft, filling him with guilt.

"I lied, okay?!" Spencer was losing his cool. How much you affected his mood was beyond torture.

"Well, that's not fair... I was in love with you. Told you how I felt." Your face was sullen. "And what? I'm supposed to just take you in my arms because now you want me?" You gently pushed him, looking down on your feet. "I'd like to be alone, please." You were firm with your words, hurt lingering under your breath.

"Was?" Spencer queried.

You looked back up, "What?"

He stepped closer, "You said, 'I was in love with you.' You're not anymore?" Spencer's eyes bore into your very soul. It felt like he was interrogating you with a different charge of crime than a few seconds ago.

"That's not the point," You barely managed to sound in control. His entire demeanor changed, focusing on one phrase.

"You don't love me anymore?" Spencer moved closer, leaving nothing but his breath between the two of you. He quickly glanced at your lips, then stared at you once more, making sure you saw what he just did.

You subtly gulped, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat. "What are you—"

"Say you still love me, and I'll kiss you," It was as if every restraint Spencer had finally snapped the longer he was alone with you. He has been restricting himself from every inch of you, after all, despite you being unaware of it.

You shook your head, lifting your chin up, "I'm really not in the mood to play games with you, Spence. Why can't you just leave the entire thing alone?" You hoped he couldn't hear how loud your heart was beating right in your ear.

Spencer's eyes soften. He drooled at the sight of your lips, leaning his forehead on yours. Spencer closed his eyes in desperation, "Please say you love me so I can kiss you..." He begged in a small whisper.

A lot of possibilities and doubts flooded your senses, but only one thing rang in your head.

"I—" You didn't get the chance to say it. Spencer's lips were already attached to yours.

Your mind went blank, and your knees turned weak. If he hadn't wrapped an arm around your waist, you would've long fallen on the floor and ruined the euphoric moment you were in.

His kiss wasn't anything like you'd imagine. Nowhere near the gentleness you've known him to be. His kisses were desperate and eager.

Spencer pressed your back against the two-way mirror, harsher than when he'd pushed you against the door. The loud thud echoed in the entire room. His kisses became hotter and hungrier by the second.

And just as his lips were about to trail down to your jaw...

"Uhm—"

You froze at the sound of the speaker sending feedback, lightly tapping Spencer to abruptly stop.

"Sorry... But, uh, the interrogation room's actually not empty. At least not on our side." JJ spoke from the speaker.

You bit your lower lip as you tightly closed your eyes, "I know I'm going to regret this, but who's with you?" Your voice cracked from utter embarrassment.

The speaker spilled a chuckle all over the room, "You got room for another, sweetheart?" Derek could barely hold his laugh as he spoke.

"Count me in, too," Emily chimed in, creating another horrible feedback.

Spencer squinted at the mirror as if he'd be able to see them the more he stared at his reflection. You were glad your back was against, or else they would've seen how red your face became.

"Uh... Can you leave? Please?" You looked up at the ceiling. You couldn't even look at Spencer's face from the embarrassment you were feeling.

"Just don't make a mess. We still need to use the room for the unsub later." Derek teased.

"No promises," Spencer grinned at you, making your face heat up more than it already was.

Emily's amused laughter echoed, "Getting a little too pride of yourself there, Reid." Her voice went one-eighth octave lower. "I won't hesitate to beat you up if you do some dumb shit."

You waited for at least a minute to make sure that they did leave before you collapsed on the floor with your hands covering your face.

Spencer squatted in front of you and took your hands, intertwining your fingers. "Regret falling in love with me yet?" A playful smirk danced over his lips.

"Right now? I do. I really, really do." But you were too sweet for him. So you rolled your eyes, groaning in indecisiveness, "I really don't."

"Yeah," Spencer couldn't help but smile, "You really don't." He grabbed your face by the cheek and stole another kiss.

Spencer couldn't help it. You were his sweet addiction. And he'd keep it that way as long as you let him.

reid masterlist | masterlist

[simping-acefully]

Ep 3 got me acting really unwise

Nsfw headcanons for Laios under the cut (gn unspecified partner for Laios)

Warnings: NSFWish, probably ooc, reader insert implied?, probably not very sexy because I used this for character analysis.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Laios is very attentive, though he's also very insecure when it comes to engaging with others. So I imagine he'd be a little clumsy, though very eager to provide the best aftercare for his partner. He's also very cuddly.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The favorite part of his own body are his hands. They are strong and calloused, and he's used them to protect others and to create new stuff! (Aka, cooking) the fact that those hands can also help him please a partner is a plus.

On a partner? Probably lips. I imagine Laios struggles to read people's facial expressions (the 'tism go brr) but seeing his partner's smile is reassuring. He also really likes running his thumb over them and maybe getting his fingers nibbled.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot.He has tasted his own cum out of curiosity in the past, too. And if he had a partner that ejaculated or squirted he would be delighted to taste it all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has probably jerked off to thoughts of his partner before they get together and it's eating him alive :(

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zero experience, lots of book knowledge though! He's confused but he's got the spirit. Will need some leading at first, but he's a quick learner and is curious enough to experiment and try new things once he's gained confidence.

As an ace myself, I like to think that Laios is either ace too, or has a low drive and thus, sexual intimacy is a matter of doing something intimate and unique with a partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that will allow him to see his partner's face for smooching! The emotional intimacy is the most important part for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries to be serious to the point he's almost uptight. But his clumsy and eager nature ends up organically devolving into somewhat goofy intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet matches the drapes, but this man keeps it all natural because ?? Why would he waste time/energy on such things??? (Aka, he's not used to grooming the area, but he would do an effort if asked)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very!! The main driving force for the act. Laios is constantly kissing and checking with his partner. He loves them so much and this is a physical way to convey those feelings!

He holds hands with his partner, kisses their face and neck and tries to keep them as close as possible, the mental image of melting into a puddle together comes to mind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't do it often, but when he does it's more of a thing of connecting with his own body than getting rid of any urges. He won't be able to get off unless he's in a good mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Has a wee bit of a praise kink that he doesn't fully understand.

Shibari is one he wants to delve into, too. There's something to be said about the artistry of the knots, and the feeling of compression can be quite comforting.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Probably his partner's bed. He shares a room with Falin, so intimacy on his place is a no-no. He doesn't particularly enjoy motels or inns either because he feels kind of self conscious/pressured to perform within a time limit. He was to take things slow and he wants to cuddle to sleep afterwards, dammit!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think his biggest driving force is an emotional connection. He craves to be understood and loved, so feeling that coming from his partner will make him want to show his appreciation in a physical way.

Probably jealousy is another good way to make Laios seek out his partner. He wants reassurance, to kill any doubts in his mind and any lingering feelings of inadequacy.

Also adrenaline too! Sometimes when the blood is pumping, his mind wanders. If he and his partner just were in a situation of danger, the physical reminder that they are there, alive and safe will make him desperate to feel them.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like/understand degradation, and wouldn't do anything that he felt could hurt his partner.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, and lives for pleasing his partner! He's not very skilled at first, but he's very observant and receptive, so he gets the hang of what his partner likes even if they do not say so themselves.

However, after getting head himself, he's hooked. He loves it, he loves the look on his partner's eyes and the physical feeling is overwhelming on the best possible way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually slow and sensual, unless he just had a life or death situation with his partner, then he's desperate and anxious.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not one to really go for quickies, but if he's on the rare mood for one, he'll be sure to get and give lots of affection.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Laios would be interested in trying everything at least once. He's curious and inquisitive, and just as he is fascinated by monsters, he's fascinated by his partner and wants to learn what turns them on, and see what also works for him

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina for days! He can last one very long round. If he didn't get sleepy and cuddly afterwards, he could probably do more, but hnnnggg comfy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own toys, but if introduced to them he's up for trying pretty much anything, both on himself and his partner.

I can see him growing particularly attached to non-human looking dildos/strap-ons and ropes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not much of a tease, but he low-key enjoys being teased. He doesn't seem to understand it, or be fully aware of the fact, but yeah.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not particularly loud out the impulse to self restrain, but Laios is a whiner. He can get pretty loud when he's about to cum though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would love to roleplay as a monster with their partner but when he did bring up the idea he got laughed off and passed it off as a joke. It was not a joke.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I like to think that it would kind of mimic his silhouette, length slightly above average and overall on the thicker side. The widest point is right after the head.

Not very high at all. I kinda imagine Laios on the gray sexual spectrum so, it only becomes a thought after he begins pining for his eventual partner. It starts with him wondering how soft their hands would be, how about their neck and lips? And it eventually escalates to wandering thoughts of intimacy.

Once he does become intimate with a partner, he longs for intimacy more than he longs for sex itself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

VERY. He's an eepy man.

[wndaswife]

secret santa | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Your stepmother could not be more happy to have you back home for the holidays. To celebrate, she’s planned a very special surprise for you.

Word count: 9143

Tags | MDNI: smut, fluff, some angst, strap-ons, blowjobs, spanking, cunnilingus, i don’t know the word for usage of a leash and collar, but there is leash and collar usage in this, so i suppose… mild pet play?, mommy kink, praise kink, dom!wanda maximoff

gif credit to vanessacarlysle

Since mid-November, neither you nor Wanda have had very much time to see each other; exams had started for you, and Wanda was working exceptionally hard within the Church Committee to organize the upcoming Christmas events. 

As such, you hadn’t been able to do much but call each other when you could during some evenings and text throughout the day. 

It was a pain, because although calling and texting stayed some burning desire to see each other, it also simultaneously added fuel to the fire, knowing that neither of you were really with the other.

So you were extraordinarily excited to spend the next two whole weeks with Wanda, and she was excited to see you too. While you were packing, you had even been on a call with her as she got ready for bed, making sure you packed all that you needed to and that you were ready for your trip home. 

There was always something so captivating about watching Wanda get ready for bed, whether it was the brushing of her hair or the way she applied her expensive moisturizer and ran her fingers across her face and down her neck, or watching her do it all in her silk slip that revealed so much of her smooth-as-cream skin — really, all you knew was that you couldn’t wait to see her again. 

On the twentieth of December, you came home, and it was your father who came out of the house first and greeted you, asking how you were and taking your bags from the trunk. 

Though you told Wanda practically everything that happened while you were away, there were some things she kept to herself — things that stayed between the two of you. Sometimes you forgot that Wanda didn’t tell Vision everything, for you were surprised, here and there, that he asked about things that you’d already told his wife. 

He did ask Wanda about you, for he knew you seemed much more inclined to speak with your stepmother about your day-to-day life than you were in speaking with him, which was rather natural. 

In these instances, Wanda liked any excuse to talk about you, to gush about how proud she was of you and to share in the excitement of having you back home. 

In fact, with the holidays coming around, the mothers at the Church Committee began to speak more frequently about their children coming home for the holidays too, and Wanda loved when they asked about you. She’d been spending hours upon hours a week planning events with the church, and because Westview was rather small, the church had ties to nearly every city event as well as those for the elementary school, so being able to talk about you during those tiresome hours was especially refreshing. 

“Wanda’s inside just about to finish baking the banana bread,” Vision said as he began advancing up the stairs. “Some of Wanda’s committee friends are joining us for dinner in an hour. I’m not sure if she told you.”

She didn’t tell you about that. 

But no matter; you could deal with a few extra guests, because what mattered now was that you were home and Wanda was in the next room. 

When you entered the kitchen, Wanda’s hair was tied back and she had an apron around her waist — a telltale sign that she had been cooking if not already obvious from the smell of dinner coming from the dining room. She had just put the banana bread in the oven, and she straightened and turned to you. 

She took her oven mitts off and you immediately approached each other with Wanda’s arms outreached and a warm, happy smile on her lips. You wrapped your arms around her waist and hers came around your torso.

You buried your nose in her hair and she kissed your shoulder and up your neck. 

“Y/N…” she muttered into your skin, slowly warming from the cold air outside. One of her hands pushed up the back of your neck and she rubbed the pads of her fingers against the back of your head.

“You smell really good.”

Wanda laughed and she pulled away to hold your face in her hands, rubbing the cold of your cheeks away with her warm thumbs. “It’s because I’ve been cooking for nearly three hours,” she said. 

She looked down at you still in your jacket. “What are you still doing in this, hm?” she asked, letting go of you and unzipping your jacket. She slid it down your arms. “That is no way to greet your stepmother — still in your jacket and all.”

You smiled. “I missed you so much, Wanda,” you said. You leaned forward and kissed her lips. There was flour on the bottom lip. You raised your hand and parted from her lips to brush it away gently. 

With her arms still around your shoulders, Wanda pulled you closer for a deeper kiss, then parted to pepper kisses across your cheek and down your neck. “I missed you too, angel,” she whispered.

The sounds of Vision’s footsteps echoed down the staircase and Wanda straightened and you parted from each other. She began undoing her apron.

“How was the drive, sweetheart?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against your cheek adoringly, then pulling her hand away to untie her apron. 

You and Wanda spoke while you helped clean the kitchen, with her telling you how things led up to her inviting some of her committee friends over for dinner. It felt like it normally did, talking with Wanda over the phone, but this time when you looked over at her, she was really there. 

This time, you could really reach over and touch her, sneak a few kisses, hold her, watch her as she was wiping down the counters and setting the table. 

Gods, how you missed her. 

“You should get changed,” Wanda said, setting down the cloth and undoing her hair. She hooked her fingers around the waistband of her pants and pulled you towards her, turning you so your ass was pressed against the counter and her hips were pressed against yours. 

You flushed and craned your neck to the side to see if perhaps your dad was coming down from upstairs without having been heard — he had said he was going to make a few work calls while he could so he was available throughout the evening. 

With her fingers against your jaw, Wanda turned your head so you were looking at her again. “You’re going to make me jealous,” she whispered low, “giving your attention to anything but me.” She grinned as she watched your cheeks tint in a warm blush. 

“How I’ve missed teasing you, sweetheart.” Wanda wrapped an arm around your hips and trailed her hand down to squeeze your ass. “Tell mommy you miss her teasing,” she pried, sticking out her bottom lip and pleading with her eyes. 

“M-Mommy, I missed your teasing,” you replied with a swallow. Having Wanda talk to you this way was nothing like it was over the phone, and certainly not over text either. You were almost ashamed that you’d nearly forgotten how much of an effect she had on you. 

Wanda seemed delighted, but not only because of your submission, but because it’d been so long since you’d been home with her. Even in visiting you at your place when she could, it wasn’t the same as having you home. It was the warmth and comfort of having you close at home that was special, and knowing you’d be there for a good while, during the mornings and the evenings. 

She kissed the tip of your nose. 

“Would you like to choose what I’m going to wear tonight?” she asked. 

You nodded, incredibly eager.

Wanda’s smile widened and she released you from between her and the counter. She wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close as you walked upstairs together. She rubbed your side with her warm hand while you nuzzled your face against her shoulder. “My little angel missed her mommy this much?”

You turned your whole body around in her arm and hugged her, burying your face in her neck and nodding. 

“Oh, honey…” Wanda whispered, rubbing her hand against your back, her other arm secure around your waist. “I know. I missed you too. I’m so happy that you’re home.”

Now that you were in Wanda’s arms, being held close to her while she comforted you, you were reminded just how much you missed being home. The visits weren’t the same as being home with her. Maybe you were overestimating because of how difficult this semester’s exams had been, but regardless, you were so happy to be with her. 

“Baby, I have a surprise for you,” she said, kissing the side of your head. You raised your head from her shoulder and looked at her curiously. “I booked a hotel for us to stay in for the next two days. I need to get a bit more Christmas shopping done, and I wanted to spend some time with just you.” She explained how she had worded it to Vision. 

You beamed. “Really?” you asked. You could only imagine it — spending some of the snowy season with just Wanda, having your own hotel room to come back to after spending the day together, being with her from the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep. 

Wanda pinched your nose and wiggled your head side to side gently. “Yes, really, sweetheart,” she said and let go of you to peck your lips. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

The way your body was practically vibrating told Wanda that you were on the brink of shouting out excitedly and she quickly told you to keep it down because Vision’s office was just down the hall and that he was still taking calls. She kissed you tenderly. “And I have one more surprise for you once we get there,” she told you. “But you’ll have to be a good girl and wait — no hints.”

As promised, Wanda let you pick out her outfit for the dinner, but because Vision had been so close and was likely going to finish up his calls soon, she didn’t allow you to watch her get changed or vice versa; you changed alone in your bedroom and Wanda in hers.

During dinner, you were reminded of the earlier days before you had started seeing your stepmother — watching her from afar, her charming smiles and her warm laughs, her subtle glances at you and how easy it was for her to slip into and start conversations. That is all to say, however, that for the entirety of dinner, you were watching Wanda from afar, interacting very little with her aside from the casual conversion that the typical stepmother and stepdaughter had.

Conversation with her, when had, was affectionate, certainly, but was nothing close to what you wish you could partake in with her after so long of being without her; you could hardly wait to spend all of the next two days together.

In the evening after dinner and while you were getting ready for bed — Wanda’s committee friends insisted they do all the clean-up — Wanda came up to your bedroom after her friends had gone. There was a quiet knock on your bedroom door, and you opened it to Wanda stepping into your bedroom and giving you a kiss.

She closed the bedroom door behind her.

“I know we didn’t get to spend much time together tonight, honey.” She held your face in her hand, stroking your cheek with her thumb gently. You held her other hand with yours. “But for the rest of the holiday, especially during the next two days, I’ll be all yours.” She kissed your forehead tenderly.

She pressed her forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with a soft smile as she uttered a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N. I’m so happy that you’re back home.”

In the morning, you began to stir from your sleep when your bed dipped beneath you. Then you were enveloped in a warmth, one that reached your body through your blankets.

Wanda had an arm wrapped around your torso and she leaned down to you while sitting on the edge of your bed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Wake up, my angel,” she uttered softly. “Let’s get to packing, so we can leave early and get lunch together.”

“Mommy…” you muttered against your blankets, still half-asleep and slowly rousing from deep sleep.

Wanda couldn’t help but smile at seeing your sleepy face, and she nipped at your earlobe before lifting your blankets and getting under them with you. You initially groaned at the cold until Wanda turned you around and wrapped her arms around you, covering your face and neck in warm, soft kisses.

You whined, “Mommy, I’m sleepy!”

“Aw, you’re sleepy, huh?” she teased. She bit down on her bottom lip and brushed the tip of her nose against yours. Her fingers tugged at the waistline of your pajama pants, pulling you against her hips. “Is my baby sleepy?”

A small smile pulled onto your lips and you tried hiding it in Wanda’s shoulder, but she wouldn’t let you shy away once seeing you all cute and giggly. She let go of your pants and ran her hands up your shirt, her cold palms flat against your warm stomach. 

You couldn’t stop your giggles this time and Wanda chuckled. Her fingertips brushed against the underside of your breasts and you began squirming. 

Then without warning, Wanda groped your breasts with both hands, kneading then softly with her fingers. She watched close as your face contorted, squeezing your eyes shut and repressing a moan as you tried burying your face in her chest.

“Why don’t you lay back, honey, since you’re so tired?” Wanda suggested innocently, then released one of your breasts to push you down onto your back with her hand on your shoulder. She lifted your shirt up without hesitation and exposed your breasts to the cold air. 

She immediately dove down to wrap her lips around one of your nipples, using her hand to tug at the other. Her tongue circled your erect bud, flicking over it lightly as she sucked and eventually parted, giving your nipple a gentle tug between her teeth as she did. Then she moved to the other and did the same. 

“Mommy…” you moaned, trying your best to open your eyes and look down to savour the sight of seeing your stepmother touch you for the first time in a while. You could see her mess of blonde hair between your tits, splayed out a mess against your chest. 

Wanda pressed a kiss to both your breasts then pulled your shirt back down before moving up your body and kissing your lips. “Feeling awake now, doll?”

You rubbed your eyes, slightly lighthearted to have been touched in such a way after having just woken up. You nodded. “Yes. Awake,” you answered. 

“That’s my good girl. Come. Let’s have breakfast before we pack.”

It was only Christmas Eve and onwards that your dad would have his holiday break, so for the next two days, Wanda was really all yours. 

Wanda made you eggs and waffles, and made them just how you liked them too. She knew how tiring and a bit lonely living on your own could be, and she really wanted to pamper you and treat you as all sweet little girls ought to be — and she simply just loved to spoil you. 

You felt so taken care of with Wanda.

Mommy helped you back your things, making sure you didn’t forget anything and offering to carry some of your things in her bags in case yours didn’t fit; she was always taking care of you, always making sure you were loved and attended to. Sometimes you felt like there wasn’t a single thing she did that she did without thinking of you. 

The drive to New York felt like a dream — and quite literally. Often, when you were away from Wanda, you dreamt about things like watching movies together or making dinner or going on a long car ride with her, such things that were rather casual but meant so much. 

In the warm car listening to Christmas tunes while both you and Wanda spoke about an assortment of things, the snow blew wildly past your windows. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, eyes on the road though her right hand came to rub your thigh affectionately. 

You looked over to her, garnering your stepmother’s attention for a split second before she looked back to the road. “I’m just happy to be here with you,” you answered.

You watched as a smile spread onto Wanda’s face.

“Oh, Y/N.” She practically gushed; she even seemed like she was blushing. It wasn’t rare for Wanda to blush with you, but you always really liked when she did. “I’m happy to be here with you too.” She squeezed your knee. 

The hotel Wanda had booked was rather nice, and seemed expensive, though that could’ve been partly attributed to how beautifully decorated it was for the holidays; there was a large lit up and decorated tree at the center of the lobby, as well as lights and hanging holly and ivy, with prop gifts and other decorations placed around lobby, but also throughout the entirety of the hotel. 

“Would you like to go shopping after dinner?” Wanda asked as the two of you set your bags down on the bed in your room. 

You slumped down on the bed, a singular Queen in the center of the room, and ran your arms up and down the expanse of it. “Yes — dinner then shopping,” you answered with a nod. 

Wanda grinned at seeing you laying down so relaxed and she approached you. Walking between your knees, she pushed your shirt up and pressed a kiss to your belly. Then she pulled it back down and stood above you, looking down at you. She rubbed her hands against your sides. 

“Let’s shower first?” she suggested, looking at how sleepy you looked. 

You opened your eyes and smiled. “Yes, please,” you answered. 

In the shower, Wanda lathered your body in soap with her hands then washed your hair, making sure to rinse you thoroughly in the warm shower water.

When it was your turn, she was enjoyably surprised when you chose to massage her shoulders beneath the water, stepping back against you and letting you touch her. More than simply being massaged, she liked just simply being touched by you, and how sweet and gentle you were with her and her body. 

“Y/N, that feels good…” she muttered at one point. Then, “I’ve been so tense the last few weeks. That feels wonderful. Thank you.” You weren’t sure if you were really blushing that hard or if it was the shower’s hot water. 

You loved being able to take care of each other; there was something so special about just being able to lather each other in lotion after showering and talking while drying up and getting dressed. With Wanda, it was so easy, and even the most simple things with her made you feel so warm. 

You always had a place to go with Wanda — a place you belonged.

After dinner, shopping in New York City just a few days before Christmas was rather chaotic, but you found yourself enjoying it all in spite of how busy it was. The snow and the Christmas lights decorating the city and the stores, the bustling people all eager to spend time with their loved ones while wrapped in their warm jackets and hats, and especially, walking hand-in-hand with Wanda made the experience really special. 

Coming back to the hotel, where it was just you and Wanda as it was in the morning and the entirety of the evening, solidified in your mind the idea that it was only you and Wanda that mattered in the whole world. It was only Wanda who needed your focus and attention, and it was only you in the whole world who needed hers. 

You’d have to be heading home in the morning after tomorrow, reintroducing the reality that there was more than just Wanda to think about, but for now, you were entirely comfortable in this temporary truth wherein only she and you mattered. 

If you were comfortable enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you had Wanda all to yourself for the entire holiday. 

“Are you ready for bed, my angel?” Wanda asked as you set down your bags of gifts together. 

“Not yet. Are you?”

Wanda shook her head, taking her jacket off and hanging it in the closet along with yours. “I’d like to show you the last surprise I kept for you,” she said, a mischievous grin forming on her face. “Would you like to see?”

Your stepmother loved when you begged, even when she knew she was already going to give in; she just liked when you asked her for things, so desperate for her attention and permission. 

“Pleeease,” you pleaded, tugging on her hand and making her giggle. 

She immediately gave in, of course. “Okay. Sit on the bed and close your eyes. I’ll have to get it out of my bag.”

You did as you were told, sitting on your bed with your hands folded in between your thighs, your eyes closed. You heard the unzipping of her bag and rustling of her clothes and other things she brought. Then you heard the padding of her feet against the carpet as she approached. 

“You look so cute sitting so polite and patient,” she teased, tapping the tip of her finger against your nose, making your face scrunch up. The bed dipped beside you and you felt Wanda’s thigh press against yours. A box was placed in your lap. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

On your lap was a light blue box patterned with little snowmen and reindeer, tied with gold ribbon. Wanda kissed your temple and wrapped an arm around your waist, anticipating your reaction. 

Buzzing with anticipation, you opened the box and carefully pulled back the sparkly white tissue paper to reveal a red and white lingerie set, and upon closer inspection, it was Christmas themed.

It was a two piece, with the top appearing to look like a red bow that tied together in the center between your breasts, a little bell hanging from it. It was also rimmed with faux white fur. 

The bottom was coloured with the same red, frilled around the top with one ribbon bows on both sides where your hips would be. At each corner, above the ribbon bows, was an identical ribbon-like strap that went from one front edge, up your hips to wrap around your waist to the adjacent edge where the back of your hip was so the two ribbon straps conjoined just below your bellybutton. 

On the side of the box, there was a headband with two reindeer antlers with a little bell at the base of each of them. 

“Isn’t it cute?” Wanda asked. “Do you like it?”

You put the box over to the side of your hip so as to not drop it so you could quickly turn and wrap your arms around your stepmother’s shoulders. “I love it, mommy!” you cheered. “Thank you, thank you! I can’t wait to wear it for you.”

Wanda laughed and hugged you back. “Oh, I knew you’d love it, angel.” She pecked your cheek repeatedly. “Ever since I bought it, I couldn’t stop thinking of you all wrapped up like a gift, and those adorable reindeer antlers… I must admit, some of the pictures I’ve sent you of myself were when I’d been thinking of you wearing that exact outfit.” 

She pulled away to speak low in your ear. “But, of course, mommy couldn’t tell you exactly what made her so wet when I sent you them. I had to keep it a surprise.”

“Do I get to wear it now, mommy?” you asked, pulling away and placing your hands on her thighs so you could lean close and plead. “Can I wear it for you now?”

“Baby, if I have to wait even another hour before seeing you with that on, I might just go absolutely mad. Please do put it on now.”

You started carefully taking the things out of the box while Wanda also took some of her own things out of her bag. She told you to get dressed and wait for her while she got changed in the washroom. 

Mommy knew you so well; you loved how the lingerie looked on you, and you thought it looked really cute. Your favourite part was the bells and the ribbons. You really looked like a gift all wrapped up. 

You wondered what else mommy planned. 

You sat at the center of the bed like mommy asked, waiting patiently for her to come out from the washroom. 

After a moment, Wanda stepped out in a lacy maroon lingerie set of her own. She had a black harness and a red strap already attached to it hanging from her hand.

Your whole body felt like it began to heat up at the sight of her body and her lingerie and how pretty and soft her skin looked, how beautiful mommy’s curves were, how nice and soft her hair looked, and the strap in her hand that was picked especially for you. 

“Oh, Y/N, look at you!” she said in awe as she looked you up and down, setting the harness on the bed and tugging a bit on your lingerie. “The sweetest Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten. You look adorable all dolled up for mommy.” She leaned down with a grin and kissed your lips.

“Mommy, you look so pretty.” You admired her in awe as she straightened and looked down at you from the side of the bed.

“You’re gonna make me blush, sweetness,” she gushed, taking your chin into her hands and brushing the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip.

She stepped into the harness then turned so you’d be able to have access to where it had to be fastened. “Won’t you fasten it together for me?”

You nodded immediately then got onto your knees and leaned down to fasten her harness. Wanda watched as your back arched and your ass moved up slightly in the air. She felt her clit throb seeing you in your adorable little outfit all focused on helping mommy. 

“That’s a good girl,” she said once you finished. Wanda climbed onto the bed and took a seat beside you. She wrapped an arm around your hips and pulled you close. 

“Why don’t you make me happy and take mommy’s cock in your mouth?” she proposed, brushing her nose against your cheek. “I want to see my pretty girl’s mouth full of mommy’s cock.” 

Excitedly, you moved onto your knees and positioned yourself closer to her hips as Wanda rubbed your back soothingly. 

“Let me take this off of you for just a little,” she said, carefully removing your reindeer ear headband. Its bells jingled slightly as she set it down on the side table. She leaned forward and kissed the top of your head before sitting back against the headboard.

On your knees and leaning down to suck Wanda off with her hand resting on your lower back, you licked up Wanda’s cock, making eye contact with her as she looked down at you affectionately. You broke eye contact to spit down on her tip, before using your hand to gently jerk her off and lather it in your saliva.

With the way your stepmother kept warmly rubbing your back only encouraged you further, and you became rather impatient, excited to take her cock into your mouth. You looked up at her briefly, to which Wanda was still looking down at you attentively with her warm gaze, and you finally wrapped your lips around her cock and carefully bobbed your head down.

“That’s right, honey,” she urged gently, her hand moving up your back to rest against the back of your neck. “Deeper, if you can. I’d like to hear my cock in your pretty throat.”

You uttered something unintelligible as you kept Wanda’s cock in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, each time you went down slowly taking more and more of her into your mouth. 

“Oh, that’s it, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed as your lips finally reached the base of her cock, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. She listened as you steadied your breaths as you took her cock down your throat. Her hand came to the back of your head, her fingers gently weaving through your hair.

To please her even more, you began moving your head again, and this time, taking her whole cock into your mouth each time you bobbed your head down. 

Wanda audibly moaned when you began softly gagging around her strap, your eyes shutting as tears began forming with the way her cock was entering your throat repeatedly. She never forced your head down, her hand only gently guiding you and massaging the back of your head and playing with your hair, but your desire to please her was so great that you were thoroughly enjoying having your throat fucked by her cock.

Though she wasn’t one for aggressive sex nor was she one for throatfucking, the throbbing of Wanda’s clit as she watched you gag and drool around her cock was too great a pleasure to refrain from jerking her hips up just a little — just to feel a little of the base of the strap rub against her cunt. She shut her eyes when she felt the slightest bit of friction against her clit and Wanda laid her head back against the headboard. 

“Okay, that’s all, baby,” Wanda said, now feeling rather eager to move on and fuck you with how desperate she was feeling now. She leaned forward and cupped your face with her hands, wiping your saliva from around your lips and from your chin. Then she kissed you tenderly, stroking your cheeks with her thumbs. “You did such a good job, my good girl. I love seeing my beautiful angel trying her very best to make mommy happy.”

“Are you happy, mama?” you asked, laying your hands flat on the bed and looking at her curiously. 

“I’m very happy, Y/N,” Wanda answered with a soft smile. “I’m so happy to be here with you.” She turned you around and repositioned the both of you so you were on all fours. “Stay here for a moment.”

Wanda moved over to the side and stepped off of the bed. You heard her rustling around through her bag and then her getting back onto the bed, sitting beside you. You sat back on your heels and looked at what was in her hands. “Honey, I might have lied — I have one more surprise for you.”

In her hands was a pretty red collar with a bell at its center, along with a black leather leash to match. You immediately felt your cheeks flush and your thighs press together; you had never been collared by Wanda before, and the image of her tugging you by a leash excited you immensely.

“Does this look alright to you, sweetheart?” Wanda asked gently, moving to you closer and stroking the back of your hand with her fingers. “I know we’ve never done anything like it before, but I thought it might be cute — treating you like my sweet puppy with a collar and leash. But if it’s too much for you, we don’t have to use it. It’s purely experimental, and I bought it only out of curiosity, so don’t be afraid to tell me no, okay?”

“I want to try it, mama,” you told her honestly, holding the leash in your hands and feeling the soft leather with your fingers. “But not very tight on my neck.”

Wanda kissed your forehead. “Alright. I’ll put it on now, and tell me how you like it.” She undid the collar and wrapped it around your neck. She kept checking in with you as she tightened it, making sure it was just right for how you wanted it. Then she tugged on it with the leash, also making sure it wasn’t too harsh on your neck.

When it was on comfortably, it made you giggle a little because the little bell jingled every time you moved. 

That made Wanda laugh too; she thought you looked so cute. Then she put your reindeer antler headband back on and kissed your forehead.

Wanda was on her knees behind you, and you returned to your position on all fours. With the leash circled around her knuckles, she tugged on it and your neck was pulled back slightly. “How does that feel, honey?” she asked. She tugged again, a bit harder this time, so you knew exactly how rough it could feel in the case that you might want to change your mind.

You squeezed your thighs together and repressed a moan. 

God, how could you describe how it felt to have Wanda pull you by a leash? You couldn’t think of anything sexier than being on all fours in a cute outfit she chose for you, fucking you with her cock and tugging you by a leash while you were wearing a collar she also chose specially for you. “That feels good, mama,” you replied, hanging your head and whimpering.

“Does it now?” Intrigued by your response, Wanda tugged harder, watching closely for your reaction as she pulled you all the way up so your back was pressed against her body. Her hand came to your neck and you whimpered. “That feels good, hm?” she asked with a smirk, her lips ghosting over your collar and up to your ear. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed. “Th-That does feel good, mama…” you replied.

“Remember, you can tell me to stop whenever you need, pumpkin. It’s been some time since we’ve had sex, and we’ve never used a collar and leash before,” Wanda reminded you gently. She used her free hand to stroke your hip with her thumb. “Like always, it’s okay to need to take a break to feel the need to stop — even if we’d been having sex regularly, and even if you do enjoy the leash.”

You nodded. “I know, Wanda,” you answered. “Thank you. I know I’m always safe with you.”

Wanda smiled. She craned her head forward over your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “That’s right, angel. Always,” she said. Her hand moved up your back and gently pushed you forward until you were back on all fours. She pushed her hips against your ass and you could feel her strap press against your clothed cunt.

With her leash still wrapped around her knuckles, she placed both hands on your hips and began slowly thrusting her cock against your clothed pussy. The collar and the leash’s tautness wouldn’t let you loll your head forward, and so you were forced to whimper out unabashedly as Wanda’s cock prodded at your clit.

“You look so adorable, honey.” Wanda rubbed her palm in circles against your ass. She delivered a soft spank to your ass and giggled when your body jerked in response. 

Driven by the thrill of seeing her pretty doll all sensitive, Wanda tugged on your leash and spanked you again. She tugged on your leash again in a quick jerking motion to make the bell on your collar jingle.

Wanda pulled her hips back a little and took her cock into her hands, prodding directly at your clothed hole and twitching her hips forward to apply pressure. “You’d come if all I did was keep going like this, wouldn’t you?” she inquired with a terrifying amount of curiosity. 

“I… M-Maybe…” you stuttered. It was true — you were really that sensitive to your stepmother. 

You supposed, paired with the clothed fucking, that she’d only have to utter a few dirty words and deliver a few spanks in order for her to bring you to orgasm. 

With that knowledge of her power over you, there was no telling what kinds of teasing mommy would feel like putting you through. 

“Maybe?” Wanda repeated, clearly still preoccupied with watching the way her strap pressed against your cunt. She slowly slid its tip down and applied pressure to your clit. “Shall we see how fast it takes?”

Your stomach dropped and you immediately protested. “No, mama! Please, I want… inside. I want you, mommy,” you pleaded.

Wanda didn’t respond for a bit of time. She put her hands on your hips and slowly began thrusting her cock against your cunt, watching as it slit down your clothed slit and brushed against your throbbing clit each time her hips moved forward and she pulled your ass back. 

You hung your head as you moaned out softly, but also because you felt some defeat for what seemed like Wanda being determined to get you off with your clothes still on. 

Your leash was tugged back and your head was forced to position itself upright. 

“Where’s my little girl’s enthusiasm now, hm?” Wanda tipped her head to the side to get a look at your expression. “You’ve always been such a sore loser, baby.”

At the sight of your protruding bottom lip, Wanda added, “Oh, don’t pout now, angel.” She rubbed your ass soothingly. “You want mommy to fuck you? Is that what you want?” She leaned forward, her cock slotting itself right in the slit of your cunt and against your clit, and tugged your leash back so she could look at you better. 

“That’s what I want, mama,” you answered obediently. Your stepmother loved when you begged for her. “Please, mommy. Please fuck me.”

With a pleased smile, Wanda used the hand with your leash around her knuckles and pulled your head back by your hair. She leaned forward further and pressed a kiss to your neck and then your shoulder. “I’ll fuck you good,” she obliged, her voice low and vaguely threatening. “Don’t you worry, princess.”

While she rubbed your lower back with her warm palm, Wanda slowly pulled your underwear off. You heard her coo in amusement, “Honey, you’re the first Christmas gift I’ve opened all season.” She pulled it down your thighs and you felt your cunt part from its sticky confines. “And I have to say, I’m rather pleased.”

You felt her move backwards and her hands were placed on both sides of your ass. She ran her tongue through your cunt and audibly moaned, her fingers moving down to your hips and pulling you against her face.

The warmth of her tongue and the coolness of her face against your swollen, desperate pussy felt incredible. You let out a long moan and grasped at the bedsheets. Her tongue explored your soft cunt lips, tracing through your labia and moving gently over your throbbing clit. She dipped into your opening and groaned at the flavor of where you tasted the sweetest. 

Greedily, her lips wrapped around you and sucked, her tongue flattening to taste as much of you as she could. When your moans became breathless and more restrained, Wanda pulled away against her own urges of gluttony, but not before lapping up around your inner thighs and around your cunt. 

“I missed tasting you,” Wanda told you and completely removed your underwear from around your knees and tossed it aside onto the bed. 

“Mommy…” you uttered quietly, feeling your cheeks flush. 

Wanda reached back, where she had placed down a bottle of lube that she’d brought with the harness. She lathered enough onto her cock and laid it down where your panties were. Then she tightened her grip on your leash again. “Are you ready, baby?”

You nodded, nearly about to cry from how pent up you were feeling. “I’m ready.”

With a hand around your cock and the other around your hip to keep you steady, Wanda slipped her tip past your opening then steadily pushed herself inside of you. She watched as your cunt wrapped around her cock, your body jerking forward slightly as you adjusted to her size.

“How often do you masturbate, my love?”

Struggling to reply as you braced the entrance of Wanda’s cock, you uttered, “Only the times when I send you pictures and videos of myself, mama.”

“Only then? You never touch yourself without letting me know?”

“Never.”

“That’s good,” Wanda cooed and rubbed your lower back. From the last time you sent a video of yourself, that meant that the last time you’d touched yourself was about a week and a half ago. She would deep in mind how sensitive you were.

A sigh was released from her as her hips finally met your ass. Her hand rounded your hips and she pressed her fingers against your lower stomach. “Do you feel that, angel?” she asked. “Mommy’s all in now. You did such a good job.”

Tightening her hold on your leash by wrapping it once more around her knuckles, Wanda put both hands on your hips and began pulling you back onto her hips. The tautness of the leash made it so you maintained the arch in your back, and so all your moans and adorable little noises were released out loud so Wanda could hear them. 

“Ah, fuck,” she mumbled. “You’re so adorable, my angel.”

Watching your ass as she pulled you against her hips drove Wanda slightly mad with desire, and she began to thrust her hips forward, your bodies meeting with a greater amount of force. Then Wanda placed a hand on your upper back and pushed you down so you were on your elbows. Her thrusts quickened and Wanda delivered a spank to your ass, making you yelp. 

“Tell mommy how much you love getting your cunt fucked by her cock,” she demanded, tugging on your leash and grinning as she listened to how difficult it was for you to speak with how harshly she was thrusting against your ass.

“Mama, I- ” Your words were cut short when Wanda tugged you by your leash so your face was away from the pillow in front of you and you could speak properly. “I love when mommy fucks me with her cock,” you drolled out between moans. “I’m… mommy’s needy cockslut.”

Your wording awakened something within your stepmother and her fingernails dug into your hips. She slid out of you and turned you around. She repositioned the both of you so she was laying down, one elbow holding herself up. With your leash around her knuckles, she tugged you forward as if you were a dog so you had to crawl up her legs and up her body.

It made your whole body thrum with a warm heat as you watched how Wanda looked at you, with unabashed hungry desire — and all for you. She placed her hands on your hips and had you sit on her cock, your thighs straddling her hips and your hands on your knees. She smiled at your strained little face as you took her thick cock into you again.

“I would like to see you without this now.” Wanda reached up and you leaned forward to allow her to reach your torso. She undid your bra and wrapped her arms around your waist, bringing you forward to allow her to wrap her lips around one of your nipples. 

Her warm hands moved up the smooth curve of your back as she kissed your breasts and then up to your neck. She straightened you back up and sat herself up so she could reach back and unclip her own bra. 

A hand came to the back of your head and she led you towards her breasts, and you wrapped your lips around one of her nipples. A soft, relieved sigh escaped from your stepmother’s lips and she laid down flat against the bed. 

As you suckled from Wanda, she placed her hands on your hips and began moving you up and down along her cock, guiding you into riding her. Your warm exhales warmed her breasts and hardened her nipples and she brought you closer. “Always so gentle with mommy,” she said and kissed the top of your head.

Gently, she straightened you up again and made you part from her breasts. “I want to see you ride, Y/N,” she told you and placed her hands on your hips. “Come on, baby. Make mommy happy. Let me see my little girl come.” She let go of your leash and let you ride her freely, at times pulling you down onto her hips harshly when she wanted to see you yelp — which she quite frequently did.

“That’s right,” she encouraged. Her eyes shut in pleasure as the rolling of your hips ground the base of Wanda’s strap against her clit. When shopping for which toys to use with you, Wanda had been curious about a different kind of harness that was positioned a bit lower than what was typical, so it allowed for more stimulation against the wearer’s clit. She was rather pleased with how well it was working for her.

Her hands worked at keeping your hips rolling forward, and even you seemed to be reaching closer and closer to orgasm, resulting in your speed quickening and with greater force as you came back down and met her hips.

“M-Mama…” you moaned out. “I’m gonna come.”

“It’s alright, baby,” she permitted. “Come for mommy. Let me see my good girl. Come here.” She moved her hands up your sides and wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you down and rolled on top of you. Her hand cupped the side of your face and she thrusted into you as you laid on your back, your thighs tightening around her. 

Wanda’s forehead laid against yours as she moaned, her hips thrusting in a slightly upwards movement as well as forward so she was able to rub herself against the base of her strap. You watched with your eyes half-open as mommy seemed to inch closer to her own orgasm. 

Your arms wrapped around her waist and Wanda grasped as the side of your ass, pulling you up against her desperately as she sought the pleasure of fucking you at the same time as grinding her sensitive clit against her strap. Her hips quickened and your moans meshed together in time with the slapping of skin below your sweaty bodies.

Naturally, with how sensitive she had built you up to be from the moment she began, you came first. Wanda raised her head to watch as you came for her, and she stroked your cheekbone with her thumb supportively, whispering out gently, “That’s right, honey. Come for mommy. Let it all out. I’m here.”

Wanda came second, just in time before her thrusting would have become overstimulating for you. She buried her face in your neck and you wrapped your arms around her warm body. Her shampoo smelled so good, and the way she moaned against your skin sent her warm breath down your clavicle and brushed her soft lips against your neck.

You loved when mommy came like this — all close to you so you could hug her and make her feel cared for just like she always did for you.

“Mommy, are you okay?” you asked when Wanda came down from her climax and was gently panting against your neck. You felt her nod and she tightened her arm’s hold around your waist.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine, my angel.” She pressed kisses to your jawline and up to the lobe of your ear as she slipped from your body and brought you against her body. “I feel happy.”

With her other hand, she undid her harness and lifted her hip from the bed so she could slip it off of her body and place it where the rest of your lingerie and the bottle of lube were laying. Then, she took your headband off and your collar too.

When the two of you had been cuddling together laying together, warm under the bed’s blankets and talking about how much you’d been enjoying your time together so far, you lifted yourself onto your elbow. “Wanda, I brought a gift for you,” you said, proudly and with a smile. “I want you to open it early, while it’s just the two of us.”

Wanda smiled at you and ran her hand up and down your side. “Do you? Shall I close my eyes while you get it?”

You nodded and Wanda smirked at how adorable you looked when you were excited. Then she closed her eyes and sat up a bit against the pillow and the headboard, the blankets wrapped around her body comfortably. 

She listened as you stepped off of the bed and went through your bag. She heard the crinkling of some wrapping paper as you took the gift from your back and lept back into bed, making Wanda laugh as you hurriedly tucked yourself back under the sheets with her — but she kept her eyes closed like she promised. 

“Okay, open your eyes now,” you said and laid the gift down in her lap. 

The wrapped gift was a rectangular shape wrapped in light pink wrapping paper patterned with gingerbread houses and tiny gingerbread men, with a glittering silver bow wrapped around the gift. Beneath it, was a thin cardboard gift tag that wrote: ‘For Wanda.’

Wanda smiled warmly at the sight of it, and she smiled and scooted herself close to you so your bodies were pressed against each other. She rested her head on your shoulder and began opening the gift. 

What was beneath the wrapping paper was revealed to be a book, and when Wanda fully opened it to see what it was, she felt herself melt completely. “Y/N…” she whispered quietly, running her eyes down the details of the book’s cover and its perfect preservation. 

“It’s a first edition copy,” you told her, carefully opening the cover and pointing to the print date of 1950. 

Many months ago, Wanda told you of how she often had to move around with her family, often displaced by the war in Sokovia, and unable to secure permanent housing due to her family’s financial situation. During the many moves, her family was often forced to leave a majority of their things behind, especially once they found a route to America. 

One of the things Wanda had lost was her copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, her very favorite book during her childhood. At home, she had a small statue on the living room bookshelf of a lion that reminded her of the book, but other than that, she’d never bought herself another copy.

It wouldn’t be the same, she told you, if she bought the book for herself in order to replace the old one, for it had been a gift from her late parents when she was young. 

“Y/N, thank you,” she said, setting the book down on her lap and wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tightly. “You really have no idea how much this means to me. This is such a special gift.” She sounded tearful as she spoke against the side of your head. 

“I love you, Wanda.”

She pulled away and quickly swiped at her eyes to kiss you. “I love you so much, Y/N,” she spoke against your lips and kissed you again, and again against your cheek and then against your temple and your forehead. “I love you so, so much.”

It’d been so long since Wanda immigrated to America. Her parents had passed years ago and though she often spoke with Pietro, she saw him most commonly during the holidays and sometimes during the summers. As such, sometimes Wanda forgot parts of even her own life — parts of herself. 

It wasn’t at all that she forgot about her childhood and her life before America, but more so that as life went on and as she grew and aged, she thought less and less about such things in the past.

She cried after she received the gift while you comforted her, and she told you how much she missed her parents and how she felt guilty for not having thought of them and Sokovia for some time. 

“Can you read the book to me, Wanda?” you asked once Wanda had stopped crying, but was still laying her head against your chest. She looked at you and smiled when you met her eyes in affirmation.

For the rest of the night, you laid in bed with Wanda, your head on her shoulder as she read the book to you. She had only ever read it in Sokovian, and she kept mentioning things about the English translation and how it was interesting how things were worded differently between the two languages. She recalled memories of her family and of Sokovia as she went through the chapters — when her parents had read the book to her and how she would be read to while laying in bed with Pietro before bed, and anything else that came to mind as she spoke of her childhood and her family. 

You could tell how happy it made her to recall all those things, and also, how happy it made her that she was reading the book to you. 

There was something really special about recalling and reawakening such memories with you; it was true that she couldn’t ever revisit the past nor speak with her parents again, but it was something rather special to share all of this with you. She couldn’t get it back, but she could keep it all alive, and that could truly only be done if shared with someone she loved. 

With the gentle flakes of snow falling outside the hotel window, illuminated by the warm light of the nightstand by the bed and contrasted by the dark moonlit skies of the evening, Wanda spent that night sharing with you what she shared with no one else — what she would never share with anyone else. 

To share such precious memories with you was to make them all eternal. It could only be you, after all. 

Wanda had forgotten important parts of herself, only to find them within you. Love has a unique ability to do that — giving you a map of yourself, and a home within another.

[loafgeto]

KINKMAS DAY TWO: AGE GAP WITH SATORU

synopsis | why do you always go to your dad’s workplace? well, to simply drop him off his lunch! but somehow you always end up in his boss’s office.

contents | fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language, secret relationship, AGE GAP (reader is in early 20’s while satoru is early 40’s), small mentions of tsumiki and megumi (he’s the same age as reader), implied dilf!gojo. NSFW, semi-public sex (gojo’s office - yet again), dirty talk, praising, somewhat cocky gojo, pet names (use of daddy), implied daddy kink, scratch marks, slight cock warming, slight choking (you just like gojo’s hand around your neck🤗), unprotected sex, cumshots, orgasms, squirting. you and gojo nearly get caught. not proofread !!

word count | 4.6k

notes | oh my lord i’ve never used ‘daddy’ in any of my fics before and i nearly cringed bc i remembered something from a long time ago LMFAOOO i’d call gojo daddy though cuz daddy’s home 🗣️🗣️

tags | @aydene @biscuitsngravie @homeslices @tiredkitten @get0sfav @erensflies @bleachisfood @witchbybirth (if you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

your encounter with satoru first happened when your mother requested you to bring your dad’s lunch for him, since he had forgotten it. as any normal daughter would do, of course you’d comply and take the food to your dad, thinking about nothing else but to move along with your day. he just started working under a new organization several months ago, one much larger than his previous corporation and earning a bigger salary.

it was your first time ever in the tall and luxurious building, cramped with busy employees and staff, loud sounds of voices and other noises ringing your eardrums as you navigated through. during that moment, all you knew was that you’re going to get lost, even after several workers by the front desk specifically directed you and gave you a guest pass before returning to their duties. your father message said he was on the ninth floor of the building, so that’s where you venture off to after getting on the elevator.

what was even more astonishing was the complex hallways of the ninth floor. it was awkward for you, arriving at the floor and having absolutely no knowledge of where to go. and while turning a corner, you just so happen to bump into satoru— a man who’d you never thought you’d continue seeing regularly.

at first, it was just a mild attraction. you’ve never seen him before, so you easily mistook him as someone several years older than you. but boy, were you wrong. from your first impression, you presumed satoru as an employee that everyone admired and wanted to be around with, someone who’s confident and playful, sarcastic at times, and enjoys the little things in life. satoru had immediately noticed that you were lost but pretending like you’re weren’t, and he’s teases you about it before inquiring if you need help.

and not wanting to embarrass yourself even more in front of him, you gladly accept the help of this man. and to your luck, satoru happened to know who your dad was, and guided you to the department he was positioned in. and minutes after you met with your dad, was the moment when you found out satoru was your dad’s boss. and that satoru wasn’t even damn close to your age. he was a much older man, almost as old as your own dad. satoru’s voice was raspy, but welcoming with a hint of flirtation. his white hair was natural, glossy blue eyes bright and invigorating enthusiasm like he’s in his 20’s.

you were astonished, embarrassed even to think about the fact you had the hots for him when you immediately saw him. you and your university friends always joked about having an older boyfriend, or a sugar daddy, or someone as old as their own father. you didn’t take it seriously, because you were certain that you’d never get or even find someone close to the age of your dad.

but encountering satoru just so happens to change all of that.

for the next three months, you and satoru often saw each other. your interactions were short, mostly simple hellos and how are yous, nothing more. well, maybe there was more. there was always some sort of intense tension between the two of you: manifesting for you to get close and driving you to want to continue knowing each other better. therefore, this withholding attraction just so happens to lead you to a night with satoru in a bed of a hotel.

obviously, you both agreed to keep your relationship a secret, especially away from your dad. you feel penitent sometimes whenever you hear your dad boast about how amazing satoru is, and how much he’s being promoted and getting recognition for his diligent work. your dad’s an excellent employee, and everyone grew to admire him. but most of his promotions were due to you requesting satoru to do it, well because you want the best for your dad.

and though it’s quite odd to promote a new employee to a high position, satoru still does it— somehow convincing his own bosses to accept your dad’s promotions.

however, your attraction for satoru was fervent and devouring you whole when you were trying to deny such feelings towards him. none of your friends knew about your relationship with satoru, not even your best friend- who you tell everything. he was the same as you, swearing he wouldn’t text or call you anymore and would leave you alone since it’s most likely for the best. his words dagger your heart each time, and it makes you plead for him not. hence, always caused you two to come back to each other. you can never resist the temptation of sending satoru that one message that would lead you to him pounding his heavy cock into you, having you cry for more and grind your body against his.

therefore, your secret relationship then continued for another five months— and well, you’re most definitely certain that you’re in love with satoru. but you’re probably never going to disclose such information, though you’re certain you make it obvious. satoru’s love life was never as fortunate either. his relationship with his previous wife consisted of countless arguments, disagreements and misunderstandings that she couldn’t handle it anymore. but that’s all you know, and you figured he’d probably never get too serious with a 20 year old and just wants to mess around for the fun of it.

so, you’re deciding to take this moment of fun until you both officially come to terms of no longer contacting each other.

your dad’s aware of the bond you and satoru share, but he only thinks it’s because of your similar interests in traveling. whenever satoru is invited to your parents’ home and you’re there, he’d always inform you about his weekend or business trips, encouraging you to go and buying you souvenirs. you both pretend as if you never see each other, but of course, it’s most likely possible that you two were fucking in his car the night before. your dad had never once assumed anything sexual between you and satoru, so you both got away with it perfectly.

today’s another day where you’re dropping off your dad’s lunch. you offered to bring your dad lunch nearly every single day, which allowed your mother to prepare warm dishes for him. and because of your regular visits, nearly everyone on the ninth floor knew about you. they always greeted you, welcomed you with smiles and short taps on the shoulder. most of the men tease your dad, since they wanted their daughters to bring them their lunch too but other than that, no one ever speculates on the other reasons why you’re actually there.

“[name]! you’re here early,” your dad greets you whenever you approach his office desk. he takes a quick glance at the bento box wrapped in your hand and smiles. “i wonder what your mother made for me today. i can already smell how wonderful it is.”

you chuckle. “right? i almost ate it on the way here.”

“are you hungry too? we can share,” your dad replies with a short laugh as you place the bento box down on his desk. “just give me about ten more minutes, sweetie. i’m almost done with my final documents,” he adds on next to which you shake your head.

“it’s alright, dad. i have to get going now anyway. i’m meeting up with several of my friends for a study session, i’ll see you later tonight though,” you reply, smiling before leaning down to peck a kiss on your dad’s cheek. he sighs, disappointed since he always looks forward to sharing his lunches with you but he returns a wide smile.

“okay, my daughter, no problem at all. call me whenever you’re coming over then,” your dad utters, and you nod before saying your final byes and waves.

as you disappear from your dad’s sight, you quietly slip to the restroom nearby. he thinks you’re leaving, but you’re actually not. interestingly enough, this restroom was just right across from satoru’s office, and you always used the area to your advantage in order to sneak into his office. it’s worked countless of times, and you didn’t even notify satoru about coming to see him today, since it wasn’t like you go there everyday.

there wasn’t any employees or anyone else around, so you gently knock on his office door. you wait several moments, before hearing him reply from the other side. “come in.”

twisting the knob and opening the door, you step inside, eyes faltering to satoru.

satoru was sitting behind his desk, eyes riveted on the screen of his computer that he didn’t even look away until he detected your figure in his perception. satoru lifts his gaze, surprised that you appeared unexpectedly and stands from his chair. “[name], what are you doing here?” he questions.

“oh, you know- just dropping off my dad’s lunch like always. surprise?” you reply, almost with a giddy attitude as satoru approaches you. he shuts the door behind of you, clicking it locked before pressing his hand on your back to pull you close to him.

“you should’ve called or texted me that you were coming,” satoru pouts, leaning in for a kiss but you turn your head, rejecting his lips and furrow your brows. satoru chuckles, “no kiss today?”

“if you give me a kiss, you know where it’ll lead to.”

satoru smiles, now pressing your body close to his. “i know, princess. but just one? been missing you since yesterday after you left,” he whispers, hot breath tickling your ear that it’s almost hard to resist not crashing your lips onto his.

it’s addicting— satoru and his tender voice, words pulling you in like a magnet and making your heart flit in motions you couldn’t control. you shift your eyes slightly, meeting his gaze before pouting. “i’m guessing that’s a yes then,” satoru smiles wider before leaning in, pressing his lips passionately against yours.

your hands reach behind satoru’s back, nudging into the material of his blazer as he deepens the kiss, holding your body against his. your eyes close shut, lips hungrily moving with satoru’s, and a moan quietly escapes when he pushes his tongue into your mouth. he groped the side of your ass with a hand, gently caressing the fat underneath your denims.

“sa-satoru..” you quietly utter as he breaks the kiss, lowering his lips against your jawline and down your neck. “n-no more..”

“you sure, angel? sounds like you don’t want me to stop though,” satoru purrs, pulling his face away to directly look down at you again. a faint smirk appears on his lips as he drags his thumb over your lips. “we only saw each other for twenty minutes yesterday, ‘nd i wasn’t able to return the favor for you. let me do something quick, yeah?”

satoru’s words are alluring, and you find yourself nodding your head before you even realized it.

whatever satoru meant by ‘doing something quick’, just so happens to steer towards you being stuffed with his cock and riding him while he sits on his chair. you’re both completely naked, clothes discarded around his office’s floor, moans muffled behind of your lips as you slowly rock your hips, moving against the length of his hard member. satoru’s holding his moans too, dick throbbing from the feeling of your gummy walls pulsating and tightening around him.

“you really gotta stop coming here, princess. i’m out of condoms because of you,” satoru speaks softly, a low grunt following after as he feels you squeeze around him when you glide your hips up. initially, satoru wouldn’t have done this because he’s out of protection, but hearing your whiny voice and seeing your desperate expression granted the acceptation of going raw. “b-but you’re the one who-“ you start, pausing when satoru bucks his hips, jerking his cock deep in your aching hole.

“i was the one who what?” satoru repeats with a smug smile, both hands holding the sides of your hips. you squirm, unable to reply at that instant, feeling intense rushes of ecstasy flowing in your veins. “you’re blaming me for this?”

“no..” you finally respond with a short squeal, bouncing your hips faster on his cock. most of the time when you two are having sex, it’s with a condom and you never feel the bare skin of his dick unless it’s in your mouth. but whenever it’s inserted warm and hard into your pussy, you just become an entirely different person— drunk all over him and moving like you’re trying to milk him dry. “‘ts my fault, ‘toru. shouldn’t have c-come here..”

“you’re right. you shouldn’t have, but i’m glad you did,” satoru replies, eyes lowering to where you two connected. his cock twitches each moment he watches your folds spreading just to fit him, his girth getting coated by your slickness and clenched by your overbearing neediness. “can never get tired of my cock, no?”

“never!” you mewl out, your fingertips prodding into the flesh of satoru’s shoulders. your moans pitch louder, nearly resonating the room along with the wet squelching noises of your pussy grinding against satoru’s cock. it’s filthy to hear, but you loved it. “love, love, your cock s’much..”

“you gotta be quiet princess, these walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru groans quietly, slapping your ass as you proceed to bounce your hips. of course, you’re aware of that, you always are but you can’t refrain yourself from moaning like that. especially when satoru’s bare cock is rubbing into you so perfectly, making you reach an orgasm.

“satoru, satoru- please-“ you cry out his name repeatedly, but he quiets your lips by pinning his against yours, having your moans fall into his mouth instead. you know you need to tone your voice down, especially when there’s high chances of people walking outside of satoru’s office. the only benefit of fucking in his office was that there wasn’t any windows peering out to the hall. however, even if these walls were thick enough, satoru knew you’d both get caught eventually because of how loud you’re moaning.

but satoru couldn’t deny the way he loves hearing you utter his name so affectionately and erotically when you’re pleading for more. it makes him feel like he’s special, like he’s being gifted by something no one else can receive from you. you’re so different from his previous partners, it always makes him ponder how he even found himself in a situation with a college girl. he’s not complaining though, not after reaching this far with you. satoru’s thoughts process towards an end when his smirk grows wider because of your cunt fluttering around him, making him realize you’d reach your orgasm.

“‘toru.. please.. want you to fuck me, please,” you whine, pushing your hips down to feel his cock spread your sensitive walls once more. you’re almost rocking against him again before he firmly holds you, smiling at how needy you already became even after orgasming.

“you wouldn’t want your father to know that you’re fucking his boss, do you—?” satoru tilts his head, as he brings one hand to softly thumb the skin underneath your eyelids. “or maybe you do, that’s why you’re begging for me like this.”

“no, no, i don’t. please, satoru- i’ll be quiet, i promise,” you frown, trying to convince him with your sheepish voice. but you both know that wasn’t bound to occur. with the way satoru thrusts his hips, it’s unlikely you’d stay quiet even with something covering your mouth. you bite your lower lip, trying not to move your hips as you cockwarm him for a little while. he gives you an expression of consideration, a small and sly smirk tugging the corner of his lips.

“fine. but on one condition.”

your eyes seem to light up, and nodding your head, you’re indicating that you’ll do anything if it meant satoru fucking you.

“you’ll have to call me daddy,” satoru blurts the condition, raising your body to press you down against his desk, knocking several small objects off the surface and making them roll on the ground. you breathe a small gasp, glancing up at him with a large set of eyes. “am i seeing this as a no?”

you shake your head at an instant, pulling him close by the neck. “n-no.. i’ll say it,” you reply quietly, swallowing lightly.

“hmm?”

“da-daddy… please, i want your cock..” you plead once again, almost breaking gazes with him because of how flustered you felt. you never uttered such name in a sexual setting before, but maybe you’ll start to like it, the way satoru is.

satoru has you in the mating press position, pressing your thighs down close to the cold top of his desk as he pushes his cock past your folds and starts thrusting his hips. your breathy moans starts plummeting fast and it’s just as you thought before, you’re unable to refrain them back. especially with the angle of your g-spot satoru’s cock is scraping against, driving you back towards another orgasm and stirring your core.

“n-ngh- fuck!” you cry, eyes shutting as your hands begin to claw the skin of satoru’s back.

“you really want to get caught, don’t ya?” satoru chuckles, nudging his cock into your deepest parts and feeling your cunt squeeze around him. just as long as everyone outside was occupied and not paying too close attention, you two would most likely be fine. but your voice seems to be pitching higher each moment, potentially drawing others to become curious on what’s happening in this room.

“no! i-i don’t, ‘m sorry, daddy- i’ll really quiet down,” you manage to choke out as he’s gradually pounding into you, heavy balls smacking against your wet vulva. satoru groans quietly, murmuring low explicit words as his fingertips prod the flesh of your thighs. you press your palm over your lips, hoping that’d help your moans stop from reaching further out to the other side of satoru’s office door.

“is my good girl sure ‘bout that? sure she can keep quiet while being fucked by my cock?” satoru grunts, lifting one of his hands to wrap around your neck. he gently presses against your throat, smirking at how you’re covering up your moans even though they’re still audible beneath. well, how can you now when he’s saying that name to address you?

honestly, satoru lost the amount of times he’s fucked you like this. he still remembers the first time— when you both encountered each other in front of a convenience store one late friday night. you were returning home from a college party, while he just finished completing paperwork. surprisingly, you weren’t as drunk as satoru expected, since most college students partied hard. even though you weren’t drunk, you acted like it. stumbling your words, averting your gaze from his, appearing flustered each moment he neared you. there was no stench of alcohol on you, and he speculated you were directing towards something else. however, he didn’t assume further until you two neared a hotel. you seemed to have noticed the building and it must’ve triggered a nerve, as satoru shortly finds your lips pressing on his. you admitted how you wanted him, and that was all when it started.

such a young and horny adult yearning for the touch of an older man. when you two fucked the first time: your cunt openly took in his thick length, your walls opening to fit around him perfectly— such a young pussy satoru never thought he’d have his cock stuffed in. the way your quiet moans quickly turned into loud ones, voice crying out his name until you no longer couldn’t.

satoru had never felt attracted to a younger woman before, specifically one who’s still in college and younger than his own daughter. you were even the same age as his son, megumi. satoru figured you’d probably affix your attraction towards him, but he shortly realizes how you completely disregard the boy, even when megumi showed interest in you under his stoic demeanor.

just what was so special about satoru that made you stay around him?

“fucking around with a man as old as your dad, aren’t you ashamed?” satoru questions, his hand still wrapped around your neck before he pushes your hand away to insert his thumb into your mouth. your tongue instantly swirls around his finger, eyes nearly rolling back because of how rough satoru’s thrusting. “it’s ‘cause i fuck you good, don’t i? that’s why you’re always coming around.”

“n-no, that’s not true!” you cry out, your throat moving against his palm. “then what about you? a-aren’t you messing with someone as old as your daughter?” you repeat the question, making him hiss slightly.

“what if i said i’m not ashamed?” satoru decides to answers, short groans following as he fastens his thrusts, making you wince louder. “if i was, i wouldn’t be doing this with you, y’know. it may be wrong, but it feels right.”

“‘toru—“ you whine, tears welling your eyes as you’re unable to formulate the proper words to respond to him. but they dagger you in the heart, making it pound heavily, flourishing your ears. in this sense, you believed in satoru’s words and you also felt the same he did. “i love you, i love you, satoru,” you manage to chant out.

those three words were something satoru’s never expected to hear from you and for some reason, it switches something in him. he knows why and what it is: he loves you too. he’s just been too afraid to admit it ever since his first marriage failed, claiming that there’s no curse worse than love. satoru claims it’s utter bullshit, that there’s no need for such emotions because of what it can do to a person. but when satoru met you— you just happen to change it all for him.

“f-fuck..” satoru grunts, holding your jawline before kissing you harshly. he’s still thrusting, sensually and rough, pace quickening as he’s nearing his orgasm. “mm- i’m always around you- because i love you, ‘toru!” you repeat again when your lips parts. your mind somewhat was becoming foggy, yet these words are able to slip out casually, but it’s genuine and that’s all you need to get your reason across.

“i love you too, [name]. sososo much,” satoru replies as your lips meet again, your tongues passionately grinding together. his thrusts become harder to the point his desk is shaking and slightly moving to another position. his lips move down to your neck, peppering soft kisses before he whines in your ear. “fuck it. scream all you want, baby. let your dad and everyone else hear how much we love each other.”

your pussy clenches around him at his words. it’s arousing to think about, to imagine other people outside listening to an older man relentlessly fuck his cock into you. you’re already staining satoru’s desk with your arousal, both of your moans mixing with the wet sounds from where you two connected becoming louder that it’d probably be audible from the hall.

“i—i’m cumming.. oh god-“ you can’t fathom how many times satoru has already made you orgasm, you’ve lost track. your body’s sensitive and quivering with the amount of pleasure flowing through your veins. it’s overwhelming, however it feels absolutely amazing.

satoru’s rough drags with his cock has you nudging your nails into the skin of his back once more, leaving long red scratch marks visible on his pale skin. you’re both close, warm bodies chafing against each other’s as time slowly rolls forward. maybe you two didn’t know that there were several people outside of satoru’s office, unbeknownst to what was happening on the other side.

“don’t forget the name, princess. c’mon, let me hear it.”

“daddy!” your cry of pleasure echoes off the walls, it’s incomparable to the sound of his cock ravaging your cunt, plunging deep towards your womb. “a-are you gonna cum, daddy? please cum inside me.”

“y’know, i can’t do that, angel,” satoru grunts, lifting your body off the table and propping you up with his firm hold. he’s never given you a creampie before, out of concern of you getting pregnant since the chances were still much very high despite his age. but seeing how you’re always so desperate for one just makes satoru want to forget the consequences at least once and do it.

“please— ‘toru- ngh, daddy, please!” you whine out, feeling him piston hard into you when you uttered his name. your moans are messy, his thrusts are sloppy and wet, and whoever else is outside is probably aware of what’s happening. but you two couldn’t care about the world, thoughts only occupied with each other’s embraces and passion. “please don’t pull outtt!” you cry next, sucking his cock into your cunt.

but he doesn’t listen to you and pulls out anyway.

“fuck, i’m cumming,” satoru groans before his warm load shoots on your lower belly, and your ejaculation follows next, squirting all over him, parts of his desk and the floor.

gaspy breaths were only heard between you and satoru as he sets you back on the desk, your forehead pressing against his bare chest. you can hear the vibrations of his heart, pounding softly beside your ear as one of his hands reach to hold the back of your head. the moment feels rather romantic, and you couldn’t help but recall to the moment he said he loves you too.

it sends roiling signals to your core and your eyes search for satoru’s face as he was cleaning up the mess on your lower belly. “‘toru..” you whisper softly and he raises his gaze.

“yes?” he replies.

there were no more words uttered when your lips meet his, ever so gently and endearing. you feel satoru smile within the kiss as he pulls your chest close to his. it’s romantic, more than anything you’ve felt before. was this what it was like being in love with an older man? or just, gojo satoru in general?

a knock shortly interrupts you and satoru, causing the two of you to drift away and turn towards the door.

“um.. sir, are you alright in there?”

the voice belonged none other than to your father.

you panic, turning to satoru who shakes his head, indicating for you to remain silent. he keeps a calm expression through all this. satoru then remembered about a small group meeting he needed to attend, but forgot about it due to your arrival. he sighs, “i’m fine. just got distracted a little, please go to the room. i will be there shortly.”

“understood,” your father replies, before quiet hurries leave the other side of the door.

it’s silent again, but just to make sure no one else was still out there, the two of you quickly cleaned up and redressed in your clothes. satoru takes a quick peek into the hall, sighing when there wasn’t anyone around anymore. but that didn’t mean that no one didn’t hear what was happening inside of his office. satoru’s certain that your dad’s aware about him sleeping with someone, but that someone he didn’t know was you. from now on, it’s going to be riskier. but satoru couldn’t stop himself anymore. he returns to you, watching as you were slipping on your shoes.

“you free tonight?” satoru questions, a small grin on his face for a hopeful yes.

“i’m going to my parents’ for dinner tonight,” you reply, approaching him and tiptoeing to give him another quick kiss on the lips. “well.. i mean, i’m free after that though.”

satoru’s eyes burn with excitement, and he wraps his arms around you once more. “come to my house afterwards then. megumi’s out with his friends for the night so it’ll just be you and me,” he explains, lowering his face near yours. “we can have a nice dinner. talk and do whatever. that sound good to you?”

“sounds more than wonderful,” you reply, giggling softly.

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: happy early birthday to my one and only gojo satoru 😴 i should’ve published on his bday but i already have my dates set up UGH it’s ok. hope you guys enjoyed this! once again i was just rushing with the end, LMAO. no pt. 2 for this!! but definitely more dilf/older man gojo fics in the future :P likes and reblogs are always appreciated! thanks for the love and support

[rotthepoet]

Fight - M.Riddle

Summary: Mattheo Riddle breaks your nose, and he kinda feels bad about it.

~2.3k words

Content: Modern Au, Characters are 18+, No use of Y/N, No determined house, Mattheo doesn't like using his words, descriptions of fighting and blood, maybe ooc everyone? dunno this fandom is weird i love it, mention of drug use(tobacco, weed, alcohol), Mattheo's love language is acts of service and gift giving fight me, rushed ending sorry chat i'm getting back into writing again, not proof read

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Violence isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. Not for any reason, but I suppose you really don’t need a reason to hate something so savage. I don’t like action movies, the idea of contact sports and martial arts in the muggle world is barbaric to me, and even watching beaters and chasers hurdle towards each other on the Quidditch pitch makes me cringe.

Hogwarts is full of many fights. They're unavoidable, I suppose. Occasionally, the more disorderly underclassmen will break out into a wizard’s duel. Bright flashes of light and the screams of ignorantly casted hexes will draw onlookers nearby, blocking up the already crowded hallways with a ring of students encouraging their peers with reckless abandon. In fact, there were rumors of a secret dueling club that had been organizing these fights for centuries.

However, there are only so many different hexes and jinxes to terrorize and entertain your classmates with before things become… stale. This conundrum, along with unstable hormones, had sparked a new infatuation among Hogwarts upperclassmen.

Fist-fights.

The idea was childish. Any problem imaginable could be sorted with words, or even wands, and yet both boys and girls fought nail, tooth, and, claw just for an ounce of respect. Maybe an ounce of attention. If I remember right, even an ounce of weed (This was the day many students had to undergo a veritaserum-induced interrogation.) . It was foolish, and oftentimes fights were shut down by the hands of professors within moments.

That did not seem to be the case today.

As if by some miracle, or in my case a misfortune, professors seemed to be distinctly absent from the hallways in which Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott, seventh year Slytherin’s and star quidditch players, beat each other into a pulp.

And by my luck, I was stuck at the barricade of sorts, facing the fight without obstruction as my peers tried to press closer, obscuring my exit from the situation.

The two of them screamed about who-knows-what, and they flashed between the floor and standing upright. The two of them sauntered and stumbled around, each collision of fist to skin sent my stomach reeling with nausea.

Theodore’s lip was busted and an uncomfortable looking bruise was already forming around his eye. He shrugged-more-so ripped- his robe off and swung wildly at Mattheo, making him back up.

Now, Mattheo Riddle is a tall man. A solid 6 foot if not taller, muscular build after a few years on the Slytherin’s Quidditch team. He was not someone you would want to stand up against, or really be near in general.

The crowd collectively gasped and hollered as he stumbled backwards, right towards me. Against the thick wall of students, I had no where to go. He swung his arm back, fast and powerful.

The sickening crack was all I could hear. Then all I could see were his angry eyes widening in realization that he had hit something other than Theodore. His head swiveled around, and I almost thought he would apologize before a blow landed in his gut, leaving him to curl over and writhe in pain on his knees. At this point, I believe Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had forced themselves into the ring to separate Riddle and Nott.

I don’t remember falling backwards, but I was in the strong hands of another classmate while a few people asked if I was okay. I tasted blood on my lips. Tears slipped down my cheeks heavy and hot, and blood dripped profusely from my nose.

It was Pansy Parkinson that escorted be to the hospital wing.

Pansy was a pretty girl, black hair, silver jewelry, and eyes sharper than a new blade. She wasn’t the most approachable girl I had ever spoken to, but after an assigned pairing in potions, we had become quite the duo. She rambled on about how she’ll have ‘Matt’ apologize, and how ‘the boys’ were going to be in so much shit.

My nose was broken, fixed with a simple, “Episkey!”, from Madam Promfrey, and I was sent on my merry way with Pansy at my side. She, and I do mean this fondly, droned on about how sorry she was( “Pansy, I said it was fine.” “No, it isn’t fine! Those nitwits could have done far worse-“) and how she’ll have Riddle pay me back.

“Really, he is a nice guy!”

“So I’ve heard…” I mumbled, a migraine settling in, and I had half a mind to turn back around to the hospital wing and demand enough tonic to let me sleep for a week.

“Why don’t I just take you back to my dorm and we can watch a movie, eat a few snacks. I still have a ton a chocolate frogs left from our last sleepover.”

I sighed, and gave a small smile. I didn’t really feel like it, but if it would make dear Pansy stop worrying, I folded.

The Slytherin dungeons were oddly warm considering being so far underneath the Black Lake. The stained glass casted rays of green and blue lighting among the common room, and fish swam past the great windows. The common room was nearly empty save for a few students among the chairs reading, a couple playing wizard chess, and a small group of familiar faces occupying the couches in front of the fire place.

The first to turn around was Blaise Zabini, and he greeted Pansy with a smile, then turned to me with a small wince. “How're you feeling?”

“Better now. Thank you.”

Zabini nodded, turning his gaze back to the ever incessantly whining Malfoy. Pansy rolled her eyes, and I could feel the ‘he turned me into a lesbian,’ building in her chest. We retired to her room before her own cat-fight could break out

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It was around 2 am when we emerged from Pansy’s room again, both hungry and unable to sleep even after indulging in far too many sweets. She took my hand, racing me down flights of stairs until we stumbled back into the common room with a small giggle that abruptly stopped at the sight of the same group of boys on the couch. Two new heads had joined the count, and simultaneously each turned to face the two of us.

I locked eyes with Mattheo Riddle, and he looked away.

Fucking dick.

“What was it this time?” Pansy broke the silence, dragging me to the couch now. She sat at the end, myself in the middle, and coincidentally, Riddle on my other side.

Theodore Nott, who sat across the center table from Riddle, nursing his swollen eye with an ice bag answered. “He broke my pipe.”

Mattheo Riddle rolled his eyes, “I said I'm sorry and I'll pay you back." He snapped, and Nott yelled something about that being his favorite glass.

Pansy tsk’d them, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the table, plucking herself an apple and offering me an orange. My nails, cut short due to nervous picking and biting, dug at the thick skin. I lifted my head only when I heard my name being spoken, and I met Nott’s gaze.

“How’s your nose?”

I swore he made a snide glance at Riddle, who visibly tense and turned farther away from me.

“It’s fine. Easily fixed.” I turned my gaze back to the orange, biting my cheek in frustration as my nail continued to slip from the peel. A blush rose to my cheeks in frustration.

“So it was broken. You need to watch where you’re swinging those damn elbows, Riddle.”

Riddle gave Nott the finger, and the company around us laughed. I laughed along, but sighed as I ultimately gave up trying to peel the orange. Pathetic. At least no one had seemed to notice or care.

“No one would have gotten hurt had you not been a little bitch.” Snapped Mattheo to Theodore, and his bruised hand grabbed the orange from my own so quickly I almost didn’t realize it had happened.

His fingers worked swiftly, removing the skin of the fruit before he put it back in my hands. He stood up, “I’m sick of your shit, going to bed. Don’t make too much noise when you come up.” He mumbled, and Theodore rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess.”

I stared down at the peeled orange in my hand. Slowly, I pulled a carpel from the rest of the fruit.

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Things had seemed to turn around for me, lately.

Maybe it was a lucky streak, but the bench I frequented in my free time to read had been consistently available despite being a popular spot most days. Along with that, My favorite seat in History of Magic, which had been unrightfully stolen by a group of friends, had been returned to me (It was my favorite because it's located on the far back wall, perfect for an unseen nap). I even walked into potions and found a little note of all the questions that were to be asked during the class, and all of their answers.

Pansy laid her head in my lap, whining about a girl she was pining for, while I flipped through pages of an uninteresting book on potion ingredients. She sat up slowly, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. "It's the weekend, what are we doing here? Lets go for a walk." she urged, and I grabbed my bag and followed. We walked through hallways mindlessly, chatting about the most recent rumors.

There was a yell from down the hall as we turned a corner, and before either of us could look, a body came hurdling into mine. I fell to the ground, hard enough that the air was knocked from my lungs. I gasped desperately, tears rushing to my eyes at the sudden pain of hard stone on my back, and a massive body on top of me.

It pushed itself up onto its hands, hovering over me.

I looked Mattheo Riddle square in the eye, and I could see the color drain from his face.

"Well? Get off of her!" I heard Pansy shriek, and once he had moved, Pansy helped me off the ground. I looked up at her, smiling in thanks, before I met Mattheo Riddle's gaze again. He stared at me for a moment longer, opening his mouth to say something. He shut it again, and turned away. Zabini raced around the corner, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

"You beat her up again?"

The look Mattheo gave Blaise sent a chill down my spine.

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The next day, Pansy and I found a box of chocolates outside of my dorm.

"Someone has a secret admirer!" She chimed in a sing-song voice.

I blushed a little bit at the notion. It was nice to think, but I insisted it was left at the wrong door and we should leave it. After much convincing, Pansy folded.

"I'm sure it's meant for you. You're probably hurting someone's feelings," She sighed.

"Then they should have left a note."

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It was frigid outside, the wind nipping at my nose, and I pulled my scarf further over my face. The courtyard was empty, most everyone opting to hide away in the warmth of their common rooms, and I started to feel like a fool for daring to come outside. At least it was quiet. I collected my bag, sliding my books into their place when the crunch of snow behind me sent be jumping in surprise.

I whipped my head around and audibly gasped when I met dark brown eyes.

"Do you not like chocolate?"

The question took me off guard, and I obviously took too long to answer when Mattheo started talking again.

"It's fine if you don't. I didn't really know what you would have liked," Mattheo rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking anywhere but at me. He looked nervous. Was Mattheo Riddle nervous?

"Just… It was an…" he stumbled over his words, scratching at his palm. "Y'know… Merlin, will you just say something?" he snapped, tugging on his scarf.

I couldn't help but stare at him. He looked so.. small.

"You got me chocolate?"

"Did… you not get it? I left it outside of your door."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Mattheo Riddle had gotten me chocolates. Why? "I didn't think they were for me."

"Why wouldn't they have been?"

"I thought someone had just left them at the wrong door."

Mattheo looked appalled at the very notion. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep, frustrated breath. "Why would I have left chocolates outside of anyone else's door?"

"You didn't leave a note. I didn't know who they were for, or what they were for, or if they were poisoned!"

Mattheo groaned, mumbling something about Zabini lying when he said girls were clever, "Well they were for you! To… apologize! For breaking your nose, and then knocking you over, and what I was doing before just didn't seem like enough!"

My mouth felt dry, and I shook my head. "What you were doing before? You could have just said sorry!"

Mattheo sighed, "The.. the seats in class- I had detention for weeks because I knew you liked napping in history of magic, and you were struggling in potions- and.. Really I deserve a 'thank you'!"

"Well then, Thank you."

A blush crept up to Matheo's cheeks, though I'm sure it was just the cold getting to him.

"I'm sorry."

I smiled, reaching to grab my bag off of the bench. "I forgive you."

Mattheo grabbed the bag before I could, and I looked up at him in confusion as he slung it over his shoulder. 'I'll carry it for you," Is all he mumbled while pulling his scarf tighter around his red face.

[starry-bi-sky]

I saw a post a few months ago (and damn was it really months? In PLURAL?) that was a cracky dpxdc au where the LOS were making Damian clones but the clones kept getting snatched by ghost portals and dropped into Danny’s lap and Danny just goes “ok ig this is my life now” and takes care of each one until he has his own mini army of Damian Clones.

And I remembered it a few days ago, and now I've been thinking about it again. Because I love clone aus (see: clone danny au, the 'danny is thomas wayne' au) because it itches the part of my mind that loves exploring personhood and the exploration of identity and what it means to be clone.

(What do you do when nothing about you is unique? When your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, all the way down to your heart, all belong to someone else?)

(When it comes to nature vs nurture what of you came from your environment and your experiences, and what of you was already programmed into you from the DNA that made you?)

(What do you do to make it unique? What do you do to make you unique?)

And if I could remember who made that post I'd @ them right now because it was their original post that inspired this, but I'm just thinking of if the au only had One Singular Damian clone that fell into Danny's life.

(a read more because im apparently incapable of making posts that are less than 1k words...)

One Damian who knew he was a clone and knew that he was to either bring the original back to base or kill him to take his place, who was being trained the same way but kept getting compared to his original over and over again. Like an older sibling who you can never match up to. Who is still a child who craves adult affection and validation and praise, and can't get it because nothing about him is original.

One Damian who, at six years old, in a twist of fate is sucked through a swirling portal and lands in Amity Park, directly on top of, in front of, or in line of sight of one Daniel Fenton, half-ghost extraordinaire and local hero.

What happens next?

Well, for one, Danny recognizes him immediately. He would recognize the face of Damian Wayne anywhere because his best friend was ranting about him all week about Damian Wayne's environmental stuff he does.

And for two, he would recognize that the Damian Wayne in front of him was not Damian Wayne. Because Damian Wayne was a teenager. And the Damian Wayne in front of him is a child. Six years old.

Getting this not-Damian but also-Damian to go along with Danny is not, not an easy task. The tiny Damian is aggressive, regal, and at this point in time, six years old, barely understanding english. He also has a sword.

It takes all day and a google translator to get this Tiny Damian to finally agree to go home with Danny. It's a miracle. Seriously. A tried and true miracle. And its also only when Danny has to fight a ghost does he finally agree, saying something in arabic that Danny doesn't understand.

Danny flies them both home, carrying Tiny Damian like a koala. The ensuing conversation in his room is not any better. It is tiring, long, and exhausting. Tiny Damian is six years old, and every single thing he says when Danny asks where he came from is met with a poorly translated "that's classified".

Danny keeps an eye on the news. There are no reports of Damian Wayne going missing, in fact he's been rather public. Bruce Wayne is not one to lie about his children going missing, and Damian's secretive behavior and young age draws Danny to one conclusion: Damian is a clone.

He doesn't know why Damian Wayne is being cloned. Frankly he doesn't really wanna know, because whatever organization that did it doesn't seem too pure-of-heart if tiny-Damian's immediate attempt of murder when they first met is of any indication. But he's too busy taking care of his city, that he doesn't have time to deal with whatever shady business Tiny-Damian was produced from.

In the end though, he decides that this Tiny-Damian is not going back to whatever place he came from. Tiny Damian disagrees. It is a long, nebulous problem of Damian trying to run away, Danny catching him, and Danny pulling him back home.

In that time, Danny downloads a language app and starts learning Arabic so that they can talk to each other properly. Damian slowly, slowly, starts picking up English.

In that time, Danny also has to inform his friends and his sister about Damian. Tiny Damian is not a fan of this. That is another argument they have. Tiny Damian does not like Sam or Tucker for a long, long while. He only really "listens" to Danny, citing something in arabic that Danny still cannot understand, but has a repeated use of the word "lieazir". It's the only word that Danny can catch in a sentence immediately, because its what little Damian calls Danny.

Tiny Damian, in that front, is very interested in Danny's powers and in his parents work. He finds tubberware of ectoplasm in the fridge once while they're down in the kitchen and calls it something with the word lieazir in it. The other word is something that Danny later learns means water in arabic.

It makes him feel even more uneasy of whatever place little Damian came from.

It takes weeks for little Damian to finally give up on escaping, and then a few weeks more for him to almost entirely lose his spunk. Danny isn't sure what started it. It was as if he'd been flipped with an off-switch.

(Damian had been so confident that the League would go looking for him after his disappearance. He was wrong, and he is crushed. He is still a child, alone, in a country very big and very busy, where nobody understands what he's saying. He feels powerless, helpless.)

(The lazarus boy who calls himself Danyal is nice to him in a way the league has never been, and he's making an effort to learn Damian's language. But he leaves for hours at a time and Damian doesn't have much else to do but wait in this house for him to come back.)

(He tried leaving, many many times, but he doesn't understand the street signs, the roads, the people. He doesn't know where he is, and he feels scared in a way that he's not felt in the League. Danny finds him every single time, hours later when Damian is lost somewhere in Amity Park)

(And he never yells at him. Never. The first time this happens, Damian puffs himself up and prepares himself for this strange lazarus boy to yell at him. Damian feels like he's tripped on the last step of the stairs when Danyal doesn't yell at him.)

(He can tell he's frustrated by the tone of his voice, but when Danyal lays eyes on him he just looks relieved. He gets scolded on the flight home, but Damian doesn't understand any of it other than Danyal just sounds worried. Not angry. He gets a proper scolding once they get back, with Danyal typing into the google translator and playing it for Damian to hear.)

(This happens every single time until Damian finally agrees to stop running away.)

It's with Jazz's help that Danny finally realizes that Damian was depressed. It's with her help again that Danny tries helping with it. It's like trying to get a stray cat to trust him. And with everything else they've done, it takes a long time.

And it is so, so worth it when it all works out.

Tiny Damian doesn't really like Sam, or Tucker, but he likes Danny. And he finally starts calling him his name. His full name, but his name nonetheless. Danny doesn't bother correcting him. He's not looking a gift horse in the mouth. And it's endearing hearing Damian call him Danyal.

Damian in this time, also begins to take more initiative into learning English. And they teach each other words they know. Danny buys flash cards and writes the english alphabet on them, and then finds a book on arabic to teach himself and Damian. Sam and Tucker and Jazz start learning as well.

And then when Danny knows enough arabic and Damian knows enough english, and Damian trusts Danny, Damian tells him he's a clone. It's a quiet moment, late at night when Danny takes Damian up to the ops center to look at what stars they could see through the light pollution.

It'd be very easy for Danny to tell him, "I know. I could tell from the start.". He doesn't, it's not the time nor the place, and Danny's matured enough to know when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. He lets Damian, almost seven now, tell him that he's a clone of Damian Wayne. Lets him tell him why he was made, what his purpose was.

(Danny will need a minute later to process the fact that Damian Wayne originally came from some kind of... assassin league with an obsession with immortality. But he's focused on Damian.)

In the end, he puts an arm around Damian Wayne's clone and pulls him into his side. Thanks him for trusting him, it must've been hard to tell him, that he's brave for being able to. And if he wants to, they can find a way to get into contact with the Waynes and let Wayne know about him.

Damian hides his face in Danny's ribs and holds him tight, and tells him he doesn't want to. Danny leaves it at that.

Perhaps it would be more morally ethical to alert Damian Wayne that there was a clone of him running around, that his... uh, grandfather was making clones of him. Hell, Danny would have liked it. But little Damian has asked him not to say anything, and little Damian needs someone to rely on; someone he can trust.

And in the end, its not that hard of a decision to make. Danny knows little Damian more than he knows Damian Wayne, and while Danny likes to think he's a good person, he knows he's not a great one. Nor a perfect one. He cares more about someone he knows than someone he doesn't.

If Sam tries to argue with him about it, then Danny will just double down. If Damian doesn't want to tell Wayne about his existence, then it's not their place to say otherwise.

There's a lot more to talk about over Damian's cloning, like what he wants to do moving forward. But that's a long conversation not meant to be one taken late at night. Little Damian is falling asleep at his side, seemingly much more relaxed than he did before, and Danny wasn't gonna ruin that.

And later he's right, it is a long conversation, and a slow one. Talking with Jazz about it helps him figure out what to do moving forward, and their best bet is to let Damian figure out what he wants to do. So he sits Damian down at the dinner table the next morning and tells him before breakfast that he doesn't need to be Damian Wayne.

He doesn't need to learn all the same things Damian Wayne did. He doesn't need to do anything that Damian Wayne does. And little Damian is seven, and he's smart, but Danny still has to word it in a way that's not too complex for him to realize.

And in the end, what he says essentially boils down to "You are not Damian Wayne, you are just you. Don't be anyone else but you." and it'll take more time to drill that into his mind when all he's ever heard and learned from is that he was a copy of Damian Wayne, and he must act like Damian Wayne. But it'll happen.

It's a hard task when Danny's the only person Damian really trusts and he can't be by his side all the time, but he starts to warm up to the rest of Danny's family. The Fenton parents know of him, it's hard to keep a six year old child a secret for as long as Danny did without eventually having to come clean about it. His parents, much to Danny's relief, are very welcoming to Damian.

Damian figures out what he likes. Slowly. He's six years old, almost seven, and nobody expects of him to figure out who he is immediately. No child knows who they are right off the bat. So like any child he begins to explore. His english is better but still rough, and he struggles to read said language, but the Fenton family are happy to help even if Damian learns words that no normal seven year old does. (Many of them scientific.)

Damian realizes he likes stars, even if said interest is influenced by the association to Danny. Danny is all too delighted to tell him all about them, and in the process takes him flying out somewhere where the light pollution doesn't reach and showing him where constellations are.

Damian is six-almost-seven, so he doesn't find all of them, but Danny helps him figure out the easier ones. He tells him the scientific facts behind them, and then tells him about the mythos of the constellations. Later on they make their own constellations and make up stories about what they are.

(Damian adores Danny out of anyone else in the Fenton Family. The name Danyal turns to Dany. If anyone asks, Daniel Fenton is Damian's big brother.)

(He still refers to Jazz as Jazmine, and Danny's parents as Mrs. and Mr. Fenton.)

He realizes that, like his original, he loves animals, and he becomes vegetarian too. Sam is smug and Tucker is disappointed, but Damian doesn't super care about their opinions. ...he's getting better at liking them, even if he thinks Manson is a bit snobby and Foley is too much at times.

Its inevitable that the conversation of school comes into play. Damian can't stay home all day and he needs proper schooling. So after a long talk with Damian, they agree to send him to elementary school.

...And before they can do that the Fenton Family goes through with legally adopting Damian into the family as Damian Fenton. It takes convincing to get the administration to enroll him into the first grade without a proper schooling background.

(On his adoption form, Damian asks to change his birthday to the day he met Danny. Perhaps its not the most responsible thing to agree to, but Danny wants Damian to find himself. And its not like they know when his actual birthday was.)

And despite where he learned it from, Damian quite likes sparring. And he quite likes sparring with Danny in particular. Danny makes it fun, something that was foreign in his old league training, and Danny never hurts him. It's a lot like roughhousing.

Danny tells Damian how he got his powers, and how his parents don't know. Damian wakes up late at night to Danny sneaking out of the room (their house is not big enough to give Damian an individual room, and Danny agreed to share his) to go fight ghosts.

It's upsetting. Damian knows that Danny gets injured in those fights, even if Danny never comes home until after those injuries have been fixed up. He wants to help, and he voices it, and Danny shoots him down.

It becomes an argument, something that has happened less and less over the months.

Damian is experienced.

Damian is a child.

Damian knows how to fight.

Damian is mortal and fragile. He is a tiny, squishy human boy and the people Danny fights are ghosts who are near-indestructible. Who are intimately acquainted with death but also do not remember that humans are capable of it. Especially when they're fighting.

Damian says that Batman's rogues are capable of the same thing, that he lets his Robins help him fight.

And Danny says he is not Batman and he will not allow Damian to fight ghosts with him. Those ghosts will kill him and it will hurt. Dying hurts in a way that is terrifying and unimaginable and he will not risk Damian experiencing it. Not even Sam and Tucker help him in his fights most of the time, they are not able to. Not in the way Danny can.

Damian doesn't talk to him all day the following morning, but Danny does not budge on his decision. Damian tries to follow him out the next night, and Danny catches him and takes him back. Over, and over, and over again.

Until finally he gets intercepted by Skulker while taking Damian back home and is forced to fight him in front of Damian. (If it had been his choice, he would not have let Damian see it at all.)

It's not pretty. Skulker has new weapons, weapons that hurt, a lot. Danny is stuck between trying to take him down and trying to protect Damian from Skulker's attacks at him and from all the debris being created from the fight. It's with Damian's quick thinking and fast feet that finally helps Danny take Skulker out. But Danny is badly injured in the aftermath.

He doesn't have time to take Damian home and get medical attention. So he takes Damian with him to wherever he has his supplies stashed. He doesn't call Sam or Tucker or Jazz, and has to stitch himself up alone, with Damian watching.

Damian is quiet the entire time, he feels awful. Danny's not mad at him -- well, he is. But not because he had to protect him. He's just tired, and a little disappointed in him. Damian doesn't sneak out again. But he still feels helpless.

Danny tells him that that is why he doesn't want Damian to help him. Ghosts, his ghosts, are hard to fight. They are powerful, and his 'rogues' are mean. They will not care that Damian is a mortal child, if he picks a fight with them, they will fight back. And Damian is not immune to certain ghost powers like Danny is.

Damian is silent. He wants to help. But Danny is right: he is a squishy, mortal, living child. There is not much he can do to help Danny. Not without any gear to do it. Not without any powers to do it. He wants to help. He cannot.

Damian, almost-seven-years old, begins to cry. It is the last thing Danny was expecting, and for a moment he is at a loss of what to do.

Damian reaches for him -- in the Fenton family, physical affection is expected. Damian is getting used to it, but Danny is the only one he likes touching him -- and then stops, cringing away like he only just remembered that Danny was hurt.

He only cries harder.

Danny meets him halfway and pulls him into his arms, situating Damian between his knees from where he's sitting. Through his tears, Damian says he wants to help. He wants to help. He doesn't want Danny to get hurt anymore. He doesn't want Danny to fight ghosts alone anymore. He's scared that Danny will stop coming back.

Danny doesn't have anything to say to reassure him. Can't say anything to reassure him. It'll all just be lies. He's not going to stop fighting ghosts, he can't. He's not going to stop getting hurt, he can't. He's not going to bring Damian with him, he can't. He'd never be able to live with himself.

"I'll always come back." He says though, because that is something he can promise. Whether dead or alive, he'll come back.

When the tears finally stop, Damian doesn't say anything again. He sniffles, and presses his ear to Danny's chest, listening to the steady, slow heartbeat. If he puts his ear to his sternum and strains his ear, Damian would almost hear the low hum of Danny's ghost core, like a small dwarf sun.

"If you die, I'll drag you to the Lazarus pools myself." Damian mumbles eventually, his voice sleep-full. It's spoken in arabic, and Danny only understands half of it.

He laughs quietly, and smoothes his hand over Damian's hair. He hasn't had a haircut since he arrived, it's gotten long and there are curls beginning to form. "Okay."

Damian falls asleep shortly after, and with much consideration to his own injuries and Damian's sleeping form, Danny flies them back home.

It's hard to say, but not much changes in routine afterwards. Damian hovers close to Danny, more than usual. Danny still goes out at night, he still stitches himself up before going back, he still goes back home where Damian is waiting worriedly for him. Damian doesn't like falling asleep without knowing Danny is there.

Now the hard question is: when does little Damian finally meet the Waynes for the first time? There's plenty of ways to go about it, both easy and hard. Perhaps we go this way:

The Fenton family are visiting Maddie's sister in Arkansas. And Damian is dragging Danny around through the surrounding forest. It's his first time being in a forest this large since he moved in with the Fentons. Safe to say he is delighted by all of the nature, and he's dragging Danny along with him.

Danny likes the peace and quiet it gives him, he's found that he enjoys the rural area more than he likes the city. He's happy to let Damian point out every plant he recognizes, even if some of it is in arabic.

They walk around all day until Damian gets tired, and then at night when the sky is clear Danny and him go look at the stars. It's peaceful at first.

On the third day of their visit, Damian drags Danny out far from the house. It's slightly worrying, but Danny can always fly them back if it gets too late.

It's in the woods that Danny and Damian stray much too far from Alicia's house, and from there in the early evening that they run into Batman and Red Robin, both of them in rough 'just got out of a fight' shape.

Safe to say, it was the last thing any of them expected to run into. Damian and Danny had stopped at a small crik to rest, and the two vigilantes came through the tree line on the other side.

It was... quite the staring contest.

Damian, now seven years old at this point, forgot to mention that the Waynes were vigilantes when he told Danny he was a clone. But he was told that Batman was his original's father.

Before anyone can say anything, little Damian wraps his arms tight around Danny's middle and stares Batman and Red Robin down. His sharp edges have softened around the Fentons. But he makes no exceptions to anyone else outside of Danny's immediate social circle.

Danny's arm automatically goes around Damian's shoulders, and he looks between both Red and Batman uneasily. If they were here then it meant that there was something unsafe nearby. Danny did not fight the living, and he wasn't going to put Damian in the crosshairs of anything that does.

"Should... should we leave?" He asks, brows knotted together with a frown. He stands. "Is there something going on nearby?"

Batman suddenly grunts, and looks at him. "It's been handled." He says, and his voice is gruffer than Danny imagined it. Lower. Danny is not all that comfortable with that answer.

"Do you guys live nearby?" Red Robin asks, and Danny can't help but notice that he keeps looking at Damian. Warily. In fact, so is Batman.

He pushes Damian behind him slightly, and Damian's grip tightens on him. "Not... exactly." He says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "My family's visiting my Aunt and my brother wanted to explore since it's his first time out of the city, I guess we wandered too far away if we're running into you."

There's no visible indication of whether or not both Bats reacted to him calling Damian his brother. But he can all but feel little Damian preen at the title, it makes Danny's mouth twitch into a smile as his hand finds Damian's hair.

"Would we be able to go back with you?" Red Robin asks, startling both Danny and seemingly Batman, who looks at him instantly.

"Red Robin." He growls out, and Red Robin throws Batman a look of annoyance.

"We are lost, B. They jammed the comms and our trackers back there and it hasn't come back on yet, his aunt may have the signal we need to let the others know where we are."

They end up walking back with Danny and Damian. It's silent, and awkward, and Danny has Damian walking on his opposite side so he's not near the vigilantes. Red Robin is fiddling with a phone but still can't get a signal.

Batman is silently brooding.

Red eventually gives up and shoves the phone into a pocket on his belt, then turns to make conversation with Danny. "I never thanked you for letting us walk with you. Thanks, by the way."

Danny blinks at him, and smiles awkwardly. "No problem, man," he says, "I'm uh, Danny." He glances down at Damian, who looks up at him with big green eyes, and Damian nods quietly.

He looks back at Red Robin, and says, "This is my little brother, Damian." And Damian peers over his side and glares at Red Robin -- and Batman, who looks over when Danny says his name.

"He looks like Damian Wayne," Red Robin notes, head tilting like he's inspecting him.

Danny huffs dryly, "We get that a lot."

Red Robin smiles at him, its a tilted thing. It makes Danny uneasy. "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't," Danny says bluntly, and he really doesn't want to tell them where he's from. Not when Red Robin was acting strange, but they're vigilantes and notorious for their detective skills. If he's suspicious, they'll look into him. "But I'm from Amity Park."

Damian in that moment, peers around Danny again and scowls at Red Robin. Full on scowls at him, as if it were the first months when he met Danny. "You're being nosy." He sneers, his hand squeezing Danny's.

"Damian," Danny hisses, suppressing a smile. Damian jumps like he's been startled, and looks up at him with big green eyes. "He's just being curious."

(He lets his smile slip through briefly, just to let Damian know he's not that upset. A tension leaves his little brother's shoulders.)

"But he is." Damian continues, a whine leaking into his voice. Danny jabs him in the ribs with his fingers, and Damian jumps, swatting away his hand with a squeak.

"Would you rather have us walk in dead silence, Dames?" He goes for Damian's ribs again, a grin stretching across his face as Damian jumps back again and swats his hand. "Hm? Hm? We could just walk in awkward silence for the entire trip back, I know you just love awkward silence, little brother."

(It's funny, saying little brother always sounds so uncomfortable when he reads it in books and watches it on tv. But Jazz always makes it sound so natural when she does it, and Danny finds that he sounds the same too.)

Damian continues to bat away his hands, but it's not enough to prevent him from squealing with laughter when Danny gets a good hold on him and starts tickling him. Danny's grin only gets bigger, and he swoops Damian up with his arm and holds him like a football.

"Is that it? Huh? Me, you, and two vigilantes walking back to Aunt Alicia's cabin in complete, utter silence." He says, "You won't get to hear any of my amazing jokes."

Damian's wriggling, trying to pound on Danny's ribs, he's giggling uncontrollably. It's the best sound Danny's ever heard. "Your jokes are awful! Laeazir! Put me down!" He cries, grinning from ear to ear.

(From the side, both Red Robin and Batman tense up.)

Danny chuckles, and through a short series of flips, has Damian sitting on his shoulders. "I will not. You're sitting up in air jail for insulting my hilarious jokes."

Damian tugs on his hair in revenge, harrumphing at him but making no move to get down. Danny squeezes his ankles playfully, and looks back to Batman and Red Robin.

Both vigilantes look at him like he's grown a second head.

....Red Robin looks at him like he's grown a second head. Batman just stares, and then looks away. Danny tilts his head at them, his smile waning. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost or something."

(Damian tugs on his hair again. A silent boo at him.)

Red Robin jerks, "Oh, sorry." He says, not sounding all that sorry. "It's just... I've lost count to how many times I've saved Damian Wayne from the occasional kidnapping and he's always been very... serious. It's just weird seeing a kid that looks like him be... not serious."

From his shoulders he feels Damian hide his smile in his hair, that's another thing they can put on their "Things That Damian Does That Damian Wayne Does Not" list. It started as a joke, but it's been surprisingly helpful for when Damian is questioning himself.

However, Danny is not a fan of the comparison, and he smiles widely, perhaps a tad passive-aggressive. "It's a good thing that my Damian isn't Damian Wayne then." He says, giving him the slight stink eye.

Red Robin picks up on it quickly, and nods.

The rest of the way is spent in idle conversation. It's oddly casual, even if most of the conversation is Danny talking about himself. It's annoying, but he unfortunately understands the reason. Secret identities and all that.

Damian interjects a few times, some parts to talk to Danny, and other parts to throw shade at Batman and Red Robin. Mostly Red Robin, who seems begrudgingly used to it.

("I'm surprised you haven't asked me much about myself." Red Robin says at one point into the conversation. Over his shoulder Batman glares at Red Robin. "A lot of civilians do when they're able."

Danny stares at him. "You're a vigilante." He says, frowning, "Isn't it superhero 101 that you don't ask superheroes for their secret identity?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Huh. Well, no. I'm not gonna ask you about yourself. I quite like talking all about me.")

When they finally reach the cabin, it's late into the night and Danny has moved Damian from his shoulders to his front in a koala-like carry. Damian's fast asleep with his head on Danny's shoulder.

His family was also frantically searching for him, and Jazz sees him first. She immediately turns behind her and yells "I FOUND HIM!". And then sprints over to him, his parents thundering not too far behind.

Both vigilantes are subsequently ignored as Jazz dotes over him and Danny, and soon enough so is his mom and dad. They're all talking all at once, asking him where he was, they were worried sick, did he know how late it was.

He shushes all of them, loudly. And whispers that Damian is sleeping. His family then immediately quiet themselves, and go back to yelling at him in a more appropriate manner.

"Me and Damian walked too far by accident." Danny finally says when he can get a word in, and then he jabs his thumb in Red Robin and Batman's direction. "We also found two superheroes who need assistance."

The speed of which his family all snap their heads over to the direction he's pointing is almost comical. As is all of their expressions of shock.

His mother is the first to regain her senses, and she sighs at him. She sighs! "Only you, Danny." She says, and Jazz snorts into her arm.

[slyandthefamilybook]

so this is something that's been on my mind for a while. I wish I could make a big magnum opus post on it but I don't have the energy

I've noticed in my travels that antisemitism seems to be one of the only forms of bigotry that's not self-evidently wrong. People may think they think it is, but I don't think they do. Every time antisemitism comes up as a topic, I see Jews sharing posts with twin explanations: one on why something is antisemitic, and one on why that's a bad thing

I've seen this a lot, and have fallen into it myself, although recently I've been trying to stop. On a post about Bibi changing his last name to "sound more indigenous": "Imagine if someone said this about Black people". On a post blaming Jews for what Israel does: "Imagine if someone said this about Chinese people". On a post accusing Jews of owning too many industries: "Imagine if someone said this about Asian people".

There was a post that went around claiming the IDF harvested the organs of Palestinians with very little evidence. (There are some great posts debunking that but that's not what this post is about.) I remember looking through the comments and one of them stuck out to me. I can't remember the wording exactly, but it went something like: "Israel heard about blood libel and thought why don't we just do that?". Ignoring the fact that blood libel is about the accuser, not the accused, this comment played over and over in my head. I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Here was a person admitting that the thing they were saying has a strong resemblance to blood libel, but saying it anyway. It struck me that the underlying thought here was "it's not blood libel if it's true".

Once I realized that, I was stunned. I suddenly heard right-wingers in my head saying "it's not racist, it's just a fact that on average Black people have a lower I.Q.". And suddenly everything clicked into place. I know it might seem like an elementary idea, but it genuinely had never occurred to me

In the eyes of bigots, racism protects power. Antisemitism protects truth.

I've often said that all conspiracy theories eventually lead back to the Jews, and this newfound realization fit in nicely. A popular neo-Nazi slogan I've seen recently is "the goyim know". This idea that Jews have something to hide has saturated the political spectrum

Antisemitism is itself a conspiracy theory.

I realize that makes it sound like I don't think antisemitism is real. That's not what I'm saying, it absolutely is. But the way people talk about it is unlike how they talk about any other form of racism. The Jews are a shadowy cabal, who meet in secret to deplatform people who dare speak out against them. This is something we see on the right and the left, from Kanye accusing the Jews of destroying his career, to leftists accusing the "Zionists" of controlling social media.

Spouting antisemitism now becomes a moral good, a political necessity. It's the most important thing in the fight for truth

I understood then, why people on the left are so comfortable calling out accusations of antisemitism as "frivolous", "unserious", "over-used". How they think people are using antisemitism to silence them. You can't just say something is antisemitic and walk away. It won't stick. You also have to sit there on your computer for the next 2 hours, looking up sources to debunk their claims. You have to appeal to the truth. With any other form of bigotry, it's understood by leftists that whatever the facts may be, they don't excuse racism. The number of Black Americans who commit crimes doesn't justify saying Black people are all criminals. The number of First Nations people who own casinos doesn't justify playing off that stereotype. But when it comes to the Jews, it's open season. You can say anything you like about the Jews, as long as you think it's true. Being told that it's antisemitic isn't enough.

This is a great example of just that. "Yes it's antisemitic, but it's also true." The accusation of antisemitism becomes an accusation against the truth. So when it comes to people who really believe in what they're saying, it all just bounces off. This is why people never seem to learn. They hop from conspiracy theory to conspiracy theory. As long as someone assures them it's all true, the bigotry doesn't really factor. They apologize not when confronted with their own racism, but when confronted with the facts.

In this way, antisemitism has become baked into society, especially Christian societies. Because why wouldn't it? Yes, the Jew is greedy, yes the Jew is sneaky, yes the Jew is bloodthirsty. But the Jew is above all a liar. They lie about their names, their culture, their history, their victories, their defeats

I wish I knew how to end this post. Some sort of call to action, some idea of how to fix this going forward. But I have no idea. I suspect if I did, we might not all be quite where we are right now

[drdemonprince]

I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.

Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.

I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[justwinginglife]

Can I please request Soshiro using Weapon 10 for the first time in front of his secret girlfriend (that is also in the Defense Force) and the kaiju read his thought and announces the secret to everyone to hear?

Wingman

Soshiro was stuck in place. Like actually, physically rooted to the ground.

He had been ready for a fight, ready to use his secret weapon, ready to clean up the battlefield in a few minutes flat and be home at a decent enough time to cook you dinner.

But 10 was not having it.

The second that Soshiro had synced with him, all his little secrets went flooding into 10's consciousness. Including the one where he was dating you, which was a secret to the entire Defense Force, and the one where he wanted to propose to you, which was a secret to you.

Soshiro had desperately wanted to show off in front of you, show you what he was capable of in this suit, show you just how much he could protect you, but 10 didn't give a flying fuck what Soshiro wanted.

10 wanted to tell everyone that you belonged to Soshiro. 10 wanted Soshiro to propose to you now, in the middle of a battlefield. And the fact that Soshiro kept the engagement ring on him always in case he found the perfect moment to propose did not help the matter. 10 did not care about the perfect moment, 10 was all about the now.

And it didn't help that when Soshiro had first put on the suit, you had complimented how attractive he looked. 10 took full credit for that compliment and he immediately began liking you. If he could not do this one thing for you, if he could not get Soshiro to steel his nerves and ask you the damn question already, he would have failed you. He would have no honor as a Kaiju.

So there you were, in the middle of a fight, guns blazing, organs flying, and suddenly you noticed Soshiro dropping to his knees, planting them firmly on the bloodied ground. You run over to him, concerned that he might have injured himself.

"Sosh- Vice Captain! Are you... are you okay??"

His face is pained and he's gritting his teeth but you can't find a single injury on him.

"What's wrong, what's going on?"

His head snaps up to you, the movement sudden and seemingly against his will. He bites his lip so much it bleeds and you take a sleeve and start to dab at it worriedly.

"This... this is not... how I wanted... to do this." The words come out strained as his trembling arm reaches for his pocket. He yanks his arm back with his other hand but it's to no avail.

"Do what?" You're starting to get more anxious, wondering why your boyfriend is acting so strange, especially in the most dangerous of places.

You shoot another kaiju away from him as he pulls something out of his pocket.

"I... fuck... fuck, fine. I know, I know, shut up, I'm getting to it. Baby, I love you. This is absolutely not how I wanted to do this, I wanted to be significantly more romantic, but this fuckhead won't let me leave this spot until I do this. So please, love of my life, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me? Feel free to say no so that I can propose again in a better place at a better time."

Your eyes widen as he flicks open a ring box and gazes up at you, waiting for your answer.

Then you start laughing. "I think this was the most perfect proposal ever, I'll definitely never forget it now."

He blushes but he lets you continue.

"Yes, baby, I will marry you. There's no doubt about that, there was never any doubt about that. I'll marry the hell out of you. Now please, 10, will you let my fiancee up so I can kiss him?"

You shoot another kaiju out of the way as 10 allows Soshiro to pull himself to his feet.

Finally in control of his own limbs, he pulls you to him, sliding the ring on your finger before devouring your lips in a passionate kiss.

All at once, your comms start to blow up with the voices of your fellow officers ringing loudly in your ears; the thing you hear the most is, "WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? DID YALL JUST GET ENGAGED IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING BATTLE?"

Soshiro face palms.

"I'm gonna kill 10."

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (II)

2nd instalment (I - II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

Though this soulmate thing had caused Sirius a bit of grief so far, he was feeling rather chuffed about it today. He was currently sitting with you in the library; you were currently doing research for your Herbology project, and he was pretending to work on his Transfiguration essay.

It was an odd sight, he was sure; Sirius Black found in the library working quietly without being involved in some sort of mischief. It was no secret he didn’t exactly take his school work seriously, but that was only because he didn’t have to; classes came easily to him and getting good grades didn’t require any extra work on his part.

But…

But, he had a pretty little thing sitting across from him, that was certifiably his, and she was spending time in the library, which meant he was, too. 

It was a precarious arrangement, but Sirius found he didn’t much mind when the unpleasantness wasn’t around. 

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness was insistent on following him around.

“Junior.” He growled lowly as a figure sidled up behind you and cast a shadow over your shared table.

“Black.” Barty sneered before turning a saccharine smile in your direction. “Hello, sweet darling angel.” He cooed, earning him a scoff from Sirius.

“Hello, Barty… what are you doing here?”

Barty laughed as if you’d made a particularly funny joke. “I’m here to spend time with my best girl, of course!” 

“Like hell you are!” Sirius barked, earning him indignant shushes from the other students around him.

“Barty… you agreed to this.” You tried placating.

“Agreed to share you with Black?” Barty squawked. “I’d sooner start wearing red and gold unironically.”

“Junior, this schedule was your idea. I get the library study time on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. You get the library study time on Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. It’s Tuesday; get lost.” Sirius lamented.

“But I don’t want to!” Barty pouted particularly petulantly, even stomping his foot for good measure. 

“Well, you can take it up with management.” Sirius taunted.

“You just sodding said yourself that this was my plan; I am the management!” Barty countered. 

Sirius mustered his most Noble and Ancient menacing glare from countless Black ancestors. The Slytherin boy had no problem reciprocating it, and it wasn’t until you intervened that the boys broke the silent war being waged between them.

“Barty, I…I think you should go see what Pandora is up to? And…maybe we can sit together at dinner?” You offered hopefully. Sirius was simultaneously grateful you were trying to rid them of the unpleasantness and also terribly jealous that Barty was going to share a meal with you.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll go get Pandora to help me organize a romantic meal for us tonight.” Barty beamed excitedly.

“Please. How romantic can a meal in the Great Hall be?” Sirius sneered, albeit slightly worried that Barty may in fact succeed.

“You mind your fuckin’ business, Black. Salazar’s balls you’re a pest.” 

“I’m the pest!?” Sirius exclaimed, but you were quick to place a conciliatory hand on Barty’s forearm.

“Please, Barty?”

Barty looked down at you with a pained expression that Sirius could understand all too well.

You were impossible to say no to.

Barty looked between you and Sirius a few times before groaning exasperatedly. 

“Fine.” He relented, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and stalking off.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief as you turned back towards the table with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh!” Sirius heard, causing him to let his head fall with a thump to the table before him. “I almost forgot.”

And Sirius lifted his head from the table to watch as Barty pulled at the collar of your uniform shirt to expose part of your neck and began sucking a bruise into your skin.

Sirius spit out a shocked guffaw as he watched Barty pull back, admire his work, press a chaste kiss to it and replace your collar to its proper place before leaving the library for good. 

“What…” Sirius started as he turned his attention from the door he’d been keeping an eye on to ensure that menace didn’t return to continue tormenting him back to you, just as you were embarrassedly rubbing at your neck. “...in the buggering fuck was that?”

“That’s just Barty.” You replied timidly. 

Sirius let out another scoff, eyes still glued to your neck. “Are you okay?”

You chuckled at that and offered Sirius a smile that was equal parts apologetic and equal parts teasing. “I’m pretty sure that’s his way of showing…affection? Or possibly marking his territory; he’s done it before when Diggory spent a, quote, ‘unreasonable amount of time complimenting my potion’.” 

Sirius relaxed a little at that. He supposed if you were comfortable with it, he wouldn’t push it. And though Sirius clearly had better impulse control than your other soulmate, he couldn’t deny how much he was tempted to do the same.

“Alright then.” Sirius relented, allowing you to return to your research.

“I hope you know you’ve just opened up the need to schedule meals now though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You groaned, plopping your head down into your textbook.