#web guide controller

[midnightwind]

the gay little desire to assign all my OCs' Lightbringer magic because I literally will never get over the light spectrum as a magic system I'm sorry it's so cool-

[justnshalom]

Demystifying GitHub Pages: A Beginner's Guide

Demystifying GitHub Pages: A Beginner’s Guide GitHub Pages is a powerful tool for hosting your website, allowing you to easily publish and showcase your web projects. If you’re new to GitHub Pages, you might be wondering what it is and how to leverage its capabilities. In this beginner’s guide, we will explore GitHub Pages and provide you with step-by-step instructions on how to get started. What…

[fear-is-truth]

† 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — charlie mayhew x f!reader. | mdni

tags: mature content・mentions of religion・angst・flashbacks of smut・fem!reader・self-inflicted flagellation・blood・not proofread / wc: 1158

⟡ a/n: sorry if there are any grammatical errors or mistakes. english is not my first language

father charlie mayhew sat on the edge of his narrow bed, the white walls of his private chamber closing in around him. the small space was sparse, almost ascetic, with only a few religious artifacts cluttering the windowsill. the emptiness mirrored the discipline he tried to embody—from the polished metal sink in the corner to the stiff, neatly made bed beneath him. everything in his life was governed by order, by control—everything except you.

he glanced toward the tiny window where rain trickled down the glass, his chest tightening with a dull throb. leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands, fingers pressing into his temples as if he could will you away like a migraine.

but you were always there.

your fingers clawed at the buttons on his collar, desperate and needy—tugging him closer as he struggled to cling to any vestige of control he possessed. plushy lips brushed the edge of his neck, and he could hear the slight tremor in your breathing. “charlie,” you pleaded. not “father” this time. you had stripped him of that sacred title, and reduced him to a man in your arms—a sinner. your body pressed against him, warmth seeped through the fabric of his robes into his bones, hands traveling down the line of his chest, and it was at that point when he realised… he didn’t give a damn about sin or salvation.

rising to his feet, he stripped off his cassock, letting it slip past his shoulders before pooling on the floor. cool air bit against his skin, the bruises and scars on his back crisscrossed the pale skin in a web of guilt. charlie didn’t dare look in the mirror, couldn’t stand to see the evidence of his weakness. instead he knelt down and stared at the cat o’ nine tails resting on the bed before him, its nine strands splayed like serpents awaiting to strike. the handle was a rough wooden club, and as he gripped it tightly, his fingers brushed the frayed ends of the ropes, already darkened with blood and sweat from last night’s penance. he rearranged the nine strands carefully, spreading them out methodically before each lash.

he began to ease himself inside you, the tightness and warmth making him groan into the crook of your neck. he paused briefly, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders, before fully sheathing himself, dragging out a broken moan from your lips. then he curled an arm around your waist, slowly withdrawing his hips, before thrusting inside you again.

he slammed the whip across his back, the sharp crack echoing through the small room. the nine strands bit into his skin like the nails that had once driven into his saviour’s flesh. pain was instantaneous, cutting through the haze of memory. he sucked in a breath as the second strike followed, then a third.

the heat of your skin burned under his fingertips, the sheets had tangled around your legs in a twisted mess of linen and heat, as you arched beneath him, crying out his name—charlie—over and over, like a prayer. his hand tightened on your waist, guiding your hips against his, guilt warring with the heady pleasure that coursed through him with every deep thrust. he pressed you into the mattress, lips tracing the column of your throat as your thighs clenched around his waist.

charlie’s grip faltered, his body hunching forward as he gasped for air. he could feel blood dripping down his back, onto the floor, but he didn’t care. he deserved this. he needed this.

the punishment was supposed to cleanse him. it was supposed to scourge away the sin. (it never worked, not really.)

he laid the whip down, trembling as he reached out to rearrange the strands, spreading them evenly across the bed before lifting it again. his hands shook as he braced himself for the next blow, muscles tensing as if to ward off the pain he knew was coming.

“don’t stop,” you begged, voice cracking as his body moved against yours, the sudden clench of your walls leaving him dizzy. the sheets were a tangled mess, your hands clutching at them. but it hadn’t been the sheets you clung to in the end—it had been him.

with a swift motion, he brought the whip down again. the impact sent a shockwave of agony through his body, his knees buckling slightly under the force. a guttural sob tore through his chest. fresh welts overlapped the scars from the previous nights, the pain melding together into one throbbing, pulsing reminder of his weakness.

(charlie mayhew was a weak, pathetic man.)

“you’re so beautiful,” you murmured as your nails scraped along his back, leaving faint red marks in their wake. his hips rutted into yours with a rhythm that had made him forget who he was. hand slid beneath the sheets, fingers digging into your flesh before he buried himself deep inside you. you let out a strangled moan, biting down on your lip as your eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, and it took everything in him not to cry out in response, to keep his own sinful need locked behind his clenched teeth.

the pain was nearly unbearable now, his skin raw and bleeding from the repeated lashes. but still, he struck again, his eyes squeezing shut against the images of you.

(the memory of you writhing beneath him, the sheets twisted around your bodies as his hips rolled into yours, was burned into his soul.)

agony built to a crescendo, the sharp sting of the rope tearing at his flesh, but it still wasn’t enough. it was never enough. chest heaving, he let the whip fall from his hands and clutched the edge of the bed for support. his back was a mess of blood, bruises and torn skin, but the pain in his back was a dull throb compared to the ache in his chest.

you had told him, in the quiet of your shared sin, that you loved him. he hadn’t responded. he couldn’t. because if he had said it back, it would have made everything worse. he couldn’t love you—not the way you wanted him to. not the way he already did.

charlie ran a hand through his hair, slick with sweat, staring blankly at the white walls that had seen too many nights like this one.

he didn’t know how many more nights like this he could endure. how many more times he could sit on the edge of his bed, flogging himself for the pleasure he found in your arms. how many more lashes it would take to absolve him of the sin of loving you.

you were worth every drop of blood, every sting of the rope. you were his temptation, his punishment, and his salvation all at once. he would willingly suffer for you, again and again.

masterlist

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[dropoutdeveloper]

Introduction to JavaScript for Beginners: Unlock the Power of Web Development 2023

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on JavaScript for beginners. In this article, we will delve deep into the world of JavaScript, one of the most versatile and widely-used programming languages on the web. Whether you’re an aspiring web developer or simply curious about the fascinating realm of coding, we’ve got you covered. Let’s embark on this exciting journey and unlock the potential of…

[numbpill]

========================================================

[tutorial: build your own neocities/nekoweb page]

========================================================

a beginner's guide for making your very own home on the indie web—retro, personal, weird, and 100% yours.

this ain’t an average wix, squarespace, or tiktok aesthetic.

we’re talking full html/css with soul and attitude.

[ prerequisites ]

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

> an idea

> basic text editor (vscode, notepad++, or even notepad)

> account on https://neocities.org or https://nekoweb.org

> some gifs or tiles you love (dig deep or make your own)

> optional: image host or gif repo (or self-host everything)

[ feeling overwhelmed? read this. ]

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

you do *not* need to know everything.

html is not a mountain. it's a garden.

you plant one tag. then another. then a style. then a button.

you can build your site piece by piece.

and every piece is a portal to somewhere personal.

you are allowed to make broken pages.

you are allowed to use templates.

you are allowed to start over as many times as you want.

this is *your* world. you control the weird.

[ step 1: create an account ]

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

> neocities: https://neocities.org

> nekoweb: https://nekoweb.org

register a name, log in, and enter your file manager.

this is where you upload your files and see your site live.

[ step 2: your first file - index.html ]

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

make a new file: `index.html`

basic starter:

<html>

<head>

<title>my weird little corner</title>

<link rel="stylesheet" href="style.css">

</head>

<body>

<h1>welcome to the void</h1>

<p>this is my page. it’s strange. like me.</p>

<img src="mygif.gif">

</body>

</html>

> upload to the dashboard

> boom. you’re live at

https://yoursite.neocities.org

or https://nekoweb.org/u/yoursite

[ step 3: add a style sheet - style.css ]

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

create a file called `style.css` and upload it.

here’s some nostalgic magic:

body {

background: url('tile.gif');

color: lime;

font-family: "Courier New", monospace;

text-shadow: 1px 1px 0 black;

}

img {

image-rendering: pixelated;

}

marquee {

font-size: 20px;

color: magenta;

}

link it in your html and the vibes activate.

[ step 4: decorate it like a haunted usb ]

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

> use <marquee> for chaos scrolls

> embed gifs from https://gifcities.org/

> steal buttons from https://cyber.dabamos.de/88x31/

> set up a guestbook at https://www.smartgb.com/

> loop audio with <audio autoplay loop>

> add fake errors, 90s web lore, random link lists

[ step 5: resources, themes, and comfort ]

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

> templates & layouts: https://numbpilled-themes.tumblr.com

> glitchy gifs & buttons: https://glitchcat.neocities.org/resources

> layout builder: https://sadgrl.online/projects/layout-builder/

> free tiled backgrounds: https://backgrounds.neocities.org/

> beginner html intro: https://www.w3schools.com/html/

> pixel fonts & cyber assets: https://fontstruct.com/

remember:

you don't need to know js. you don't need to be a coder.

you just need a mood, a direction, a dream.

the html will follow.

[ bonus concept: shrine pages ]

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

> a page just for one character you love

> a room to house digital fragments of your identity

> embed quotes, music, images like altars

> call it shrine.html and link it from your homepage

[ closing mantra ]

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

you are not here to be optimized.

you are not a brand.

you are a ghost inside the machine,

carving your initials into the silicon void.

welcome to Your website.

========================================================

[naileadevoras]

* taps mic * is this thing on ? hi pookies ! it's the week before christmas & today , i'm presenting to you all a list of different occupations for your muses . i've categorized them based on alphabetical order for a neater look & it'll be easier for you all to read / browse through . i hope you find this masterlist helpful !

a like + reblog would be greatly appreciated . happy holidays !

🎱 𝑨 - 𝑯 .

accountant

activist

actor / actress

aesthetician

animator

apartment flipper

art critique

artist

author

babysitter

baker

bank teller

barista

bartender

bellhop

bike messenger

body builder

body guard

book keeper

bookstore owner

bouncer

cake decorator

camp counselor

cars salesman

casino manager

casting director

chef

civic planner

comedian

computer engineer

concert promoter

construction worker

dentist

dermatologist

dietitian

doctor

disk jockey

diver

driver [ uber , lyft , private ]

emergency medical technician

entrepreneur

etsy shop owner

fast food employee

figure skater

firefighter

financial analyst

fisherman

florist

food deliverer [ postmates , uber eats , etc ]

food critic

former child star

former miss universe

funeral director

game developer

guidance counselor

hair dresser

hair stylist

high school teacher

🎱 𝑰 - 𝑸 .

influencer

interior decorator

investor

janitor

journalist

judge

kindergarten teacher

lab assistant [ biology / chemistry lab ]

lifeguard

line cook

maid

make up artist

manager

marine biologist

marriage / family therapist

massage therapist

matchmaker

mechanical engineer

mobile app developer

mortician

motorcycle mechanic

nail technician

nurse practitioner

nursing professor

obstetrician

pageant queen

physiotherapist

piercer

pilot for commercial airlines

plastic surgeon

police officer

personal stylist

private attorney

private chef

professional athlete [ football , basketball , soccer ]

professional boxer

professional chess player

professional esports player

professional mermaid

professional photographer

professor

programmer

public relations

quality control inspector

🎱 𝑹 - 𝒁 .

real estate agent

receptionist

relationship counselor

respiratory therapist

retail employee

sales person

set designer / illustrator

singer

small business owner

socialite

social media curator

social media intern

song - writer

sports agent

stunt double

tattoo artist

teacher's assistant

tour guide

tour manager

translator

travel writer [ journalist ]

twitch streamer

ultrasound technologist

veterinarian / vet assistant

waiter / waitress

web art director

yoga instructor

zoologist

[dragoneyelashart]

stressed out

summary: you’re stressed about tests and billie helps you!

authors note: kinda done w testing season

fluff

the weight of the week had been suffocating. eight tests, back-to-back, and next week was already threatening to pile on even more. stress had settled deep into your bones, making it impossible to think of anything else. billie was busy in the studio as usual, her music always a comforting escape, but tonight, you opted against joining her. there was simply too much work to do.

papers were scattered across the floor in front of the bed, while others were stacked in disarray on the desk, creating a chaotic web of notes, textbooks, and scribbled reminders. over 500 terms to memorize, a mountain of math problems to conquer, and a paper that felt like it would never end. you ran your fingers through your hair in frustration, trying to recall the last part of a definition. 

“the hypothalamus is in the brain that produces hormones that control hunger, mood, body temperature, and… what’s the last one?” you muttered, your voice shaky. your eyes flicked to the notes in front of you, your mind frantically searching for the missing piece. “heart temperature. that’s it,” you sighed, flipping over your flashcard with a mix of relief and dread. 

it was then that the sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the room. your heart skipped a beat. billie’s eyebrow raised in confusion, and you could already hear her footsteps hurrying toward you. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as she stepped into the room, her eyes widening at the sight of the mess—the scattered papers and the shards of glass scattered across the floor, glittering under the soft light.

your trembling lip betrayed you before you could hide it. tears welled in your eyes, and you wiped at them furiously, trying to push the wave of emotion away. but the tears kept coming.

billie’s expression softened instantly, her concern clear. “hey, hey, my love. it’s okay, i’m here,” she murmured, her arms wrapping around you. the warmth of her embrace offered a fleeting sense of comfort, but the tears didn’t stop. you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“i’m sorry, billie,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll clean it up. just give me a sec.”

before you could even move, billie pulled you back into her arms, her grip firm, refusing to let you go. “don’t worry about that, baby,” she said gently. “you need a break, okay? just come here.” 

with a reassuring smile, she guided you to the bed, switching on the tv to your favorite show. she lay beside you for a moment, her presence grounding you. her touch, soft and soothing, calmed your racing thoughts for just a moment. but the weight of the week was still heavy on your mind, the endless tests and the mountain of content you had to memorize.

billie didn’t leave you alone for long. she soon returned, a broom in one hand, and in the other, a water bottle and a cinnamon roll her mom had sent earlier that day. she placed them gently on the bed and kissed your forehead, her soft lips offering a quiet comfort. 

you smiled weakly, grateful for the gesture, but the stress still lingered like a fog in your mind, your thoughts spiraling back to the mountain of work waiting for you. billie, ever attentive, noticed the tension in your shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.

“what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” she asked, her voice low and soft. 

you looked away from the tv, giving her a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “just thinking,” you whispered.

billie didn’t push. instead, she suggested, “would it help if you spoke it out loud? you can talk to me, baby. i might not know much, but i’ll listen.”

you couldn’t help but giggle at her hopeful tone, the small burst of laughter feeling like a tiny release. nodding, you scooted closer to her, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you, her fingers gently combing through your hair. 

“okay,” she said, her voice a soft hum against your ear. “what class first, pretty girl?”

you let out a breath, feeling the tension start to ebb away as her hands moved soothingly down your back. “psychology,” you replied quietly, your voice a bit steadier.

and with that, you started to talk—rambling through the terms, correcting yourself as you went, but more importantly, feeling the weight of your anxiety start to lift with each word. billie’s encouragement, her kisses on your forehead and the soft way she praised you for getting through each term, made the flood of information feel less overwhelming. the frantic energy that had consumed you earlier slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm as you moved from class to class.

“take your time, baby,” billie reassured you after each term, her voice a steady anchor. the more you spoke, the clearer everything became. it wasn’t as hard as it seemed when you were on your own, surrounded by the chaos. with billie by your side, it didn’t feel so insurmountable.

finally, you moved into the last subject, and your body relaxed into billie’s arms. she kissed your forehead again, this time with a softness that spoke of comfort and care. “rest, sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “your work isn’t going anywhere. i promise.”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @eloiseluvsbillie | send me an ask if you want to be added or removed from my taglist!

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: annual energies and relationship milestones

my best friend is newly engaged, as i said recently, which has inspired me to focus a little more focused on love and romance posts than you typically would see from me. i previously covered annual energies and some broad themes associated with them, so i thought lets look a bit more at the romantic themes seeing that it's over a year later (since that post) and i have seen WAY more webs at this point and picked up on some other trends.

something to keep in mind though - these are COMMON energy markers, any of this can happen any year. these are just the best case scenarios in my opinion.

for instance you can get married in a 22 year, but i feel like it may not last long term or it might be an elopement that upsets the couple and those around them long term...

or you could have a baby in a 12 year but need a c-section.

just some examples. by no means should you feel limited by what i say below!

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

let's get to it!

energies that indicate meeting your person

3 (the empress): finding a relationship where both people feel nurtured. it's a loving connection with a great potential to become something beautiful. this is a connection where you can dream about a life and a family together.

5 (the hierophant): meeting someone who shares your values and beliefs. this often leads to a conventional, committed relationship, often marriage.

6 (the lovers): friends to lovers energy for sure - it starts with simple conversations and evolves into love. it more often than not leads to meaningful and deep connections.

10 (the wheel of fortune): suggests that meeting your future spouse / person could be a part of your destiny, often through unexpected or "serendipitous" events.

17 (the star): the relationship is blessed/guided by a higher power. destiny seems to bring you both together. you can sleep well knowing you're on the right path and that the universe is bring you a significant relationship.

19 (the sun): a connection will bring happiness, warmth, and a sense of completeness.

21 (the world): finding a partner with whom you feel whole, a sense of completion, and/or a deep understanding. this leads to a long-term, potentially lifelong partnership.

energies that indicate moving in together

4 (the emperor): moving in together often requires a stable and organized environment, which aligns with the themes of the energy such as establishing a solid foundation and practical arrangements.

5 (the hierophant): moving in together can be seen as following milestones in a relationship leading towards a more traditional or serious commitment (like shared housing).

7 (the chariot): directly linked to movement and travel. represents taking control of one's life and moving forward, which can include physically moving to a new home or location.

energies that indicate becoming engaged

4 (the emperor): suggests that a relationship is entering a phase of solid commitment, usually it's the formalizing of a bond through engagement if that is the next phase of commitment in terms of your relationship.

5 (the hierophant): suggesting that a relationship is moving toward a more traditional and committed phase - if you are in a relationship, it is likely that the next step will be an engagement.

6 (the lovers): this energy is all about love, union, and making choices that align with one's heart. it can symbolize making a significant commitment, like being engaged.

11 (justice): there is a desire to make things official, usually this is an engagement leading to marriage. this is the most common marker i see in the years where people get engaged to one another.

19 (the sun): suggests a joyous occasion, like getting engaged, where both parties feel a sense of fulfillment and happiness surrounding their future together (there might be a large engagement party to celebrate).

21 (the world): signifies reaching a milestone. it can indicate that a couple is ready to complete one phase of their relationship and move into the next one, like engagement.

energies that indicate a wedding/marriage

4 (the emperor): often this is a sign of "securing" the partnership, which can extend to the formality and structure of marriage.

5 (the hierophant): represents tradition, societal norms, and formal ceremonies. this energy can signify a traditional marriage or commitment in the eyes of the community/law, suggesting a formal union. all of the events of a wedding are ticked off: engagement party, bridal shower, bachelorette, bachelor, rehearsal, ceremony, reception, send off, and honeymoon.

6 (the lovers): the union of two individuals. it doesn’t always spell out marriage ceremony, but it often comes up in the context of a relationship oriented commitment.

11 (justice): this can indicate making things official through marriage.

13 (death): this could be a symbol of a brand new era in your relationship (aka marriage).

19 (the sun): this energy can symbolize the happiness and celebration of a wedding, suggesting that marriage will bring joy and fulfillment to the couple.

20 (judgment): like 13, this could be a symbol of a brand new era in your relationship (aka marriage).

21 (the world): indicates that a partnership has reached a stage where marriage feels like the natural and fulfilling next step. symbolized a long-term commitment.

energies that indicate having a child

2 (the high priestess): often this energy shows up when a couple has been trying to no avail to become pregnant and suddenly does. this is because this energy signifies hidden or secret aspects of life (like the early stages of pregnancy). the energy is also connected to the moon and other feminine mysteries.

3 (the empress): the most obvious energy linked to pregnancy and fertility - it symbolizes motherhood, creation, and nurturing. there is a strong possibility of pregnancy in these years

17 (the star): symbolizes hope. this is a time of fertility and holds the possibility for new beginnings. may suggest a blessing or a dream come true (becoming pregnant after a period of trying or waiting).

18 (the moon): deals with cycles (ovulation), intuition, and hidden aspects of life. like 2 energy (but more common in the outer ring) this energy signifies the mystery of pregnancy and the feminine cycles. sometimes i see this in the ring where people weren't trying and tested negative or they don't show (physically or publicly) when pregnant.

19 (the sun): can signify a healthy, happy pregnancy, and the birth of a child (come on it's a kid on a horse). suggesting a positive outcome (you test positive hCG on the stick or with blood).

20 (judgment): suggests the arrival of a new life / the transformative experience of becoming a parent. this could also be a positive sign for couples looking to adopt or foster a child (as it could be a sudden and somewhat unexpected change of events (the list is often long)).

21 (the world): symbolizes the completion of a cycle, such as successfully conceiving or carrying a pregnancy to term (if not beyond the "due date"). can represent the fulfillment that comes with creating life.

have ideas for new content? please use my “suggest a post topic” button!

return to nox's guide to metaphysics

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© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[gali-in-distress]

Been thinking about this for a long time:

David and Crystal's relationship as a very straightforward metaphor for abuse, sexual assault and grooming (and other things of the sort).

I think that we can all agree that David is basically a loser, but, he's in a position of power from the start. Much like an older man who can't get his peers to like him, David goes to a younger, impressionable human girl who will find him interesting, cool, mature, because he's a Demon.

When it comes to demons in general, he appears to be just a nobody, but to Crystal he's THE demon. He feeds her ego with this idea that she's special, so much better than the other girls, because she's a psychic. And only he can help her reach her full potential.

David encourages the worst parts of Crystal, according to him she's mean and evil and powerful. Nobody else will understand her, nobody else will love her, she's above humans, and so is he. He is awful, yes, but so is she. So they deserve each other, right?

Taking a page out of the Abuser 101 Guide Book, David doesn't believe in consent. Under that web of lies and manipulation, Crystal agrees to being possessed, but she doesn't get to back off after that. That logic rings familiar for a reason. It is very easy to blame Crystal for letting a Demon posses her. But at the end of the day, she's just a teenage girl who told her manipulative, more powerful boyfriend, to use her body once, only for him to change the terms of the original agreement. Consent is an ongoing thing. You should be able to take it back at any point. But David didn't let her. Is it her fault for saying Yes one time, if she wasn't allowed to say no after that?

Like many trauma survivors, Crystal doesn't get to remember much of what happened to her, good or bad. David took her identity. She only has her abusive ex's version of events to go off. He manipulates the narrative, selectively shows her the pieces of the story that support the argument that she's bad and Just Like Him. The version of her that has no family, no real friends, no support, no one to talk to but her toxic boyfriend.

That's the version that he can control. The one he has power over.

But we know that that's probably not all there is to her. In Emma's memories, Crystal is a kind, funny friend. When the possession happens the change is so alarming that Emma feels the need to ask for help. Furthermore, once she's removed from her toxic environment, Crystal's actions speak of kindness, of sympathy and wanting to help others. She's flawed like everyone else, she's hurt and she's witty and opinionated (which are not bad things). But at her core, she's not a bad person, like David wants her to think.

The effect David has on her is evident. Her life, her relationships and her self perceptions are marked with his abuse from then on.

He harassed her to the point where she was forced to give up a great part of her identity in order to get rid of him. She had already lost her memories, but then she loses her psychic abilities, her talent, her skill, what she feels gives her the right to be useful, to have a place within her new friends. Something that she's ashamed and scared of having lost. And something we then find out is deeply connected to her identity as a black woman and her heritage.

Losing a crucial part of yourself because it's been tainted by pain and fear because of an abusive partner is something that many people go through.

Crystal, due to the damage David has caused, can't trust men in her life anymore. She's hyper aware of any possible sign of danger. She gets cornered by the fear of possibly making the same mistake again. She snaps at the people she cares about, she sees demons where they aren't. If that isn't a sign of trauma, I don't know what is.

Crystal is a clear representation of what could happen to a person when they're emotionally neglected by the people that matter. She's brought up in an environment that pushes her to be self-assertive and independent. But at the end of the day, she's just a teenage girl, so she's vulnerable to the influence of others.

David took advantage of a girl who had little to no guidance, who probably always felt different due to being a psychic. He presents himself as a cool, interesting, sexy guy who claimed to understand her on a level that no one else had before. But ultimately, he's just some loser guy who had to go find a vulnerable girl to pray on, because he wasn't cool enough on his own. She's more powerful than him, but he made her feel that she needed him. When it's the other way around. And when he couldn't keep her small, shaped to follow him, he took her experiences and her identity with him.

[redrosydiaz]

it is unbearably hot today, so i am thinking about buck and eddie, whose AC is very inconveniently out, and can’t be fixed until at least tomorrow. christopher is at a friend’s house, for the first pool party of the summer, lucky kid, meanwhile buck and eddie are stuck inside with every single fan they own plugged in on full blast — but even that’s not really helping much. the fans offer a nice breeze, but they’re also kind of just circulating the hot air that’s already inside, so it does very little to actually cool them down. eddie is wearing (sweating through, more like) a pair of basketball shorts and one of those thin, slutty black tank tops of his, meanwhile buck’s got on a pair of (teeny tiny) running shorts and no shirt — he lost his about an hour ago when the feeling of the fabric sticking to his back started to bother him too much.

they’re sitting on the couch together — shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, even though it’s way too hot for that — because doing anything other than just existing is unthinkable in this heat. two fresh bottles of beer sit on the coffee table, condensation sweating down the sides and pooling into a slowly growing puddle on top of the coasters. there are also two discarded popsicle wrappers — because things got desperate enough that buck and eddie raided christopher’s popsicle stash in the freezer to try and cool down.

buck eats his popsicle with relish, chasing the cool relief it offers, brief as it is, with abandon. he eats it quickly, not minding the brain freeze it might prompt because, well, at least something will be frozen in this oven of a house. eddie, on the other hand, is a little more controlled about it. he takes his time with it, opting to savor every cool lick, every chilled bite. but, of course, in a temperature this hot, eddie’s popsicle is not winning the race against the heat, so, naturally, it starts to melt. eddie tries to catch the juice as it starts to run, but he’s not quick enough, and it ends up dripping all across his fingers, own his wrist, too. a few drops even land on his bare thigh, where his shorts have ridden up in his sprawl.

buck teases him about it, about not being fast enough, about making such a mess, but he also can’t take his eyes off of it. the sticky sweet fruit juice clinging to eddie’s knuckles, gathering in the webbing between his fingers, trickling over the delicate bones of his wrist.

eddie finishes the popsicle quickly after that, tossing the empty stick alongside buck’s on the coffee table. his hand is still raised in front of him, fingers spread as he examines the mess, laughing at it a little. he shifts, then, like he’s about to gather the energy to rise up and head for the kitchen, for the sink, to clean up.

and maybe it’s the heat getting to him, or maybe it’s just eddie, who always drives buck crazy, but just as eddie makes to stand, buck’s hand darts out to stop him. to curl around eddie’s forearm, to draw him back down onto the couch, to pull that messy hand towards himself.

eddie laughs again, opens his mouth to ask buck what the hell he’s doing, but his words die on his tongue as buck, without any preamble, folds eddie’s hand into a loose first and guides the two fingers he left sticking out right into his mouth.

eddie makes a choked noise, mind going blissfully blank as he gapes at buck — buck, who is going to town on eddie’s hand, just like he did that popsicle, only this time he’s taking his time with it. trailing his tongue carefully over eddie’s knuckles, in between his fingers, down the veins on the back of his hand, flat across his palm. 

it’s— it’s fucking intoxicating. makes eddie’s head swim more than it should be after just one beer and a popsicle. it sends a shiver down his spine that has nothing to do with the temperature. it’s from an entirely new heat coursing through eddie’s body. one he can feel building in his gut, licking into his veins, lighting up his nerve endings. something that is all buck.

once eddie’s hand is as clean as it can be, buck lets it go, and for a moment, eddie thinks that might be it. that buck will send him one of those cheeky smirks and settle back into his place beside eddie, perfectly content to start something and not finish it, the fucking tease. eddie wouldn’t put that past him. if there’s one thing buck loves, it’s riling eddie up.

but, buck doesn’t do that. 

he lets eddie’s hand go, and he starts to shift on the couch, but instead of returning to his previous sprawl, he turns fully towards eddie, scoots back, stretches out, then—

— he starts to lower himself. slowly, slowly, slowly, until he’s nearly flat against the couch, level with eddie’s lap. he’s mere inches from the unmistakable bulge eddie is now sporting in his shorts, close enough that eddie can feel each hot pant of breath against the inside of his thighs. he squirms in his seat, anticipation thrumming through his body.

one of buck’s hands moves towards eddie, and eddie’s breath catches in his throat — only, buck curls his palm around eddie’s hip, fingers pressing into the soft skin of his waist. and buck starts to lean down, but— instead of nosing at his trapped cock, like eddie half expected him to, buck drops his mouth open, wets his lips, then closes his mouth over the soft skin of eddie’s thigh — right where those few drops of popsicle juice landed. he laves at the skin, thick, slow strokes of his tongue, then sucks hard. hard enough to leave a new stain of red in its place.

eddie gasps, drops his head back against the edge of the couch. bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and does everything in his power not to jerk his hips up, to seek out some sort of pressure, some sort of friction. buck is so close, but, still, so far, too. and with each kiss, each bite, each new bruise he sucks into eddie’s sensitive skin, eddie feels his resolve slipping. 

and then, buck’s grip loosens on his hip, and his hand starts to snake its way up. up eddie’s abdomen, catching the hem of his tank top and taking it with him, pushing it up his stomach, up his ribs, up his chest until it’s bunched near his collar. he presses his hand to the center of eddie’s chest, palm flat, fingers splayed, and then, in one fluid motion that eddie’s sluggish brain can’t quite comprehend, he finds himself suddenly flat on his back on the cushion, buck half straddling him and poised above him.

and then buck’s ducking down to catch eddie’s mouth in a kiss. hot and wet and luxurious. slowly, his body presses down into eddie’s, pinning him to the couch with his weight. and, it’s way too hot for this, to be crushed together like this, flush at every point possible, but buck doesn’t care, and eddie doesn’t care either, is, in fact, clutching at buck’s back, holding him down on top of him. buck’s practically mounted atop eddie’s thigh, one of his own wedged between eddie’s legs, his other trapped between eddie and the couch. their hips move against each others in a lazy, lethargic grind. it’s too hot to pick up a really good rhythm, but good god, if this isn’t perfect anyways. they’re working up even more of a sweat, their skin sticking together where it’s touching, clothes soaked through. their kissing is barely even kissing anymore, just the two of them pressed together, panting into each other’s mouths, until buck trails his wet mouth across eddie’s cheek and buries his face into eddie’s neck. he breathes in the musk of him, presses his open mouth over eddie’s sweat-slick skin. his tongue lolls out, laps up the salt clinging to eddie’s heated skin. he sucks bruise after bruise into the crook of it.

they keep that up, that languorous grind until they’re both on the edge, and it only picks up the pace then, turning into something more desperate, something more frenzied in these last few moments, before they both fall over the edge, making even more of a mess of themselves as they come in their shorts.

they collapse into one another, as the highs of their orgasms start to fade. and it’s— it’s gross, probably. the both of them still slick with sweat and spit and now come, too. but it’s so hot, still, and neither of them want to move. not yet. so they just lie there, on the couch, a total mess. it is uncomfortable — buck’s body is heavy, on top of him, and eddie can feel both of them sweating in places he didn’t even know they could sweat. but— he kind of loves it. 

he kind of loves buck. obviously. 

so he doesn’t move. and buck doesn’t move. and they just, bask, in each other. in their sweat. in their stink. 

until finally finally, eddie doesn’t even know how much later, buck starts to squirm, and he lifts himself up onto his elbows over eddie, leans down for a kiss, then tells him they should probably go shower. and, eddie still kind of doesn’t want to move, still kind of just wants to lie here with buck, melding together. but, he nods, agrees. lets buck get off of him, and then takes buck’s hand when it’s offered, and he lets buck lead him into the bathroom—

—where they squeeze into their shower together, turn the water on cold enough, and proceed to get messy in a whole new way.

[iwillstabyou]

TMAGP 31 - A Computer Nerd’s Breakdown Of The Error Logs

It’s round 3, bitches! (tumblr crashed twice when I was writing this so I’ve had to start again multiple times. I do in fact see the irony, considering the subject matter)

I was listening to TMAGP 31 and as a computer nerd, oh my god those error messages just HIT DIFFERENT. There are so many subtle details hiding in those lines that a typical non-computery person would probably miss, so I feel it is my duty to explain them and their possible implications. So that’s why I’ve decided to fully break down each part of the error report, complete with what they could potentially suggest — think of this as “the TMAGP theorist’s guide to deciphering Chester’s yapping”

So without further ado, let’s get this party started…

(NOTE: lines from the transcript are in red, ‘translations’ are in purple, jmj specific stuff is is green, explanations are in black)

Starting off with Category: fatal programmer error, notice it says programmer, not program. There is nothing wrong with the code - the user has truly fucked up. Uh oh, Colin has made a big mistake…

Also, clever double meaning here with the word fatal. Obviously we know it was fatal to Colin (RIP king 🥲), but error logs also typically have a criticality level describing if immediate action needs to be taken. There are 6 commonly used levels, with the most critical being, yep you guessed it, ‘fatal’ - this means that whatever Colin was doing was a critical threat to the system. In other words, Colin had figured out the problem and was dangerously close to fixing it so Freddie just went “oh shit, we need to deal with this guy quickly or we are in serious trouble.”

Then we’ve got the next line, attempted host compromise (the Errno611 isn’t significant - error codes vary from system to system). When it comes to network terminology, a host is basically just any device on the network, so in full this line basically means “somebody’s tried to damage part of the network.” Importantly, “host” seems to suggest that the computers aren’t the source of this evil but merely a vessel for it. Freddie is just the mouthpiece for these supernatural forces - a bit like a non-sentient (as far as we know…) avatar. Whatever these forces are, they didn’t come from within/they weren’t created by Freddie.

(NOTE: I will come back to jmj=null in a bit)

The program traceback, Traceback <module> by extension BECHER, is rather interesting. A network extension is a way of providing network access to remote users (think along the lines of a VPN) by creating a personal direct ‘route’ to the network. Therefore if it’s the subject of an error report, it means there’s been an issue with data transmission along that path. So this bit means “there’s a problem with this specific network route that’s allocated to Colin.” However, the darker implication here is that Colin is an extension of Freddie. Although he wasn’t initially a part of all of this, he’s become tangled in the web (no pun intended) to the point that he and Freddie are inseparably intertwined. The OIAR employees may be able to quit their jobs, but they’ll still be a part of Freddie…

There isn’t much to say about Host=self.host in this context. It’s just convention when it comes to object oriented programming. Not important here.

Extension BECHER compromised isn’t just saying “there’s an issue here.” It’s saying “there’s an issue here that is a serious threat to network operation.” In other words, Freddie’s going “uh oh. Colin needs to be dealt with.”

The next bit is pretty self explanatory. I really don’t think I need to explain what <hardware damage_crowbar> means for you guys to understand. This bit made me laugh so hard. One thing that’s interesting though is that it gave it a DPHW, so Freddie processed this like it was an incident… Perhaps this fully confirms that the ‘thing’ controlling Freddie is of the same origin as the cases - it’s not something else entirely?

And now onto Administrator privilege revoked. This was the moment when I fully realised “oh no. Colin is fucked,” because any control that Colin may have had over the situation is now gone for good. Freddie’s basically just said “fuck you Colin. You’re not in charge anymore. I am.”

As you can probably guess, Unexpected data isolated/resolved just means that the crowbar’s been dealt with and the program can run as usual. Similarly, the Colin threat is fixed now he’s not an administrator i.e. he can no longer control the system. However, it then gets weird with Independent operation permissions revoked… It’s not saying Colin can’t use the network independently, it’s saying that Colin can’t be used independently of the network. Remember what I was saying earlier about Colin being a part of Freddie? Yeah, well now he purely is a part of Freddie. They’re turning our boy into data!

NOTE: I know in the audio it said everything was discarded but I’m going by the transcript. Idk why they’re different

You know it’s a bad sign when you hear Re config: self.host - Freddie’s evolving. The network is literally reconfiguring itself to now include Colin. And then Freddie goes through each of his alchemical elements one by one and fucking deletes them! How rude. You go and eat this man only to spit everything out!? I guess he’s feeling generous though, because he decides to keep the sulphur, which in alchemy, refers to the soul… If this isn’t just a coincidence, then that means Colin’s actual soul has been uploaded to Freddie. That could be really cool. And messed up. But mostly cool.

Starting with the final line, everyone knows what New administrator permissions assigned means, but we don’t know yet who they’ve been assigned to. Maybe it’s Gwen? Maybe it’s a new character? Maybe there is no system administrator anymore? It’s a mystery.

Now that’s out the way, let’s get on to the real juicy stuff…

The top few lines are pretty simple - it’s Freddie’s way of saying “Colin was a problem. We ate him. Now he’s not a problem anymore.” The next line, however, is a reminder that none of this is simple” - .jmj error not resolved. There it is again. The infamous jmj error. What does it mean? Jon? Martin? Jonah? Is that you???? Nobody knows. One thing we do know though is that jmj=null (from the start of the error log). Now when it comes to interpreting values, null is weird. It’s not zero, it’s not empty, it’s sort of nothing but it’s not nothing. It’s just null. It means no value, but it doesn’t mean that the variable doesn’t have a value (if that makes any sense to you guys???). Ooh I think I know how to explain it?? Imagine you’re Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute and you’re digitising some archived ID photos when you find one without a name. The recorded name in the database would be null - you can’t put anything in particular, but that doesn’t mean the person in the photo doesn’t have a name. I guess null means unknown or missing here. So basically, what jmj=null means is that the jmj is unknown and that is a problem because it can’t get ignored/it is important. So what it’s basically saying is that jmj is a mystery not only to us, but also to Freddie.

Take a look at Data integration cycle ongoing <0.02%> - Data integration is the process of combining data from multiple sources into a single source of truth. There are 4 stages: data ingestion, cleaning, transformation, and unification. Thanks to the whole Colin ordeal, I’m sure you are all quite familiar with these stages by now (and that, students, is what we call a case study!). The peculiar thing here though is that we’ve just witnessed most of the data integration cycle - surely it should be higher than 0.02%? Yes, that’s correct. It should be far higher than that. It makes no sense. UNLESS this isn’t about Colin. Most of Colin’s data has probably already integrated. This is something else entirely - something so much bigger and foreign than these computers were designed for (the only comparison I can think of is trying to run the sims 4 with all expansion packs on a 15 year old laptop. It really shouldn’t work, and it probably won’t, but it’s gonna try regardless). This seems to follow on nicely from the jmj=null comments above, because Freddie is clearly struggling to integrate something (hence System function margins down to 82%), and when you try to read data that hasn’t been fully integrated with the system, you end up with a lot of missing & unknown values. Sound familiar? Yep, that’s right - until more data is synchronised, many values will be null, like our good friend jmj. Why is it taking so long to integrate jmj? We don’t know. Perhaps its origins are so supernatural and otherworldly that it’s simply not tangible enough for Freddie to process it? That’s what I think at the moment, at least.

So yeah, that’s my line by line analysis done! Hope you found that helpful/interesting. This podcast is so well written I’m actually going insane! Jonny and Alex, you are the guys of all time! As I’ve already said, feel free to expand on any of this - I’d love to hear your theories

Signed, your friendly neighbourhood computer nerd who is very autistic about TMAGP :)

[revelboo]

absolutely frothing at the mouth over the most recent tarantulas update, that little grinding tease makes me want full on spice with him even moreso

Sure! 🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

I’m a terrible influence 🤣 It’s one of those Sylvanian Families/Calico Critters houses

Disappear Pt 13

ES Tarantulas x Reader

• Nerves thrumming, one of his clawed hands cups your face and you’re aware of all the ways you’re not the same. Remembering his offer, to hide his real form away and to live with you through his avatar. Willing to live a lie just to stay with you. And that sort of devotion is as terrifying as it is awe inspiring. Knowing that if you overthink this, you’ll back down. Miss this opportunity to find out if this could be more. Could be love.

• Feathering a servo over your bottom lip, his extra limbs move restlessly against you. “Will you still love me after?” You ask, tone teasing but there’s something vulnerable in your eyes that makes his spark ache for you. Don’t you understand that he’s loved you from the moment you reached out to him? Placed your hand in his and didn’t cringe away. Saw him and accepted him?

• “I’ll worship you,” he mumbles, mandibles fidgeting with embarrassment. And his awkwardness breaks through the nerves. Pressing a palm against his chassis to get him to lean back and give you room, you start stripping. Painfully aware of the nest bouncing slightly with every movement and trying not to think about the fact that you’re suspended high in the air or that his webbing might break. Visor brightening as he reaches for you and hesitates after you’re naked, you catch his wrist and guide his warm hand to you, giving him permission to touch you.

• Extra limbs hooking into the nest, he shifts over your body, mandibles and mouth sliding over skin. And he has to shoulder your thighs open when you squirm under him, a hand reaching to nervously try and push him away until he’s extending two limbs to catch and gently pin your wrists. Because you’re right here with him and he doesn’t want to give you a chance to overthink this and change your mind. Wants to taste you, touch you, claim all of you as his. Head lowering, your breath hitches when he puts his mouth on you.

• Arching against his mouth, Tarantulas makes a low, rasping growl that makes your skin prickle. Your sweet, docile scientist sounding ferocious as his glossa tunnels inside you, lapping. And all you can do is buck your hips as he devours you, clawed servos holding your thighs open to him. Trembling under him, you grab onto his extra limbs, rocking yourself against his mouth until you’re crying out as you come apart.

• Limbs snaring you as he lifts up to his knees and frees his aching spike, his hands cup your hips and guide you to him. Sliding the length of his spike against you, slicking himself with you in lazy passes that make you whimper. Before finally pulling you down onto his spike and you’re so slick and tight wrapped around him, taking him deep as your body arches in his grip. Using his limbs to move you lazily on his spike before laying you down and moving against you, hips pumping.

• Looping your arms around his neck as soon as he stops pinning you, all you can do is hang onto him. Because this Tarantulas isn’t timid and uncertain and it’s a shock, he’s in complete control, the nest bouncing with his thrusts. Moving against you with an urgency that’s almost frightening. But then gently bumping his head against yours, visor brightening as he holds your eyes. And this isn’t just sex, you’re painfully aware of that as your body coils and heats until you’re shattering again. Feeling him shudder with a snarl, hips pumping urgently before he groans and overloads to fill you. Limbs hooking against you almost mindlessly, you hide your face against his neck as little tremors shiver through you like aftershocks.

Previous

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[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (11/20)

Here it is the next part, before any of you kidnap me hahahahah

This chapter is soo looooong. I need you guys read it quietly and pay attention.

It won't be a easy read, 15k words, huh? It's a lot. Mommy is tired 😩

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: You feel special after receiving your award, but you don't know how long it will last

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Art II

The silence inside the car was more than just an absence of sound. It was a living entity, something dense and heavy that wrapped around your body like a cloak—too warm, too tight.

The only sounds you could hear were the engine’s low, steady purr, the tires skimming against the wet asphalt of the night, and the faint rustling of your dress whenever you shifted, restless, unable to find a position that eased the suffocating tension building inside you.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. But they were there, and you felt it with every inch of your skin.

Agatha, seated to your left, held herself with impeccable posture—one leg crossed over the other, long fingers resting on her knee in a manner far too casual for someone carrying a storm in her eyes. Rio, at your right, wore a faint, dangerous smirk, fingers tapping rhythmically against her thigh—a gesture that oozed impatience. You weren’t sure which of them made you tremble more.

Maybe it was the sudden chill racing down your spine, a cruel contrast to the warmth pooling between your legs, making the simple act of keeping your composure utterly impossible.

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a brief moment, as if that could stop your mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t. As if that could make the dampness on your skin disappear.

The glowing skyline of Los Angeles blurred outside the window, but nothing beyond that car existed for you. The air was too thick, pressing against your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Every second that passed without a single word from them only made the atmosphere more unbearable.

And then you felt it.

Their eyes.

First, Rio’s—watching you from the corner of her eye, studying every tiny detail of your expression, capturing each flicker of your unease. Then, Agatha’s—who didn’t even need to move to ensnare you in the invisible web of control she wove so effortlessly.

You didn’t know if they exchanged glances, but you could feel their shared, silent satisfaction at your inability to stay still—at your heartbeat hammering against your ribs, your fingers curling and uncurling into fists over the delicate fabric of your dress, desperately searching for some semblance of control.

And then, finally, the car stopped.

And your body froze.

The sound of the door opening was deafening. Agatha stepped out first, the sharp echo of her heels striking the stone entrance. Rio followed soon after, fabric sliding, hips moving with effortless grace.

You remained there a second too long, heart pounding in your ears, legs weak enough to betray you the moment you tried to move.

But then, as if she had been waiting for it, Rio leaned slightly back into the car—her woody perfume flooding your senses as she placed a warm hand at the base of your spine. The pressure was minimal but undeniable, guiding you forward like a puppet responding to a silent command.

The cool night air kissed your feverish skin, but it did nothing to quell the heat consuming you from within.

The doors shut.

And then—her voice.

"Go upstairs and wait on your knees."

The order was soft, but firm. Unquestionable. Undeniable.

Your stomach plunged into a dizzying abyss of fear and desire.

Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, the pulsing heat between your thighs a cruel reminder of just how far gone you already were—how desperately your own body had betrayed you.

Agatha’s words lingered between you, hanging in the air, echoing, reverberating. You swallowed hard, blinking a few times as if unsure you had heard her correctly—but, of course, you had. Every cell in your body had reacted to it as if commanded by something primal, something inevitable.

Turning slowly, as if walking through a dream—or a delicious nightmare—you started up the stairs, every fiber of your being tingling with the awareness that they were behind you, watching your every movement, savoring every second of your obedience.

The sound of your own footsteps was deafening in the silence.

With each step, your heart pounded harder.

Your chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, lungs struggling to pull in enough air.

And between your legs—

God.

You were already lost.

Each step toward the bedroom felt like an eternity, your body burning with anticipation, every erratic heartbeat winding the tension tighter.

Your legs were trembling. Your breath was shallow, almost nonexistent.

The silence behind you was just as deafening as the blood rushing in your ears. You knew they were there, watching, feeling the same electric need coursing through your veins, threatening to consume you whole.

You barely registered your fingers gripping the hem of your dress, lifting the expensive fabric, feeling it slide against your sensitive skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. A shaky sigh escaped as the silk pooled around your feet.

The cool air of the room met your bare skin, your nipples tightening at the sudden change in temperature—but it was nothing compared to the fire raging inside you.

Only in your panties now, your neck adorned with the delicate collar. Exposed. Vulnerable. Submissive.

You ran your tongue over your dry lips, the mixture of nerves and hunger intoxicating. Your knees bent slowly, and the moment they met the plush carpet, a shiver ran down your spine.

The position felt so natural. As if it had been carved into your very being.

There, on your knees. Waiting.

You had been so good for them.

And good girls were rewarded, weren’t they?

Thoughts crashed into each other in your head, memories still fresh, still searing, flooding every one of your senses.

The taste of Rio’s kisses—hot, demanding, stealing every breath from your lips.

The firm grip of Agatha’s hands on your waist—possessive. Controlling your body, your breath, your will. Her fingers inside you—your body pulsing around them, begging wordlessly for her never to stop.

Fuck.

You swallowed hard, chest rising and falling erratically, the air feeling too thick to take in.

Your fingers clenched against your thigh, as if they needed something to grip—something to keep your mind even slightly centered. But how could you focus when your body was already reacting before any touch, before any command?

And then, the sound.

The door.

Your body tensed immediately as the sound of footsteps in shoes invaded the space, making your heart leap to your throat. You risked lifting your eyes, and what you saw made your breath fail instantly.

They were there.

Agatha and Rio stood before you—a vision of pure, embodied desire. Their lipstick was smudged on their lips, their eyes glittering with lust and power. They had kissed down below. You knew in that instant—from the way their chests still rose and fell heavily, from the way they looked at you now—as if they were predators who had just tasted blood, yet were still unsatisfied.

You felt your body react immediately.

Your breathing escaped your control. Your stomach churned with raw anticipation and excitement, a warm wave coursing between your thighs, further wetting your thin panties. You tried to take a deep breath, but it was useless. The air wouldn’t come in, trapped in your throat by anticipation.

Fuck.

You closed your eyes for a second, just to remember who you were at that moment.

Their good little girl.

And good girls wait.

Rio tilted her head to the side, her brown eyes shining under the soft light of the room. Her red lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth, and the way her lips curved into a lazy smile made your stomach churn with anticipation.

And Agatha… Oh, Agatha. She looked as impenetrable as always, her clear eyes sliding over you with an interest that was both sharp and indulgent—as if she were appraising a freshly finished painting, deciding whether it lived up to her refined taste.

Your fingers flexed on your thighs. You wanted to speak, but you didn’t dare.

"She’s really obedient, isn’t she?" Rio remarked, her voice laced with a lazy amusement.

"Of course she is." Agatha replied without hesitation, and your chest swelled with pride at the sound of her satisfied tone. "She’s ours."

A shiver ran down your spine. A warm wave of pleasure crawled beneath your skin just at the thought of being praised.

Of being recognized.

Her fingers caressed your chin, as if you were a kitten.

"Aren’t you, darling?" Agatha purred, and you leaned into her hand.

You closed your eyes and swallowed hard—feeling a part of your mind melt at that dangerously sweet tone.

"Yes, Mommy," you managed in a soft, needy voice, like a little puppy. And you didn’t even think to correct yourself, because that’s exactly what you were.

"You behaved so well, sweetheart." Rio stepped closer, stroking the top of your head. "So controlled. How did you manage? Tell us." Her fingers dug into your scalp, tugging at your hair and instinctively tilting your head back—exposing your adorned neck.

Your mind whirled. Feelings. Memories. Desires. You couldn’t think of anything, so you simply let go—letting the women, your Mommies, take care of everything, slip into your mind, decide what their little pet should say or do.

"I—" you began, but the buildup of saliva in your mouth prevented you; you swallowed hard and continued, "I was just a good girl for my Mommies."

You noticed that Rio always reacted more dramatically than Agatha. While the blue-eyed woman simply smiled with quiet pride and let out a trembling sigh, Rio growled and pulled you even closer, making you whimper like a wounded animal in pain from the position you were forced into.

"That’s it, isn’t it, pet?" she asked, unfastening your collar. You nearly cried at the emptiness you felt in your chest. But it soon passed as Rio’s hand settled perfectly around your neck—squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. "You’re the perfect pet for your Mommies, aren’t you?"

She squeezed so hard you couldn’t breathe. Your hands flew to her wrist, trying to pry her grip off. For a moment, you thought you saw Rio savoring it—smelling your fear, tasting the salty tang of unshed tears at the corners of your eyes.

"Rio. Enough," Agatha’s voice rang out, severe—a sharp warning. And the dark-eyed woman let you go, leaving you to cough and writhe on the floor. "Well, well… You seem to have a knack for making your Mommy lose control quite often, don’t you, little one?"

She crouched to your level, stroking your reddened neck and wiping away your tears. You felt almost numb, as if your body couldn’t keep up with your mind. Just them.

Agatha’s eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, it seemed as if she was lost in the way you trembled in their hands. It was almost as if they were worshiping you.

"So perfect…" she whispered, her mouth trailing slowly over your face like an animal marking its territory with pheromones. "Mommy knew you had it in you." She murmured, and after a moment, you noticed the collar in Agatha’s hands.

This one was different—it was made of slightly thicker leather than your choker, but not in a rough way—it was wild, you thought. There were two charms dangling from it: a tiny silver bunny head and a tag that, if turned, could reveal an inscription. The leash attached to it was long, designed precisely for training.

Mommies’ pet.

"That. Is your other reward," she said, rising. "It’s what a perfect little pet deserves." She smiled broadly, her white teeth blinding you in the darkness of the room.

She fastened the collar around your neck, and it felt as if fireworks exploded in your chest from the sheer intensity of what you were feeling.

Unique.

Desired.

Seen.

Loved.

"Come," Agatha commanded, walking over to the king-sized bed, crossing her elegant, pale legs. "—pet." Her tone, almost a growl, made your clit throb. She tugged on the leash, urging you forward.

And you arrived.

You were tired of it all.

Of resisting, of trying to fight this feeling. You had been an adult for so... so long. Life’s responsibilities had come to you too early. Why not indulge in this escape your Mommies were offering? Honestly, you had no argument against it.

Your knees dragged on the carpet, your sweaty hands moving as well, and all you wanted now was to reach your place. At their feet.

When you arrived, you looked up to find Rio sitting on her own knees on the mattress—naked now, her red gala dress discarded. Moonlight glimmered on her bronzed skin. She was helping Agatha undress, already revealing tantalizing hints of her untouched skin.

"Fuck," you couldn’t hold it back; you thought repeatedly how intensely it was happening.

Agatha and Rio laughed maliciously—perhaps at the way you were already completely undone by them. But your thoughts halted when the older one pulled the leash, positioning you between her legs.

"Get up, pet."

She taps lightly on the soft mattress, encouraging you to climb up. The first thing you feel when you do are Rio’s large hands pulling you toward her.

“Did I hurt you, bunny?” Her eyes shine sweetly in your direction. “Mama loses control with you. It doesn’t matter if you’re good for us—” She pauses to lick your face, trailing along your jaw and down to the base of your neck, as if trying to soothe the damage she’d done to your skin earlier. “—or if you’re a brat.”

Her lips press against yours. The kiss is violent, wild. So Rio. She bites your lips as her hands move up to your breasts, giving them a slow, firm massage. “They drive me crazy, you know that, don’t you?”

You force yourself to pull away from Rio, turning your head toward Agatha, who’s watching everything with a glint in her eyes you’ve never seen before, as if she’s trying to hold herself back from something.

You take a risk, crawling toward Agatha, who holds her breath as you approach. She’s not honest, but her body doesn’t lie, you think, satisfied by how much you affect her.

“Mommy,” you get close enough to feel Agatha’s trembling, needy lips against yours. You brush your mouths together, then let out a soft puff of air. “Please,” you whisper, just to see her react.

And there it is. That’s enough.

“Fuck this,” Agatha growls through her teeth, attacking your lips. Agatha’s kiss, once so controlled, is now filled with an intensity you’ve never experienced, and you wonder if you can handle it. Handle them.

“Mommy needs her little pet right now,” she says, opening herself to you, and you see the wet spot on her wine-red lace panties. “Mama won’t mind, will she? She can have fun with our little pet in more creative ways.”

She looks at Rio with a provocative gaze that ignites a fire in you. Jealousy? You wonder, but everything stops when Agatha pulls you by the leash to face her clothed pussy.

“Lick,” you try, tasting Agatha through the fabric and moaning at the sensation. Fuck. It’s a pleasant, tangy sweetness on your tongue. You need more of it. So much more.

With that thought burning in your mind, you push your tongue deeper against the fabric, sliding it up and down, exploring every inch.

Agatha arches her back, moaning, her hands find your head, and she starts stroking it, a clear sign you’re doing a good job. “Fuck,” she gasps, running her fingers through your hair. “Mommy’s little pet was hungry, wasn’t it?”

“Mommy,” you whine into her pussy. “Please, mommy, I need more.”

“Of course you do,” she says, almost mocking you. For how pathetic you sound for her. “What do you think, my love?” She turns to Rio, who’s positioned behind you, caressing your ass in a dangerous way.

“I think I should tell you exactly how mommy likes to be fucked, and our little pet will be a good girl and do exactly as I say, won’t she?” She presses a soft kiss to your back.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, mama.”

With your consent, Rio slips a finger into you, making you moan in pain and surprise. You’ve done this before, but it’s been exactly a year, and that time had been calm, sweet like vanilla—nothing like what’s in front of you now.

“Say ‘black,’ and mommies will stop everything. Understood, sweetheart?” She moves her finger inside you, feeling your tight walls clench around it. “Fuck. So fucking tight.” Rio exhales, trying to focus. “Understood?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Good.” She starts fucking you, her movements rough and deep. Agatha lies down in front of you, her legs spread, and you can see how wet she is.

“I’d say you need to start by teasing her, but it looks like she’s already there,” Rio says eagerly. Then it’s her turn to moan as your body clenches around her finger with a particularly deep thrust.

“Take mommy’s panties off.” Rio presses her breasts against your back, practically riding you. “She loves to be worshipped.” You feel her hard nipples dragging across your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You hook your fingers into the wine-colored fabric, feeling the texture of her goosebumped skin, and pull the fabric down, revealing Agatha’s smooth, wet pussy—a flood of saliva fills your mouth, desperate to taste her.

“I need your mouth on me, kitten.”

You obey and bring your mouth closer to Agatha’s pussy; you’re about to start when you feel Rio slap your ass, a corrective smack between her thrusts. “I didn’t tell you to do anything yet,” she growls. “Start with broad licks up and down; you’ll need to hold her hips because mommy is very sensitive and loves to squirm.”

“Rio,” Agatha warns, giving the impression she still has some control over the woman behind you.

You do as you’re told and begin licking firmly but slowly. Rio was right; Agatha is sensitive, and every moment you thrust against her, she trembles. She buries her hands in your hair and pushes you deeper into her. “Yes. Fuck, baby, that’s the spot.”

Rio’s nails dig into your hip where she’s holding you, and she starts thrusting even harder. Your moans are loud and muffled.

“Now circle her clit with the tip of your tongue.” Her voice is breathless. “Fuck. So good,” she sighs. “And remember to wrap your lips around it and suck a little.”

You do as you’re told, and again, Agatha begins to writhe beneath you, grinding herself against your face, drenching you, all the way to your chin. Rio wraps his arms around your waist, his fingers teasing your clit, and you moan at the added stimulation, driving you even closer.

The quivering of her tongue brings Agatha even closer to her own orgasm as she gasps, "That feels fucking good! But Mommy needs more. If you don't make me cum, I swear I'll kill you."

You whimper pathetically, insecure. Doubt eating away at you. On one hand, you want to make Agatha cum, but Rio hasn't told you to do anything else yet, and you don't want to mess it up, do you?

Mama’s hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just a little because she doesn’t want to hurt you again and she pulls you up; she stops her hips, but her fingers keep moving.

“You heard Mommy, didn’t you?” She forks her fingers inside you, making you almost come right then and there. “No rushing.” She chuckles in your ear, her tone challenging.

Agatha arched like a taut bow, her fingers digging into the sheets in white knots, her pelvis quivering beneath her pale skin as she felt, once again, his mouth enveloping her clit with perfect pressure.

You watch, hypnotized, every expression of pleasure, every indecent sound she makes as she writhes on your fingers, frantic—a spectacle of strength and submission that makes your own body throb in perfect harmony.

Then a sharp thrust from Rio reminds you that she’s still in control of you, her wrist moving rhythmically up and down, suddenly making you feel like you really need to go to the bathroom.

"Just like that... just like that, my little slut," Rio hisses, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. Your tanned thighs collide with the milky skin of the brunette, the wet sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. "You want me to finish you, don’t you? Want to be the first to come on our special little night?"

She chokes you from behind, pushing you even deeper, making you gag on Agatha’s pussy, slowing the intensity of your licks to moan.

Agatha lets out a sound between a laugh and a moan, her swollen lips biting her own fist. Her bright eyes meet yours, glazed, defiant even in vulnerability. "D-don’t you dare stop," she commands between waves of pleasure, her hoarse voice pulling you like a magnet. "I want... I want you to show me what a pathetic little pussy-licker you are... now!"

You move before you even process it, crawling between her trembling legs. The sweet-and-sour scent of Agatha mixed with Rio’s aroma intoxicates you.

When your tongue touches her swollen clit, she moans loudly, one hand tangling in your hair while the other grips Rio’s hip, pulling her in harder.

"Slow... slow, pet," Rio instructs, but her voice is broken, her fingers digging into your waist like claws. "Let mommy feel every... Fuck... millimeter of that tongue."

You obey, slowing your pace, enveloping her throbbing clit with your lips while Rio’s free hand traces wet circles on your breasts with her fingertips. Agatha’s muffled scream is a sweet enough reward. Her body convulses, and a wave of contractions tightens around the fingers inside you, and Rio loses control—her thrusts become faster, erratic, until you let out a loud moan that echoes off the walls.

Your tongue movements become clumsy, urgent. You were desperate, crazy to let out the best in you. You’d done this before. Yes. But you knew this time it was... powerful.

"Fuck, baby!" Agatha moans loudly, pulling the strands of your hair from the root. "Right there. Mommy’s close. Fuck! I’m—” The moan that follows is sharp and long, the kind you never imagined a woman like her could make.

"Look at mommy while she comes, sweetie," Rio orders, not a plea, but a decree. She curls her fingers inside you, finding just the right spot, and your eyes roll back behind your eyelids.

The older woman’s legs curl above your head, her stomach muscles trembling, her fingers pulling your hair with almost painful force as the orgasm tears her apart.

You lick every drop, hungry, intoxicated by the power of having made her fall apart. But there’s no time to savor it—because Rio pulls you by the ankle, rolling you onto your back beneath her. Her brown eyes are dark pools of possessiveness.

"My turn, little pest," she growls, aligning the strap-on still dripping with Agatha against your entrance. "But remember to do it rough." She mounts your face, her head between her thighs, and you see the wetness glistening in her pink, swollen folds.

Now, your back is pressed against Agatha’s belly, her legs spread open to receive your body.

Rio offers herself to you, rocking her hips shamelessly. You stick your tongue out, licking her entire length, testing her reactions. Rio gasps loudly and rolls her head back, as if relaxing.

Your hands reach for the woman’s firm ass, encouraging her to roll her hips against your mouth. But Rio grabs your wrists above your head with one hand, making you whimper.

Rio rises just enough to suffocate you with her pussy, her juices smearing all over your face, making you drown. But you don’t stop—Rio’s scent is everywhere in the room. "Shh... take it, kitten. Mama likes it like this."

Agatha watches, catching her breath, her free hand tracing lewd patterns on her own clit. "Show mama how good you are at taking it," she murmurs, and there’s pride in that slurred voice.

Rio stretches just enough to capture Agatha’s lips, the privileged view you have is fucking hot. Their strict mouths fight for virile control, tongues clashing and teeth biting.

And in that moment, you feel like laughing, imagining that before you, sex between them was a wrestling ring of two women fighting for control.

They whisper words to each other. Murmurs in an unknown language, but it sounds intimate and powerful.

You crave that, that level of intimacy.

Rio gives you no respite. She grinds her pussy against your mouth, her clit rubbing against your nose, a mark of possession you accept with open arms.

The guttural sounds that echo like a liturgy in syllables that slip between Rio’s teeth to lodge in Agatha’s throat. You don’t understand, but your uterus contracts as it recognizes the tone: a proto-language of teeth and nails and possessiveness.

Agatha responds while digging her nails into Rio’s ribs. Their kiss turns into a ritualistic battle—two women fighting for the primordial bone of domination. You watch through Rio’s trembling thighs, hypnotized by the choreography of their tongues.

Rio murmurs against her partner’s mouth, and her clit pulses in response against your upper lip, making you moan. Agatha’s response is softer, almost a prayer, and that’s when you realize: the syllables are synchronized with your internal contractions.

Your body understands before your mind does.

The first shock comes from the depths of your abdomen—an electric tremor that paralyzes your spine. You try to scream, but Rio’s cunt seals your mouth, turning the sound into a muffled moan. They spit out a word simultaneously, their foreheads pressed together.

Your mind unravels.

The orgasm doesn’t come like a wave, but like a neural blackout. White. Static. Your muscles arch without permission from your consciousness—an animal reacting to archaic stimuli encoded in those words.

You came without even being touched.

You take a while, but when you come back to yourself, you're still trembling like a pup in the snow. Rio chuckles, a deep sound that vibrates through your pubic bone. "Our little one is awake, huh?"

You open your eyes fully, seeing Rio and Agatha’s figures blurred. Rio was wearing a yellow nightgown, sitting at the edge of the bed, watching you. You blink, clearing your vision.

Agatha steps out of the bathroom wearing her floral robe, the scent of soap and cleanliness reaching your nose, wrapping around you. “Looks like we took her apart.”

You hear Rio let out a soft laugh. And then you feel another touch against your sensitivity, making you tense from the overwhelming sensation. "Shh… Mama’s just cleaning you up, sweetheart."

Your body still trembled with occasional aftershocks, as if echoing the remnants of the spell they had cast. Your muscles were heavy, your mind foggy, but there was something beyond the haze—a sense of belonging that warmed your chest, as if you were being woven into something far greater than you could comprehend.

Rio’s touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. The warm cloth glided over your sensitive folds, and with each movement, she let out a subtle sigh, almost as if she were savoring the way your body responded to even the slightest stimulation. She wasn’t rushing. It wasn’t indifferent or mechanical—it was reverence.

Agatha sat beside you, her warm hand resting on your thigh, drawing small circles with her thumb. Her eyes—which had stripped you bare with such ferocity before, which had tested your limits so many times with that inquisitive gleam—were soft now. There was no urgency. Just presence. Just acceptance.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?" Rio murmured, her voice carrying the weight of something that could almost be tenderness, though it was still wrapped in that usual note of control. Even in gentleness, she was still Rio.

You tried to shake your head, but too late, you realized you didn’t even know the answer. Your body was warm, your skin still feverish from everything that had just happened, but inside… there was a sweet emptiness, a tiredness that wasn’t just physical but emotional, almost spiritual. You felt exhausted, yes, but also cradled, enveloped in something you couldn’t quite name.

Agatha, always a step ahead, pulled the sheets over you, her long fingers smoothing the fabric around your shoulders as if she were dressing you in fine silk. A discreet yet definitive gesture of care. She wouldn’t say it in words, but she was protecting you.

Rio finished cleaning you and leaned over, her face hovering just inches from yours. You felt her warm breath, the minty scent of toothpaste mingling with the floral notes that always surrounded her like a subtle promise. “You gave us everything tonight, little one… and you were perfect.”

The praise, simple as it was, made something tighten in your chest. You had always wanted to be this for them. Always wanted to deserve their touch, their gaze, their attention.

But now, in the quiet settling over the room, you realized it wasn’t about deserving. It was about surrender. And they were here, accepting every part of you without hesitation.

Agatha, lazy as a satisfied cat, curled up beside you, running a slow hand through your hair, untangling the knots with meticulous care. “Now rest, sweetheart…” Her voice was drawn out, a velvet whisper. “Tomorrow, Mommy wants you alert. You have a big day ahead, don’t you, little successor?”

You tried to mumble something, but your tongue felt heavy, and all that came out was a faint sound. The warmth of Agatha at your side and the solid presence of Rio against your chest were anchoring you, pulling you back into a state of safety and belonging.

“Shh, it’s okay… all you need to do now is rest.” Rio’s voice softened as she started rubbing slow, rhythmic circles over your back, her palm moving down to your hip. The gentle pats against your bottom were subtle, a rhythm that resonated with your own heartbeat, guiding you toward tranquility.

[...]

The first rays of sunlight kissed your skin, and you woke slowly, as if emerging from deep waters. Your body still felt heavy, wrapped in the warmth of the bed and the familiar scent of skin and lavender. For a moment, your senses took their time catching up—until you realized.

They were still there.

Agatha’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her warm breath against your collarbone. Rio, nestled on the other side, had buried herself in your neck, her arms loosely draped around you but firm enough that you knew she wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

Your first thought was surprise. Not because they were distant or cold—far from it. But because they had routines, responsibilities, a whole world that revolved around them. And yet… and yet, this morning, they were here, just as spent as you, just as surrendered to the shared rest as you.

The thought melted you completely.

For a moment, you simply lay there, feeling the comfortable weight of their bodies against yours, the synchronized rhythm of the breathing of two women who, somehow, had fit into the same space, on the same night.

You wanted to give back. Not just with obedience or submission—they already had that from you. You wanted to offer something of your own, something simple, something that said, “I take care of you too.”

Maybe breakfast?

The idea seemed perfect. But for that, you had to get out of bed first.

The problem was… you were trapped.

Rio had one leg draped over yours, and Agatha’s arm rested lazily across your stomach. Carefully, you tried to slip out of their hold, holding your breath so as not to wake them.

But then, as you shifted a little too abruptly, you felt Rio’s nose press against your neck, and a sleepy hum escaped her lips.

“Hmm…” She murmured against your skin, her voice rough from sleep. Her arm tightened slightly around your waist, as if her body refused the idea of letting you go.

You bit back a laugh, feeling the warmth rise to your face.

"Rio…" You whispered, trying to move again.

This time, it was Agatha who reacted, letting out a sigh and snuggling closer to you.

Perfect. Now you were doubly trapped.

For a moment, you hesitated. Maybe breakfast could wait.

Maybe, just maybe… you could stay a little longer.

You sighed, resigning yourself to your fate. But then, a groan cut through the silence.

“Ugh…” Agatha buried her face in the pillow and shifted uncomfortably. “Damn age.”

Rio cracked one lazy eye open, still nestled in your neck. “What is it now, love?”

“My back. My legs. My soul.” Agatha grumbled, rolling onto her back with a pained sigh. “You two killed me.”

You let out a quiet laugh, quickly stifling it when Agatha turned her head to narrow her eyes at you.

Rio, however, didn’t hold back. “You have to accept it, Aggie, the years are catching up.”

That signature smirk, the dramatic eye roll—so very Rio—made you grin wide.

The woman was so theatrical.

The teasing tone made Agatha huff, closing her eyes as if the entire world was a burden. “If I wanted to be insulted first thing in the morning, I would’ve called my mother.”

Rio rolled out of bed with sudden energy. “Alright, alright, I’ll handle it.”

“And exactly how do you plan to ‘handle’ this?” Agatha questioned, not moving a muscle.

Rio snapped her fingers and pointed at you. “You, grounded. Look what you did to your Mommy!”

Your jaw dropped. “What?! But I just existed!”

“You existed too much.” She winked, then turned to Agatha. “And you, Madame Backache, don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

She leaned in to press a soft, warm kiss to your feverish forehead, and before you could respond, Rio was already gone.

You turned your head toward Agatha, who looked like someone who couldn’t believe she had to deal with this so early in the morning.

“Is she bringing tea?” you asked innocently.

“If I’m lucky,” Agatha murmured, her eyes now open, looking at you warmly. The tiny wrinkles around them formed when she smiled—there was a tenderness in her gaze that made you hesitate. “If I’m not, she’ll show up with some weird massage technique and force me into a ‘healing ritual.’”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

It didn’t take long before Rio returned, balancing a tray with an infuriating level of grace for someone who clearly hadn’t just woken up. The scent of fresh coffee, toast, and fruit filled the room, warming the air more than the sunlight filtering through the curtains.

“Breakfast in bed for my two madames.” She announced, placing the tray on the mattress with a small bow. “For my beloved wife,” she theatrically offered an Advil and a glass of water, making you wonder what Rio would even look like if she were ever mad at you—her humor seemed unshakable. “And for my little princess.”

The cup containing the chocolate milk was colorful, pink, and covered in cute animal prints. The shape looked like a...

Baby bottle? What?

Your smile faltered as you tried to process it. Your gaze moved slowly from Rio to Agatha, who was calmly drinking her coffee, giving no indication that anything about this was unusual. You blinked, unsure of what to say.

“Uh…” you started, feeling the plastic texture of the cup against your fingertips. “Is this a…?”

“A cute thing for a cute little one,” Rio replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You kept holding the cup, not drinking from it, but also not rejecting it. There was a fine line between teasing and care, and you weren’t entirely sure where Rio and Agatha were standing at that moment.

Maybe that uncertainty was what made you hesitate. What exactly did they see in you? Was this subtle infantilization just an expression of affection, or was there something more? Something you hadn’t yet understood?

Agatha, always the impatient one, finally raised her eyes to you and arched a brow. “Are you going to stare at it all day, or are you going to drink?”

Your mouth opened and closed, no immediate response forming. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful. They took care of you. Protected you. But…

Wasn’t this a bit much?

Rio chuckled, tilting her head like someone watching a curious animal trying to learn a new trick. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to drink it, darling.” Her voice was soft, but there was something in it—a challenge? A test?—that made your breath hitch for a second.

You bit your lip, the cup still resting between your hands.

And then, slowly, you lifted the rim to your lips. The warm, sweet liquid slid over your tongue, and despite everything, you couldn’t deny it: the taste of care was good. Very good.

Rio smiled, not even pretending to deny the accusation. You picked up a piece of bread and chewed in silence, watching their exchange.

It was a kind of intimacy that went beyond words or grand gestures. It was in the way Rio knew exactly how Agatha liked her coffee, in the way Agatha didn’t have to ask for Rio to bring her favorite cake.

It was simple. And beautiful.

When they finished eating, Agatha wiped her fingers with a napkin and cast a lazy glance at Rio. “Alright. Who’s giving her a bath?”

You froze, blinking.

“What?” Your voice came out hesitant. “I know how to take a bath.”

Both women completely ignored your remark and, without exchanging another word, extended their hands at the same time, forming closed fists.

You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re not seriously deciding this with rock, paper, scissors.”

They exchanged looks.

“Of course we are,” they answered in unison.

You watched them play the first round, then the second, and then the third. Your eyes darted between them, trying to make sense of it. And then, without warning, you felt something warm spread in your chest.

Their care.

The way they looked after you without hesitation. How they turned even a bath into a moment of attention and affection.

You’d never say it out loud, but it was a thought that made your heart beat differently.

Rio won.

She turned to you, a small but satisfied smile on her lips.

“Come on, little girl. I’ll take care of you.”

And, without really knowing why, you went without question.

The hot water enveloped your skin as you stepped into the bathtub, steam curling softly through the bathroom air.

The scent of lavender and chamomile soap mixed with Rio’s natural fragrance, creating a sense of comfort that slowed your breathing. You sank a little deeper, feeling immersed in the safety of the moment.

Rio stepped in right after, guiding you between her legs, your body warm against hers. Her touch was firm but unhurried. There was an almost ritualistic care in the way she poured water over your shoulders, gently massaging your neck.

Her leg slipped out of the tub, leaving her foot exposed.

And there it was.

The scar on her heel. The black flower tattoo that once had delicate, almost ancient lines now looked darker, as if it had been reinforced recently. You weren’t sure why, but it caught your attention in an inexplicable way.

Your touch was instinctive. The tip of your finger traced the scar, outlining its shape slowly. Rio shivered at your touch, a shiver running through her body. The silence in the bath deepened.

“How did you get this scar?” you asked, your voice coming out softer than you expected, almost hypnotized by the lines of the flower—it fit her perfectly.

Dangerous and deadly.

The woman let out a desperate sigh, her eyelids fluttering like she was relaxed but still unwilling to let go of control. “Darling, don’t touch.”

Rio’s warning tone made you pull away quickly. “Sorry,” you whispered.

She didn’t respond immediately. You felt her fingers glide along your collarbone in a touch that was both absentminded and intentional. Her chocolate eyes remained closed, and for a moment, you wondered if you should press further.

"It's not as interesting as it seems," she said, but her smile was small, carrying something you couldn't name as she caressed your shoulder in the warm water. "I was older than I should have been when I got it. And younger than I would have liked."

You frowned. "That doesn’t make sense."

Rio chuckled softly. "Most things don’t."

"And the tattoo?" you murmured, biting your lip, unsure how to hold back.

She looked at you, then at her own skin, as if seeing it for the first time.

"Funny, isn't it?" Rio tilted her head. "It feels like it vibrates when you touch it." She breathed into your ear, her voice husky, aching for something you didn’t understand.

You squirmed in place, tilting your head toward the woman’s shoulder, your stomach twisting in sudden anxiety, breath thinning, skin heating up in the warm water—you were hot.

"Is that normal?"

She smiled but didn’t answer. She simply brought a wet hand to your nape, pulling you in gently until your lips met hers.

"You ask too many questions, little one."

Rio's hands emerged from the water like claws, gripping your chin with brute strength. Before you could protest, her lips sealed over yours in a kiss that was more annihilation than passion—teeth clashing, tongue invading, the taste of cheap rum and absolute power. You struggled, but her fingers were already climbing your ribs with the hunger of a starved animal.

"Amazing how sensitive you get when I touch you here," she growled against your mouth, fingers heavy with desire sinking into the curve of your hip. The water rocked violently, forming small waves.

Her palms roamed in rough caresses—abdomen, stomach, the base of your breasts—until two fingers closed around your core with complete possession. You gasped, body sliding dangerously downward until the water covered your neck. A ragged moan escaped, swallowing a bitter mouthful that burned your throat.

"Oh." Rio yanked your hair, bringing your face back to the surface. Her arched brows cut through the humid air like knives. "My little girl choked." Her laughter was a low thunder echoing in your ribs. "Want to play drowning games, darling? We can make it easier."

She trapped you from behind in a suffocating embrace, one arm crossing over your chest like a leather collar. Her free hand plunged back between your legs, fingers slithering through your folds with wicked devotion.

"Not so chatty now, are you?" Her voice was a whisper of venom in your right ear. Her teeth closed around the curve of your earlobe with enough force to leave rising marks. "What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

“Mama, please—” you choked on the water, a complete mess. Your eyes watered, your hips restless, desperate to reach whatever she was willing to give.

"Pathetic," she spat, but her dark eyes gleamed with a predator’s pride. "You’re pathetic."

Rio wasn’t one for dirty talk—she was more affectionate with her words, you knew that. Always pulling you onto her lap, calling you “baby,” “puppy,” or “princess.” But now, she was wild.

Her fingers split apart—thumb crushing your clit, index and middle fingers buried inside you, pushing, pushing, pushing. You cried out, the sound of water blending with the obscene wet noises between your legs.

"Just like that..." Her thrusts quickened, water splashing in time with her movements. "Come for me like a good little girl."

When the orgasm shattered you in two, it was soundless, devoid of glory—just violent spasms making the water tremble like an earthquake. Rio held your convulsing body with disdain, tongue licking the salty tears slipping into your mouth.

"Shh, darling..." Rio’s arms tightened around you, soothing you. "I’m going to wash your hair now, okay?" she asked gently. "But you’re going to stay nice and quiet for Mama, aren’t you?" Rio kissed your cheek in a gesture both pacifying and threatening, making you shiver.

You had seen this in Agatha—seeing it in Rio made you feel strange.

With foam gathering between Rio’s fingers as she washed your hair with meticulous care, as if each strand was too precious to be rushed, her eyes half-lidded, her expression softened, almost lost in some distant memory.

The scent of the shampoo was sweet, familiar, and oddly comforting.

"There you go, my girl," Rio murmured, tilting your head back with a gentle touch on your nape. "Now close your little eyes."

You obeyed without thinking, feeling the warm water cascade down your scalp as she rinsed out the lather. The heat, her touch, her tone—everything was intoxicating.

When you opened your eyes again, Rio was already holding a thick, warm towel, fingertips drying the moisture from your face with a tenderness that made something clench in your chest.

She wrapped you in the towel with a firm, secure gesture, lifting you from the tub before you could react.

Her arms held you so effortlessly that, for a moment, you truly felt small.

Rio sat you on her lap beside the bathtub, pressing you against her chest while rubbing your arms and back with the towel.

"You were so good for me..." she whispered against your temple, lips brushing your skin lightly.

The way she said it, with so much affection and approval, made your stomach twist in a way you couldn't explain.

Without realizing it, you nestled closer against her.

She chuckled softly, running her fingers through your damp hair, tracing lazy circles along your back.

"Sleepy?"

You wanted to deny it, but a traitorous yawn escaped before you could stop it. Rio only smiled against your skin.

"None of that, kitten," she said, inhaling the scent of your hair. "No sleeping. You have class soon." Rio ruffled your damp hair with her palms.

You whined, pouting as you curled further into the fluffy towel. "I don’t want to go today."

Rio chuckled, her chest vibrating against your back. "Oh, look at her being all clingy… Almost makes me want to keep you here all day." Her voice was a seductive purr, but you knew you had to go.

Sighing, you pulled away reluctantly, shivering when her arms finally let you go.

As you approached your room, you found Agatha standing at the foot of your bed, the backs of her hands resting against her chin, a calculating look in her eyes.

"The little girl is ready," Rio announced with a smile, still standing behind you. The warmth of her body hadn't completely faded.

Agatha slowly lifted her gaze. "I was looking at her study schedule, and she has a presentation in Lilia's class today."

Your heart made a strange leap in your chest. What? How did she know that? You didn't remember mentioning it. Your professors had no contact with her. You never left academic documents lying around the house. Not even Rio knew your schedule in such detail—or at least, you thought she didn’t.

How did Agatha know the assignment was for Professor Calderu? Did they know each other? Well, thinking about it… Of course, they did. Lilia Calderu was one of the most experienced screenwriters in the industry.

She had worked in both foreign and national cinema. It made sense that they would have some connection, but the real question was: how frequent was their contact?

Uncertainty grew inside you, an almost childish discomfort, as if you were facing an adult who knew more than they should.

"H-how do you know that?" You approached hesitantly, exchanging a glance with Rio, who simply raised an eyebrow, not looking the least bit surprised.

Agatha ignored your question, as if it were irrelevant. As if the answer was beyond your comprehension. "For a presentation, an elegant outfit would be most appropriate." She tilted her head slightly toward Rio. "Rio?"

Her wife smirked. "I think a dress would suit her well."

"Exactly. But it seems she doesn’t have any suitable dresses," Agatha murmured to herself, as if lost in an internal dialogue.

Your face burned with indignation. "I'm fine with the clothes I have." Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but Agatha didn’t even blink.

"Of course, you are, dear." Her tone was indulgent, condescending, as if she were dealing with a child refusing to accept the obvious. "But we can—and will—improve that."

Rio slid an arm around your waist, a comforting touch that did nothing to ease the discomfort growing in your chest. You felt… small. As if you had no control over decisions that concerned even your own wardrobe.

Agatha watched you with calculated interest, her eyes analyzing every reaction. "Since the pool day, I’ve been thinking about this." She made a slight hand gesture, as if resolving something trivial. "We’ll get you something more appropriate. Don’t worry."

Don’t worry? How did she expect you not to worry when they were clearly making decisions about your life without even consulting you?

"I can pick out my own clothes," you insisted, crossing your arms.

The tension in the air stretched for a second until Agatha let out a small smile—something sharp, calculated. "That’s not for you to decide, dear. Not anymore."

Her tone was final, a sentence that allowed no argument. You knew, in that instant, that you had lost.

"Now, mommy is going to pick out a presentable outfit for you, alright?" Agatha met your gaze, a threat disguised under a veneer of affection. The blue of her eyes seemed deeper, almost hypnotic. You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Agatha turned toward the closet, pulling out a well-tailored blazer from her wardrobe, a striped T-shirt, and a pair of mom jeans she knew would go well with your essential Converse sneakers.

She folded the sleeves of the blazer with irritating precision before looking at you again, her eyes scanning your body with a mix of approval and possession. "Hm. Yes, much better now."

The smirk she gave you unraveled you. As if you were a moldable piece in her hands.

Agatha Harkness’s little doll.

While waiting for the women in the living room, you scrolled absentmindedly through your Instagram feed. Photos of old friends from WestView. Celebrities. Cat videos. And then, pictures of Rio at the exhibition. The plunging red dress. The sheen of the fabric caressing her golden skin.

You licked your lips at the memory of how she had cornered you in the bathroom that night. How she had come undone on your thigh, frantic and insatiable.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you from your thoughts. You waited for a moment, expecting one of the staff to answer, but realized you were closer. With a sigh, you walked over and opened the door.

"Wanda?"

Your heart stumbled inside your chest. Your trembling hands gripped the fabric of your jeans.

Wanda took a step forward, crossing the threshold without waiting for an invitation, trapping you with her overwhelming presence. The air around her seemed to hum with electricity.

"Intern… you’re here again," she murmured, her tone carrying a veiled disdain, but also a hint of surprise. You felt your breath hitch.

"Is Agatha hiring household staff now, too?" She twirled her index finger, subtly motioning toward the surroundings, her green eyes scanning you with unsettling intensity.

"N-no. I’m here to—"

Your mind spun, trying to come up with a plausible excuse, anything to justify your presence. But before you could finish, Wanda shoved you against the nearby pillar.

Your body froze.

Her green eyes never left yours. "You reek of them, you know that, right?"

Her voice was a cutting whisper. Her gaze sharp, dissecting every detail of your face. Measuring your energy. Deciphering exactly what you had become.

Your throat tightened. What could you even say? Your mind scrambled desperately for something—anything—but then—

"Maximoff."

Agatha’s voice sliced through the air like a blade.

You hadn’t even noticed her arrival, but there she was.

Arms crossed, jaw clenched. The absolute control reflected in the steadiness of her tone, but you knew her eyes too well. The blue shades took on a greenish glow, a restrained fury simmering just beneath the surface.

Wanda turned slowly, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her hands trembled slightly, and her quickened breath betrayed urgency. "We need to talk."

Her tone was dry, direct.

Agatha’s face remained impassive, but her entire body told a different story. You saw her fists clench, the subtle tension in her shoulders. A silent war waged between these two women, where every move was calculated.

Then, footsteps echoed against the marble floor. Rio.

She stopped beside you, but what once felt like comforting warmth now felt like a shield. Her dark brown eyes landed on Wanda, and upon noticing her proximity to you, something in her posture shifted.

Her body tensed, the muscles in her jaw shifting beneath her skin as her gaze darkened.

"Come to my office," Agatha ordered, already turning away, as if there were no room for debate.

Wanda hesitated for a second before following her, shoulders rigid.

You watched as they disappeared down the hallway, your chest still rising and falling too fast.

Rio’s voice came soft but firm. "Wait for us in the living room, sweetheart. We’ll be right back."

Her tone was reassuring but left no room for objections.

You simply nodded, but even when the women vanished from sight, the feeling of Wanda’s gaze on you still burned against your skin.

The silence in the room felt amplified by the anxious tapping of your fingers against the armrest of the couch.

Your heart hadn’t slowed since Wanda disappeared down the hallway with Agatha and Rio.

What were they discussing?

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything else—the distant sound of the clock on the wall, even the way the daylight cast sunrays across the room. Did you ruin everything?

A part of you wanted to get up, press your ear against the office door, and listen to what they were saying. But the fear of being caught—of facing Agatha’s fury or Rio’s silent frustration—kept you rooted in place.

Time seemed to stretch cruelly. You imagined what was happening in there. Wanda looked uneasy. That much was obvious. But what about Agatha? And Rio? What were they saying? And, most importantly… was it your fault?

You didn’t know Wanda. Your first interaction had been intimidating, cold. You knew the women had had a professional relationship for years. But… this? This was beyond any professional scope.

Your stomach twisted at the memory of how she had shoved you against the pillar.

The click of the doorknob echoed through the house.

You straightened immediately, your body rigid as firm footsteps sounded against the floor.

Agatha was the first to walk out, her face impassive, gaze distant. Then came Rio, her expression carefully controlled, but you caught the moment her eyes met yours for a brief second. Something dark passed through them.

And then, Wanda.

She walked with slow, calculated steps, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with that same critical look that burned you from the inside out.

As she passed by, she leaned slightly to grab her bag, but it was enough for her to whisper, voice low, sharp as a blade:

"You don’t know what you’re playing with."

A cold shiver ran down your spine.

Before you could react, Wanda was already walking away, her red hair swaying as she crossed the front door without looking back.

Silence stretched, suffocating.

You blinked a few times, your chest rising and falling unevenly.

When you turned to Agatha and Rio in search of some explanation, all you found was a knowing look exchanged between them.

Then Agatha made a subtle gesture, and one of the staff members quickly approached, handing her a small dark fabric pouch. She held it for a moment before extending it toward you.

"What is this?" You frowned, taking the pouch carefully. It was light but had enough weight to spark your curiosity.

The woman cleared her throat discreetly, averting her eyes for a moment. You noticed the sudden redness creeping up her neck as if she was uncomfortable.

"I won’t be able to take you to college today." Her tone was firm, but there was something else there, something slipping past her usual controlled voice. "I have something to take care of."

Your heart sank. You were already used to your morning conversations—the way she always commented on her schedule, the way she drove in silence while the radio played softly, her presence there, always.

You hurried to respond, wanting to make it clear that it was okay. "It’s fine, I can walk to the bus stop and—"

"Don’t be silly, dear." The interruption was quick, almost irritated. But then, with another discreet throat clearing, her tone softened, as if correcting herself. "I won’t take you, but Ralph will be available."

You bit your lip, looking at the small pouch in your hands. Something inside shifted slightly when you squeezed the fabric between your fingers.

When you opened it, you found a carefully wrapped sandwich, a chocolate bar, a peach juice, and… small fruit pieces cut into cute shapes. The kind of thing no one would bother preparing unless they were, in some way, trying to make up for an absence.

You lifted your gaze to Agatha, who had already looked away, adjusting the sleeve of her blazer as if she were too busy to notice your reaction. But it was a lie.

She felt.

She felt much more than she showed.

And knowing that made your heart race.

A honk pulled you both out of that trance. Standing up, you left the house, the women bidding you farewell at the door.

As you got into the car, Ralph greeted you with a nod. The man was quiet, but there was kindness in his eyes.

The car engine hummed softly as Ralph drove through the still-sleepy city streets. You sank into the seat, your gaze lost in the moving scenery, but nothing truly held your attention. Everything felt muffled, distant.

The weight of the small fabric pouch rested on your lap. You ran your fingers over the material, feeling its soft texture under your fingertips, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

Your mommies had left you.

The thought was absurd, selfish, childish, but you couldn’t shake it off. This car didn’t smell like Agatha’s, nor did it have Rio husky voice humming along to some ABBA song.

It was cold, impersonal. It wasn’t fair.

You sighed, resting your forehead against the window, watching the city blur past. They had something to take care of. But what? Something important enough to pull them away from you so early in the morning? You had barely left, and you already missed them, a warm, uncomfortable ache opening in your chest.

Ralph cleared his throat, his eyes briefly checking you in the rearview mirror before returning to the road.

"Are you okay?" The question was casual, but there was a hint of concern in it.

You hesitated before answering, your voice small. "Just tired."

He didn’t press further, only giving a slight nod, but his gaze told you that he knew. He knew it wasn’t just exhaustion.

You clutched the pouch to your chest, almost as if for comfort, knowing that inside were the small, silent proofs that Agatha was still thinking of you, even when she couldn’t be there. Still… it wasn’t the same.

You wanted them.

The warmth of Rio’s hand brushing against yours, Agatha’s low, teasing voice echoing as she drove. The possessive gaze. The firm touch. The suffocating, sweet comfort of belonging to them.

The world felt a little less safe without your mommies.

[…]

The professor’s voice echoed through the room, but his words reached you like a muffled buzz, distant, shapeless, meaningless. You were physically there, seated at your desk, eyes fixed on your laptop screen, but your mind wandered far away.

Your fingers trailed over your neck, feeling the cool texture of the choker. The cold silver against your skin, the subtle weight of the lock pendant resting just above your collarbone. The silent symbol of who you belonged to.

You held the small lock between your fingers, slowly turning it, pressing it against your lips without realizing it. Closing your eyes for a moment.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost smell Rio’s perfume surrounding you, feel Agatha’s overwhelming presence consuming your senses. Your chest tightened. The need grew like a knot in your throat.

You wanted to see them. You needed them.

Then, your phone vibrated on the desk. The discreet sound made your heart leap, your breath catching for a brief second before you reached for the device. Your eyes scanned the screen.

Message from Rio:

"Baby, have you eaten yet?"

Air escaped your lungs in a shaky sigh. Baby. Your stomach twisted. You felt the weight of the affection in her words, the concern disguised as a simple reminder. She knew you didn’t care about that when you were alone. She knew your little world felt less structured without them around.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, about to reply. But then, something inside you hesitated.

Your mind flashed back to Wanda—green, opaque eyes filled with an unfamiliar glint. Her words.

"You don’t know what you’re playing with."

What was that?

You didn’t choose any of this. And yet, she made it seem like you did.

You bit your lip, turning your gaze back to the message. Your throat burned, your eyes stung with something you didn’t want to name. Not now.

You pressed the side button on your phone. The screen went black.

Off.

Swallowing dryly, you placed the device on the table and straightened your posture, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You needed to focus. You had a presentation to give.

But as the professor called your name and Alice’s, and you both stood up, the cold lock against your skin was an unsettling reminder. A weight, an anchor, an invisible chain pulling you back to them.

You had to do this.

The room was full, yet all you could hear was your own breathing. Alice stood beside you, her fingers drumming discreetly against the side of her pants—a nervous tic you had come to recognize.

Professor Calderu, with her sharp gaze and the air of someone who had seen it all, crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly.

“So, girls, what have you prepared for us?”

Alice shot you a quick glance before clearing her throat.

“Well… Our character isn’t exactly a hero. But she’s not a villain either. She’s more like—”

“A force of nature.” You finished, your voice sounding steadier than you felt inside.

Alice nodded, excited. “Yes! She’s a witch who survives by draining people’s life energy through sex. But not out of cruelty. Not by choice. It’s simply the only way for her to exist. A survival.”

Some people in the room shifted in their seats. All attention was now on you two.

“She’s charismatic,” you continued, gesturing with your hands. “The kind of character you can’t hate, even knowing she could destroy you.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s her weakness?”

Alice smiled as if she had been waiting for that question.

“She’s always had control over everything and everyone. Until she meets someone immune to her power.”

The silence that followed stretched too long. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the class’s expectations.

“And that destabilizes her,” you added. “Because it means that, for the first time, she doesn’t know what to do. She can’t drain him, can’t push him away, can’t control him. This person truly sees her. Beyond the myth. Beyond the threat. And that… That terrifies her.”

The professor was quiet for a moment. Then, a slow, enigmatic smile appeared on her lips.

“Really interesting,” she murmured, crossing her legs. “And what is this supposed to tell us about her?”

Alice exchanged a quick glance with you before answering.

“Maybe what keeps her alive isn’t just what she takes from others. But also… what she fears losing.”

The professor tilted her head, considering. “A complex character, navigating between desire and danger. I like that.”

Your heart pounded, but you held your posture. Alice, beside you, seemed alight with restless energy.

The professor rested her elbows on the table.

“Alright, ladies. I want to see how you develop this.”

The class’s focus slowly dissipated, but adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. You looked at Alice, who was biting the corner of her lips, her eyes gleaming.

The bell rang, making you stand up, gathering your materials clumsily. Alice stepped closer, a wide, refined smile on her lips. “We were amazing, weren’t we?”

You smiled, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yes, I think our grade will be more than enough for the semester. Amen. I just want to rest,” you finished with a hoarse chuckle.

“Are you okay?” she asked suddenly.

You frowned. “What? Why do you ask?”

You walked out of the room, heading down the hallway.

“You seem… distant.” She matched your pace, her sharp, cat-like eyes analyzing you.

“I’m just tired. Working for Agatha is more exhausting than it seems.” You gave her a half-smile.

“Actually, it seems exactly like it is.” Her gaze flickered away from yours for a moment, landing on the choker around your neck. Alice bit her lips, nervous, as if hesitating. “And what is she like?” she finally asked, shifting her weight to the other leg.

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. “Agatha? Tough, strict, loves to push.” Your fingers instinctively traced the pendant on your choker. “She’s perfect.”

That’s when you realized you had stopped in the courtyard. Ralph was there, leaning against the car, waiting.

You turned to Alice, ready to say goodbye, but found her staring at you—intense, hesitant. As if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“Do you want to go out?” The quiet, timid voice caught you off guard.

“What?”

“Go out. There’s a party at Billy’s tomorrow. You should come, it’ll be fun.” Alice blurted it all out at once, then quickly walked away.

And you just stood there, trying to process what had just happened.

What was happening?

Things were moving too fast, and it overwhelmed you, drained you. You just wanted to lie in bed with Lucky by your side and watch some dumb Disney movie. Any of them. As long as it made you forget the insane day you’d had.

You felt weak, sluggish. So you walked slowly to the car.

“Hey, Ralph. Seems like I’m taking up a lot of your schedule, huh?” You tried to joke, offering a weak smile.

“I’m just doing my job, miss.” He opened the door for you. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“I think I just need to sleep better, that’s all.” That seemed to be enough for Ralph, who simply nodded before starting the car.

The vehicle’s smooth motion and the distant hum of the city were enough to make your body relax. You closed your eyes. Maybe you even dozed off because the next sound you heard was the sharp slam of a door being thrown open.

A sudden wave of heat washed over you.

Rio.

She was there, standing beside the car, her eyes burning like live embers. Her face was tense, her eyebrows drawn together in an expression that made your heart race.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask anything. She just picked you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing, and carried you inside.

The light in the room felt too bright as Rio set you down on the couch, her arms lingering around you for a second longer than necessary before she stepped back. Her dark eyes scanned your face, searching for an answer you couldn’t give.

“You turned off your phone.” Her voice was a blade—sharp and low.

You barely had time to process before firm footsteps echoed through the room. Agatha appeared beside her, arms crossed, her gaze ice-cold.

“Explain yourself.”

You blinked, your throat dry. "I... I just needed some time."

"Time?" Her tone sent a chill down your spine, as if you had spoken the greatest absurdity in the world. "Are you even listening to yourself right now?"

You curled up on the couch, feeling small.

"We were worried about you! We even had to—"

"Rio." Agatha interrupted Rio’s speech and took a deep breath. "Enough. I'm sure she already knows all of this." Her gaze turned to you, piercing, merciless. Then her long fingers slid toward your bag.

Your stomach sank.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She unzipped it and, among your belongings, found the small lunchbox she had prepared for you in the morning.

Untouched.

The air in the room felt heavy. You saw Agatha's jaw tighten. The silence was suffocating.

Then, without ceremony, she turned the lunchbox upside down. The dry sound of food hitting the floor echoed through the room, each piece of fruit and sandwich scattered before you like a silent accusation.

It was dramatic. Precise. Nothing could have been more cinematic, you thought.

She stepped back, the disappointment in her eyes made you choke. The look she gave you trusted that you knew what needed to be done—and you failed.

Damn. It hurt. And it hurt like hell!

Tears welled up uncontrollably in your eyes, and all you wanted to do was kneel and apologize to them. You were bad. Irresponsible. The blame was all yours.

But Agatha wasn't looking at you anymore. She turned, walking to the stairs, and her voice came out in a firm, unquestionable murmur: "Go up. Take your pants off and wait face down on the bed."

Your body tensed. The command was simple. Definite.

You looked at Rio for something—a trace of softness, perhaps. But she was already heading upstairs, without hesitation, as if she knew it was necessary.

You stood trembling on the couch, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your body already reacting before your mind could accept it. You knew what awaited you.

But you trusted them.

They knew how to handle you. How to shape you, how to sculpt you with experienced hands.

You were a blank canvas, a screen waiting to be filled with each brushstroke of theirs.

And when the punishment came, when each touch, each word, each correction was etched on your skin and in your mind, you knew that, in the end, you would be more and more complete.

~*~

Congrats! You've survived!! Happy women's day, my shoo shoo! I love you all, my babies! I hope you've liked the gift heheh

Inspired by Neighborly Cared by: @d-z20

Tag List <3

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[spirit-lanterns]

THIRST COMMENTS 2

synopsis: (celebrity AU) your girlfriend get's jealous when she reads your thirst comments. (part 2/2) part 1 here.

featuring: kafka, himeko, serval, yukong, topaz

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, jealous s.ex, cunnlingus (reader giving and receiving), pet names, slight degradation (use of whore in kafka's), rough s.ex, semi-public s.ex (himeko), possessiveness, lap s.ex, fin.gering, handcuffs, use of vib.rators, mating press, strap ons, doggy style, might be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: bad thinking diary

KAFKA

“You liked all that attention, huh? You liked it when all your fans were thirsting over you on the web?” 

Kafka scoffs and bites her lip, keeping a firm hand on your scalp as she pushes you further into her skirt. The exasperated gasp that spilled past your lips pleased your girlfriend greatly while she listened to you with a grin, as Kafka couldn’t help but satiate her jealousy by making you remember just who exactly your lover was.

“Ooh, a new comment. Let’s see what it reads, shall we?” She drums her fingers against the top of your head and groans when she feels your tongue lap eagerly over her clit. You two had just gotten off the filming of the “thirst comments” video that would be uploaded to some popular celebrity news channel, but Kafka found herself growing envious over just how many of your fans lusted for you all over the internet. 

The moment you two stepped into Kafka’s private limousine, she had you pushed down on your knees in front of her, one hand guiding you to peel her panties off from her skirt with your teeth, and the other hand reaching for her phone so she could read some of the other comments thirsting about you from Twitter. 

“Anonymous said: I think (Reader)’s moans would be the cutest thing to listen to. I’m practically wet just thinking about it.”

Kafka chuckles when she finishes reading that thirst comment out loud, gripping your scalp a bit harder and causing you to moan. 

“My, my…the commenter was right. Your moans are the cutest thing to ever listen to. In fact, I think I feel myself getting a bit wet, don’t you feel it?” She grits her teeth and yanks your hair up a little to see the glistening sheen of her pussy juices smeared around your face. The sight makes Kafka groan with pleasure, a wave of possession filling her chest as she pushes you back down to continue eating her out. “Mmpf…such a good girl…she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

Kafka scrolls a bit further through her Twitter feed, eyes landing on another comment that sends another pang of jealousy through her heart. 

“Anonymous said: I’d drink up (Reader) till there’s nothing leaking out.” 

Kafka grits her teeth at that and subconsciously pushes your head a bit deeper into her cunt. She revels in the way you writhe and squeak, gripping her thighs in your hands as you lap up her cum so eagerly. “Really? They want to drink you up till there’s nothing left? Hah…if only they knew that you were the one who is lapping up my juices so thirstily. You needy girl…”

She smirks and cups your face to pull you up and meet her lips in a sloppy kiss. You’ve never seen Kafka so…possessive in all your time of dating her, yet you’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting turned on at the thought of it. Normally she’s much more in control of her emotions, yet ever since you finished the filming of the thirst comments video, Kafka had been a little out of it till you got to the car.

“One more…let’s read another thirst comment about you, hmm? See what all your fans have to say about a cute whore like you.” Kafka chuckles and her eyes practically glow at this one particular comment. One hand reaching down to grope your ass possessively, while the other clicks on the comment to see it enlarged.

“Anonymous said: (Reader) is just so cute and innocent. I want to make her cum on my fingers until her voice goes hoarse and she’s crying for more.”

Kafka tsks at this and pulls you closer onto your lap, causing you to yelp. “Cute and innocent…” she repeats in a low, husky voice. “Well that’s far from what I see right in front of me.”

She chuckles darkly and snakes her fingers down to your pants, teasing you through the cloth before whispering into your ear. “I bet I can make you cry far, far better than that fan of yours…wouldn’t you agree?”

“Y…Yes…Kafka.” You murmur quietly, breath hitching when she kisses your neck. 

“Good girl. I’ll make you cum better than any idolizer in the world. You are mine to devour…”

HIMEKO

“Hmm…I really didn’t expect your fans to be so bold, my love.” 

Behind the set of the video “thirst comments” Himeko was currently pinning you up against the wall with her thigh slotted in between your legs. Though filming took place not too long ago, it seems as if Himeko has gotten just a tad bit jealous when she heard you reading off all your thirst comments for your portion of the video. 

So now, here you were with your passively jealous girlfriend clinging to you while the staff and crew of the set chatted idly not too far away. Though they couldn’t see where Himeko had you pinned up, if you made any loud noises, they’d be immediately alerted to your proximity. 

“Let’s read one of your beloved thirst comments, shall we? Just to remind you of what you remember.” 

Himeko purrs and hands you her phone, allowing you to open up her Twitter and see the mass amounts of thirst comments clogging up her feed. “Go on, read one…” Himeko murmurs, pushing you back against the wall as she begins sensually rubbing up your thigh. 

“Ah…mmpf…@/servalisms said: not even a guillotine could take away the head I’m about to give (Reader)…”

Though very creative and honestly quite flattering, you gulped and looked up to see your girlfriend staring down at you, with eyes that seemed clouded by something you could not decipher. “H…Himeko?” You murmured in a softer tone. 

“Pffh! Quite creative your fans are, hm?” She gave you a teasing smirk, before suddenly dropping down on her knees in front of you.

“Ah! H-Himeko—”

“Just keep reading, darling. Keep reading those little thirst comments of yours and I’ll show you just how good my head game is for you sweet little pussy.” She suddenly pulled your pants down to part your thighs with her hands, nudging your panties with her nose and evoking a series of stifled little whimpers. “Come on…don’t be shy…”

She chuckles and continues prodding you for more access to your pussy. Leaving you no other choice but to continue reading as per request from your girlfriend. 

“Anonymous said: the way I’d fuck (Reader) in every position is wi— AH!” 

You didn’t even get to finish reading the thirst comment before Himeko suddenly plunged her tongue in to lap at your folds behind the thin, scantily fabric of your already dampening underwear. It was getting increasingly harder to focus on the pixelated words as Himeko just kept pushing against you with more force. Breaths hitching at the way she began losing control in your body…

“Every position? If only they knew your favorite position to be is under me,” Himeko chuckles, hiding the envy behind her golden eyes before planting a sweet kiss to your inner thigh. The sight of her rosy red lipstick left a faint imprint on the surface of your skin, and it left you feeling breathless with the way your normally composed girlfriend was beginning to show her true colors. 

“Keep reading,” Himeko all but purrs, voice almost a throaty growl when she pulls your underwear down. “If you can’t even read the words on the screen, I’d say it’s a job well done for me.” 

You gulped and shakily looked down to read another Twitter comment. Eyes blurring between the lines, but managing to focus on one singular post. 

“@/sinsmockingbird said: (Reader) is so cute and beautiful. I just want to bend them over the table and completely ruin them till they’re a crying mess.” 

It was difficult to read every word properly —given by how hard your thighs were shaking— but when you looked down, you saw Himeko biting her lip and staring rather intently at your cunt. It was kinda embarrassing to witness, but confused as to why she suddenly stopped her teasing, you gently tapped on the side of her cheek.

“Himeko…? Did I say something wrong?” Your thighs immediately buckled when Himeko dove her tongue in to press firmly against your hole, reveling in the way it twitched and puckered while your wobbly little legs tried so desperately to keep you upright. A small whine left your throat at the feeling of your girlfriend starting to go to town on you, eating you out with her hands gripped firmly on your thighs, while the tip of her tongue split you open with groans riveting from Himeko’s voice. 

“God…you truly have no idea do you,” the usually calm woman exhales, diving back in to taste your juices while you buck your hips rather pathetically into her face. “If only your fans knew I was the one bending you over each night. The one making you cry until your tears have clouded you blind.”

As if to prove her point, Himeko suddenly nibbles against your clit and forces a small cry from your lips. 

“So delightful, your noises are.” Himeko chuckles, staring up at you with a lustful gaze that kept you pinned under the redhead’s touch. 

“I hope you always remember just how good your girlfriend pleases you.”

SERVAL

“Aghhhh, I knew your fans were down bad for you, but I had no idea they were this down bad.” 

Serval chuckles rather hastily, but the envy was green in her eyes that once shown bright blue. Your girlfriend had tried to contain her jealousy after the recent filming of your “thirst comments” video, yet when your portion of the video came up —aka it was your turn to read thirst comments from fans— Serval was making it very obvious that she was jealous from the get go. 

Well, it’s not like your girlfriend was that good of an actress in the first place. She was a singer, not an actor, and it resulted in some of her emotions spilling over after the filming, because suddenly you were locked up in Serval’s dressing room, on her lap, and on her couch while she lazily fingers you. 

“Ah…shit, you’re so tight baby…” Serval groans, keeping an eye on her dressing room door while your soft, quiet whimpers play in her ear. Your phone sat idly in your hand as you could barely focus on the text on screen, your girlfriend pummeling her fingers inside you and distracting you from the task at hand.

“A…Anonymous said: I would let (Reader) peg me, no fucks given—”

You clamped your free hand over your mouth to stifle a loud moan as you felt the tips of Serval’s long fingers hitting that spongy spot inside you. Though pleasurable, this felt like torture to you while Serval laughed aimlessly and twisted her fingers around to see you writhe. “Peg me? As if this sweet thing could ever peg anyone in her life.” Serval chuckles and thrusts her fingers a bit faster, the middle and ring fingers of her right hand pumping so steadily into your cunt. “Come on, let’s read the next comment. Don’t tell me you’re at your limit yet.”

Serval kisses the navel of your neck and smirks up at you with that cocky expression she always had. Driven forward by her sloppy thrusts, you groaned and narrowed your eyes to focus on the screen in your hand, before latching onto Serval so you wouldn’t accidentally tip over.

“@/the-voxinton-tavern said: (Reader) played her role in her newest horror movie so well! I’d just want to see her legs shaking in a different context.”

Serval scoffs at this before giving your outer right thigh a soft slap to the skin, causing you to yelp and nearly jump out of your girlfriend’s lap. “I’ll have your legs shaking so much you’d be clinging to me to carry you out of this room.” Serval husks, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Aha…well at the pace we’re going at, you’ll be achieving your goal v-very soon…” you mumble, an attempt at making a light joke falling on deaf ears. 

“I know. No one knows your body more than I do.” Serval whispers, pushing your body up higher as she forces a third finger in to fill you up even more. At the sudden stretch of your girlfriend’s three fingers all attempting to fit inside you, you buckled your hips forward and gasped, clutching onto the singer’s sweaty shoulders. “S-Serval! Not too quickly—”

“It’s okay, it’ll fit. You’ve taken so many bigger things up you before.” Serval grins, nudging your cheek with her nose. “Alright, let’s read the last thirst comment. Read it all the way through and maybe I’ll let you cum.”

“Maybe?!” You groaned and glared at your girlfriend with a somewhat pouty expression. 

“Maybe.” Serval grinned, teasingly kissing your nose and urging you to read the next comment. 

“Anonymous said: if (Reader) ever needs a chair, my face is readily available 🤭”

Serval actually laughs at this and suddenly slides her fingers out of your cunt, hoisting you up in those strangely strong arms of hers, and placing you down on the couch to crawl over you in a pinning position. 

“If (Reader) ever needs a chair?” Serval tilts her head, a devious smirk on the blonde woman’s face. “Why would you ever need to sit on something other than my lap, babygirl?”

You whine when she suddenly thrusts her fingers back in and causes a cacophony of moans to slip past your lips. Suddenly Serval is faster, harder, and her fingers are starting to plunge further up into your folds, causing you to arch your back and nearly scream. 

“You’re so fucking hot…” Serval curses, pulling you closer before bringing you closer and closer to your impending orgasm. “I’m so glad that you’re mine.” 

And as if to prove her point, she thrusts her hand till the palm slaps wonderfully against your clit, causing a small squirt of cum to drip past and coat her already slick fingers.  “That’s my good fucking girl…” Serval groans, pulling her fingers out to clean them with her tongue. “My good fucking girl…”

YUKONG

“This generation is rather prude with their flirts, hm? That’s no way to pick up a lady…”

Yukong tsks her tongue at the particular thirst comment she sees regarding you and your body. Though thirst comments are almost always a joke within the celebrity community and space, Yukong being of the older generation, was not pleased at the slightest to see how her girlfriend was ogled at and thirsted over on the internet. 

Especially to this degree.

“@/lindseynguyen said: (Reader) can step on me with her heels and I’ll thank her for it.” 

Yukong narrows her eyes at the thirst before sighing and looking down at you. “Honestly, how masochistic can your fans be, dear? I’m starting to believe you could punch them and they’d get turned on, don’t you agree?”

You’d respond, of course, if not for the fact that you were currently handcuffed to the hotel bed with one of Yukong’s personal vibrators stuffed up your hole. Ever since you two had left the set of the thirst comments video to head back to your hotel room, Yukong had you handcuffed to the post of the bed, sliding her hidden vibrator out of her suitcase so that she could shove it up your cunt for “discipline.” Apparently, for as old and wide as Yukong could be, she was still capable of getting jealous, evident with her rough treatment of you the moment you stepped foot in your suite. 

“Darling? Oh, that’s right. You can’t even speak, just moan like the needy girl you are, so desperate for my command.” Yukong strokes a gentle hand across your face, wiping the overstimulated tears from your eyes and giving you a kiss. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish soon enough, then you can get the glorious orgasm you so desperately crave.” 

Yukong grins and glances back down at her phone. 

“@/chamomillecamille said: (Reader) would NOT be able to hide if we were in a hotel together. The way I’d be screaming her name.”

Yukong raises a brow at this, before chuckling and turning up the vibrations of the toy. “Oh, how ironic isn’t that, my love?” She traces a small drip of precum sliding from your inner thigh, before scooping it up with her finger and licking it. “The fact that I have you tied up and fucked in a hotel room at the moment…I bet Camille would be seething that she can’t savor this.”

As the vibrations of the toy are turned up, the buzz pulsing through your sensitive walls increases and causes you to close your thighs out of pure pleasure. A whine leaks past your throat, alerting Yukong to your now closed position and causing her to tsk at the sight. 

“My darling, I thought we went over this. Legs stay open during your punishment.” 

Yukong moved your thighs back into their spread position on the bed, eying the way the pastel blue vibrator was now covered in your slick and lube. You caught the older woman drooling a bit, saliva pooling behind her canines before she swallows and moves closer to adjust the shaking toy. 

“So wet…it’s almost slipping right out…” she pushes the toy back deeper into its original position, smiling at the way you could barely keep it together. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Last one, I promise. No more teasing.”

She playfully flicks the clit of your swollen, sensitive cunt before diving her eyes back to the faded screen. 

“Anonymous said: I want (Reader) to break my back like a glowstick.” 

The older woman chuckles quite amusedly at this, picturing the thought before sliding the dripping wet vibrator out with a pop. “Breaking backs like a glowstick? Wouldn’t that hurt, though?” Yukong tilts her head and smirks at the way you whine with how she tore away your orgasm from you. “If anything, I think your back would be the one broken, my dear.”

She hoists you up by the waist and props your legs up over her lap to get a better view of your sensitive, glistening folds. Using her two thumbs, she spreads them open apart and can’t help but let out a throaty grunt. 

“All mine…to think this sweet woman is all mine…”

Pushing your legs forward suddenly, you nearly cry when she pushes your legs down in a position you find yourself in countless times before. A mating press. 

“Here, let me show you just how good I could break you.” Yukong purrs, the soft, older woman figure now gone and replaced with someone much more dominant. “I hope all these guests hear just how loud you are when I’m done with you.”

TOPAZ

“Heh, to think I had so much competition vying for your love, babe.”

Topaz raises a brow while reading a particular thirst comment about you on her phone. Normally she’d be more focused on you at the moment —given by how she was currently fucking 7 inches of her strap on into your cunt, doggy style— yet it seemed as if your girlfriend was focused on more…trivial affairs, as she was more upset over the fact that fans were getting pretty possessive over you, rather than the fact that you were buck naked and grinding on her.

“Anonymous said: TELL TOPAZ TO BACK AWAY. (Reader) is mine and mine only.” 

Your girlfriend narrowed her eyes at this and gave a particularly hard thrust with her hips. “Pfft, wow, jealous much?” Topaz traced the palms of her hands over your ass and gave the soft, rear ends a harsh squeeze. “I mean, we aren’t even officially dating when it comes to the public, is our relationship that obvious on screen?” 

You attempted to answer, but with the way Topaz was grinding the thick shaft against your insides, pulling any word or sound out of you to turn into a moan, had you practically speechless as you were left face planting into your pillow.

“I mean, we do flirt and touch each other sometimes on camera, but I mean come on…” she continued her shallow thrusts and pressed firm nail indents into your sides. “Just listen to this one baby, just listen to it.” 

“@/lenzxii said: The way I would let (Reader) literally fuck me until my only coherent thought is her, step on me, beat the dog shit out of me, abuse me, run me over with her car, carve her name in my thigh, let her use any hole she wanted, cheat on me, rob me, steal my shit, kidnap me and I’ll still say thank you for blessing me with your presence.”

Somehow Topaz said all of that under one breath, eyes practically popping out of their sockets as she had to take a quick moment to reread the absolute unit of a thirst comment about her girlfriend. “Lord almighty, babe, your fans are practically ravenous over you.” 

“Go…Go figure…” you mumble out in a grunt, noticing how Topaz was starting to slow down with her thrusts, as she was beginning to get distracted with her Twitter feed. “Topazzzzz…please move faster…”

“Hm? Oh, Aha…you want me to go faster? What, do you need me that bad?”

“Yes!” You exclaim almost immediately, now slightly annoyed that she was focusing more on her phone, than you. “You wanted to fuck me because you were jealous so act like it! Stop staring at that phone like it’s your girlfriend, I’m your girlfriend!”

You pouted up at her and gave her the cutest, neediest eyes Topaz had ever seen on a woman, causing her to blush and nearly drop her phone on the bed. “Ah…fuck. You really are cute when you look at me like that…” she chuckles, gripping your hips tighter and repositioning her angle for a better thrust game. “Alright, alright…just don’t pout at me like that. You’ll make me feel bad for putting you here.”

She leans forward and kisses each of your shoulders, starting up her thrusts again before glancing at her phone one last time. 

“Okay, I know I said I’d pay attention to you for now on, but this thirst is funny.”

“@/melodazeee said: literally need (Reader) to be elbow deep and braiding my guts 😍🙏”

Topaz snickers at this, before moving her hips back and forth behind you and pushing the tip of her shaft deeper till you were practically split. “Elbow deep and braiding your guys, huh?” The image is so funny for Topaz, as she could never imagine her sweet and cute girlfriend rearranging someone’s guts. “Oh how different reality is, huh babe?” 

She wraps her arms around your stomach and could practically feel the small belly bulge she was giving you, every time she pistoned in and out with her cock. The sight of you creaming around her hips and staining the sheets with your juices almost too much for Topaz to handle. 

“Fuck…if only I could show the world how hot your face and moans are when I take you…” she groans, before keeping you locked against her body. Breasts pushing languidly against your back while Topaz begins toying with your clit with her fingers. 

“I wish I could tell the world how it’s me making you scream behind the scenes…but at least you know it’s only me. That’s all I really need…”

[dreameyess11]

Good father

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Anakin Skywalker stood by the window, looking out into the starry expanse of space. The distant stars twinkled like tiny pinpoints of hope. But in his heart, a storm raged. His past was a web of regret, pain, and loss, but now the future loomed before him with hope. Two little lives. Two precious twins. Luke and Leia.

The faint sound of their soft cries drifted in from the other room. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the sound with a tenderness that surprised even him. He wasn't used to that kind of love, the pure, unwavering devotion a father felt for his children. His thoughts drifted back to the first time he'd held them in his arms, their tiny faces wrinkled in confusion and wonder. They were perfect, a reflection of his redemption, and yet he felt unworthy of them.

As the days passed, Anakin found himself struggling with the idea of fatherhood. His life as a Jedi had never prepared him for this—he had been trained to fight, to serve, to protect, but never to care. Yet there he was, standing on the threshold of a new beginning, wanting to be the best father he could be.

He heard footsteps behind him. A soft, warm presence enveloped him like a comforting blanket. Anakin turned to find her standing there—his wife, his mate, his love. The woman who had helped him find the light again.

You smiled, your eyes filled with quiet strength. “They’re hungry,” you said softly.

Anakin nodded, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I want to help… but I’m not sure how.”

You walked to his side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re already doing that,” you assured him. “Just by being here, by wanting to be involved, you’re already showing them how much you care about them.”

He smiled, grateful for your words, though doubts still lingered in his heart. They had always shared a deep connection, one that had been forged in both passion and struggle. But now they were parents, and there was no guide to tell him what to do. He could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but there was something else, too, something more powerful than the fear that had once controlled him. It was love.

As they entered the nursery, Anakin took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his son’s blanket. Luke’s small hand curled around his finger, and the world seemed to slow down, leaving only the warmth of that small hand. Leia, wrapped up next to her brother, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Anakin admitted quietly, his voice filled with vulnerability. “But I want to try. I want to be a good father to them.”

You stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You already are. They will grow up knowing your love, your strength, and your heart. That is all they need.”

Anakin nodded, feeling the weight of your words settle in his chest. It wasn’t about being perfect, it was about being there, showing up every day, even when doubts clouded his mind. He had once feared his own ability to love, thinking it was a weakness that would destroy him. But now, with Luke and Leia in his arms, he realized it was his greatest strength.

The sound of the twins’ cries soon filled the room again, and Anakin smiled softly, his heart filling with tenderness. He was no longer the young Jedi who had once struggled to control his emotions. He had learned that love, in its purest form, was not something to be feared, it was something to be embraced.

Together, they cared for their children that night, and in every tender touch and every glance shared between them, Anakin knew that this was where he belonged. He was no longer alone. And for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to truly be a father.

[wxstros]

Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

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