Tumgik
#like for real look at this first verse:
art--harridan · 8 months
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[Image one: The first page of a digital comic about Miles Morales from the Spider-Verse movies. It begins with two panels of Miles' face resting on his closed hand. The first shows him in his school, wearing his uniform. He looks bored. The second has him in his first, store-bought Spider-Man costume. The forest surrounding Alchemax is behind him. Both of the panels cut off around his eyes. Next to them is two smaller panels, one showing someone in a classic Spider-Man costume swinging on a web, while the other shows their feet flying through the air. At the bottom of the page, there's Miles' legs flailing as he falls during the Leap of Faith scene. A panel is behind them, in a purple halftone gradient. Shards of glass surround the legs like lightning bolts. The page says "you always thought that the scariest part of a leap of faith would be the fall".
Image two: The second page of a digital comic about Miles Morales from the Spider-Verse movies. The first part of the sentence says "but really... it feels like flying;". This is interspersed with close-up panels of Miles in his first black suit. There's one of his outstretched hand, one of his chest symbol, one very close to his eyes and another of his outstretched feet. Behind the panels, there's a rock pigeon mid-flight. The sentence continues with "floating;", followed by four panels of Miles floating as his fall is flipped upside down. The pose is identical in each, but the background gets gradually darker for each one. Then, "free in a way that feels unnatural -" is written, accompanied by a panel of Miles in his school uniform. You can't see above his lips and he's sweating nervously, shoulders hunched. Scribbles, like the portals on The Spot, crowd around him. The sentence finishes with "you love it". The final panel zooms into Miles' hand clutching his backpack strap. His Spider-Man suit peaks out of his sleeve.
Image three: The third page of a digital comic about Miles Morales from the Spider-Verse movies. At the top of the page is Miles' shoes stood on the side of a wall, one foot hanging over the edge slightly. Above it, it says "the fear is in the precipice -". Below the drawing, it says "the edge", alongside Miles standing on a wall from behind, cut off around the ankles. The sentence continues "and what you gaze at beyond it", the last two words in a bubbly black and white font over top of a purple halftone gradient panel. Then, the sentence finishes "(and what you're scared will slink back in)". On the left side there's two panels, one a close-up of Kingpin's tie, and the other shows The Prowler's cape laying in a pool of blood. The other side has two panels set out the same. The top panel has one of The Spot's portals, while the one below it shows Jefferson Davis' glasses discarded and broken, one lens shattered and bloody.
Image four: The fourth page of a digital comic about Miles Morales from the Spider-Verse movies. It begins with Miles' shoes, one planted on the wall while the other hangs is elevated, hanging over the edge. Two panels beneath it show his feet with one lowered slightly, and then both planted on the wall. They're accompanied by the sentence "the hovering moment where you can still simply step back". After this there's two different Miles, standing with their bodies facing the viewer but eyes facing each other. The first is taller, unmasked, and wearing his outfit from the rooftop party. His expression is pinched together, worried. The other is in his ill-fitting store-bought Spider-Man replica suit, body posed as if he's been caught by surprise. His eyes, from what is visible, are wide. Two panels separate them - one is completely black, while one has a spark of blue lightning bursting out of it. Finally, the sentence ends "... but then you'd just be there; waiting, doing nothing".
Image five: The final page of a digital comic about Miles Morales from the Spider-Verse movies. It starts with Miles' hand in the darkness, unfurling as he reaches out his index finger. Blue lightning sparks off of it, leaving his finger like a claw. This is surrounded by the line "and you can't let that happen,". Below that, Miguel O'Hara's gloved hand creeps towards Miles, curled and claws out, like he's just failed to grasp something. It is large compared to Miles, who is swinging through the air, looking back at the hand. His body is fairly loose. The page ends with the line "even if the first step is the steepest".]
looking down
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demigod-of-the-agni · 9 months
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Finding it endlessly hilarious that while we got an absolutely stunning glow-up for Pavitr, we simultaneously got the simplification of E50101-Green Goblin
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Like. sure. the armour is cool. orange instead of purple. wonderful embossed details. weirdly angular iconic face. he SCREAMS classic Green Goblin and that's perfectly okay
But COME ON they downgraded him from a literal demon!!!!!! He was literally a 1:1 trans-adaption of E1610-Green Goblin!!!!!! They turned a big hulking BEAST who could throw fire and stuff into a Skinny Old Guy
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Nalin Oberoi i will avenge you
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ragnarokhound · 10 months
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multicolour-ink · 2 years
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I often have to take a step back and smile from the realisation that we are actually living in a timeline where we not only have a live action Sonic, but he's got two movies AND we have faithful live action Tails and Knuckles
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ereborne · 2 months
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Song of the Day: March 17
"I Like It" by Cardi B, Bad Bunny, J Balvin
#song of the day#a real train-of-thought adventure today#I was talking with Duncan about poor narrative structure in some of the less fortunate parts of our respective fandoms#and I said 'what in the fuck were they trying' and then Cardi B's new song 'Enough (Miami)' started playing in my head#('I'm like What in the Fuck / if you scared then just say that ho Enough is Enough')#I'm a big Cardi B fan she's got great lines and great delivery very very fun#right before 'Enough (Miami)' she put out 'Like What' which is similarly angry and proud and still having fun with it#('I'm rich I ain't gettin in no pool that's not heated')#but more than any other Cardi B song I love 'I Like It'. my absolute favorite#her whole first verse is wonderful but of course nothing compares to the single greatest line#'I like those Balenciagas / the ones that look like socks'#the first time I heard the song actually I was eating a gumball and I swallowed it whole laughing and nearly choked#(her whole verse there does have an incredible rhythm and I do enjoy it all and it does live in my head#and I did for a good couple weeks run the constant risk of being in the office looking for something and saying 'where's my'#and having the lyrics start up in my head. 'where's my pen? bitch I'm signin'#I did say it often enough with that cadence that my boss one day realized what I was doing#she called me Cardi for about a week straight and then intermittently for years after#any time I put my foot down and /made/ something be the way it needed to work she'd call me Cardi again it was wonderful#'yeah they call me Cardi B / I run this shit like cardio'#there's a whole second layer to it if you know my full name and it made her very happy#honestly it did make both of us happy. very very flattering every time she said it she was so proud of me)
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neverendingparable · 1 year
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Cowboy Stellan! x/x
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doctorwhoisadhd · 10 months
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fucking fascinated with the way mitski just straight up DOESNT follow a rhyme scheme in just about any one of her songs i can think of (and even when she does it's only barely, aka only for part of a song or only rhyming using slant or identical rhymes) and yet she is known for her lyrics being fucking insanely good
#ari opinion hour#literally so much fucking respect for her#francis forever + strawberry blonde + washing machine heart are closest to having actual real rhyme schemes#(& the former 2 have the closest thing to a Song's rhyme scheme. like specifically a rhyme scheme thats structured the way a SONG'S would b#but they still highkey do not follow the rules that even other atypically structured modern vernacular songs follow#(vernacular music is what musicologists call traditional / pop / folk music. its the everyday stuff / the opposite of art music (classical)#ive looked at most of her most popular songs / the ones that people love the lyrics of and like#nobody first love late spring me and my husband i bet on losing dogs a pearl liquid smooth i want you last words of a shooting star pink in#the night a burning hill townie texas reznikoff your best american girl + the 3 i already said#LITERALLY NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAS A TYPICALLY STRUCTURED RHYME SCHEME FOR VERNACULAR MUSIC#heres the rhyme scheme for francis forever: ABCB'/DD*D*D/ED'FG/DD*D*D/HID*D (' = slant rhyme * = identical rhyme)#here's strawberry blonde: ABCC' / AA'CC' / D / EE'CF*F*C' / DDC''HH'C''' (x3) / II (more apostrophes = different slants)#WHEREAS BY CONTRAST here's dancing queen by abba which has an ACTUALLY typical structure for a rhyme scheme in vernacular music:#AA’BB / CCDD / EEE’ / FF / BBBB / AA’BB / GGH / FF / BBBB / AA’BB / B (postchorus verse prechorus chorus coda)#ALSO to compare: yesterday (the beatles): A*AAA* / B*BBB* / CCADDA* / A*AAA* / CCADDA* / A*AAA* (just verse + chorus)#stacys mom: A*A*A*A* / BBCC / DD / A*ADDAA / A*A* / AAEE / DD / A*ADDAA / A*ADDA AADDAA (intro verse prechorus chorus coda)#see WAY LESS COMPLICATED. and WAY more repeated letters!!
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rosyredlipstick · 1 year
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mariah carey is soooo conchell-coded
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t4tbruharvey · 2 years
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🪄 for the love of god 🪄
if all you've got to do today is find peace of mind / come round, you can take a piece of mine / and if all you've got to do today is hesitate / come here, you can leave it late with me / you could be taking it easy on yourself / you should be making it easy on yourself
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The thing with the Mari Lwyd, though, is that it's being... I don't know, 'appropriated' is the wrong word, but certainly turned into something it isn't.
Thing is, this is a folk tradition in the Welsh language, and that's the most important aspect of it. I feel partly responsible for this, because I accidentally became a bit of an expert on the topic of the Mari Lwyd in a post that escaped Tumblr containment, and I clearly didn't stress it strongly enough there (in my defence, I wrote that post for ten likes and some attention); but this is a Welsh language tradition, conducted in Welsh, using Welsh language poetic forms that are older than the entire English language, and also a very specific sung melody (with a very specific first verse; that's Cân y Fari). It is not actually a 'rap battle'. It's not a recited poem. It is not any old rhyme scheme however you want.
It is not in English.
Given the extensive and frankly ongoing attempts by England to wipe out Welsh, and its attendant cultural traditions, the Mari is being revived across Wales as an act of linguistic-cultural defiance. She's a symbol of Welsh language culture, specifically; an icon to remind that we are a distinct people, with our own culture and traditions, and in spite of everyone and everything, we're still here. Separating her from that by removing the Welsh is, to put it mildly, wildly disrespectful.
...but it IS what I'm increasingly seeing, both online and in real world Mari Lwyd festivals. She's gained enormous pop-culture popularity in recent years, which is fantastic; but she's also been reduced from the tradition to just an aesthetic now.
So many people are talking/drawing about her as though she's a cryptid or a mythological figure, rather than the folk practice of shoving a skull on a stick and pretending to be a naughty horse for cheese and drunken larks. And I get it! It's an intriguing visual! Some of the artwork is great! But this is not what she is. She's not a Krampus equivalent for your Dark Christmas aesthetic.
I see people writing their own version of the pwnco (though never called the pwnco; almost always called some variant on 'Mari Lwyd rap battle'), and as fun as these are, they are never even written in the meter and poetic rules of Cân y Fari, much less in Welsh, and they never conclude with the promise to behave before letting the Mari into the house. The pwnco is the central part to the tradition; this is the Welsh language part, the bit that's important and matters.
Mari Lwyd festivals are increasingly just English wassail festivals with a Mari or two present. The Swansea one last weekend didn't even include a Mari trying to break into a building (insert Shrek meme); there was no pwnco at all. Even in the Chepstow ones, they didn't do actual Cân y Fari; just a couple of recited verses. Instead, the Maris are just an aesthetic, a way to make it look a bit more Welsh, without having to commit to the unfashionable inconvenience of actually including Welsh.
And I don't really know what the answers are to these. I can tell you what I'd like - I'd like art to include the Welsh somewhere, maybe incorporating the first line of Cân y Fari like this one did, to keep it connected to the actual Welsh tradition (or other Welsh, if other phrases are preferred). I'd like people who want to write their version of the pwnco to respect the actual tradition of it by using Cân y Fari's meter and rhyme scheme, finishing with the promise to behave, and actually calling it the pwnco rather than a rap battle (and preferably in Welsh, though I do understand that's not always possible lol). I'd like to see the festivals actually observe the tradition, and include a link on the booking website to an audio clip of Cân y Fari and the words to the first verse, so attendees who want to can learn it ahead of time. I don't know how feasible any of that is, of course! But that's what I'd like to see.
I don't know. This is rambly. But it's something I've been thinking about - and increasingly nettled by - for a while. There's was something so affirming and wonderful at first about seeing the Mari's climb into international recognition, but it's very much turned to dismay by now, because she's important to my endangered culture and yet that's the part that everyone apparently wants to drop for being too awkward and ruining the aesthetic. It's very frustrating.
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welcometoteyvat · 6 months
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obsessed with penny, her parents, autumn, rouge, don quijano, nana and their little band of other friends
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briarpatch-kids · 11 months
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Let's talk mobility aids!
Canes
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Canes are for when you need to take a little bit of weight off of one side of your body, need a little help with balance, or need a little extra stability when you walk. It's an easy mobility aid to find and get, and it's pretty easy to figure out how to use. Have the cane sized so the handle sits at wrist level, then hold it on the opposite side to the one that hurts. Match your cane strikes to the steps on the hurt side. It will hurt your arm, elbow, and shoulder sometimes, but having a properly sized cane will help.
Rollators
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Rollators are kind of the "next step up" in support. They come with more restrictions, you get limited to ramps and stuff, but they're also the least restrictive wheeled mobility aid because they're light and easy to pick up and toss around. They also have a seat a lot of times and a basket so you don't need to carry stuff. They're for when you need a place to rest, something to lean on when you walk, better balance assistance than a cane, and less weight bearing than a cane. I also found that it helped me with fatigue quite a bit. There's two main kinds, euro style like the first, and regular like the second. There are other fancier ones but I'm covering the basics here.
Rollators are my favorite mobility aid and I've used everything from canes to a fancy high grade power chair. They're just the perfect balance of help and freedom. They provide so much support for how far they go.
Crutches
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Arm crutches are pretty neat! They're a lot more ergonomic than a cane. In fact, some people use a single arm crutch as a cane. They distribute the weight a little better, so it's not all on your wrists, and they support you better than a rollator can. The major cons I found are that they take two hands to use so you can't carry much and I had a really hard time trying to learn to walk with them. A lot of people who use forearm crutches have other mobility aids and use the forearm crutches when they want to or need to walk.
Manual Wheelchairs
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These are for when walking becomes more difficult than pushing a wheelchair. There's no weight being put on your legs and feet and depending on your needs, you can get really specific with your adaptations if you have a custom wheelchair verses a standard wheelchair. My first custom chair looked like a monster truck because i took in the woods and gravel, my second custom chair after I got sicker has a head rest, a backrest that holds me up, and a little electric box that I can attach that helps me push. The difference between getting a standard and custom wheelchair is dependent on how much money the user has, what kind of needs they have, and what kind of medical access they have. (One is not more "real" than the other.) I highly recommend getting a cushion for under your butt if you have a standard chair without a cushion, I used a standard full time for 6 months and a cushion made a huge difference.
Mobility scooters
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Mobility scooters are for people who can't walk long distances, but can still walk with the help of a cane or unassisted. If you can walk around your house, but not really much else, a mobility scooter might be the aid for you! There's a lot of different styles and battery life lengths and handling abilities so try a few different scooters out if you can.
Powerchairs
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Powerchairs come in a couple different types or "groups" depending on your needs. Group 1 is the kind of chair you're probably most familiar with. It's basically for someone who needs a powerchair to get around their house, the doctors, office, and grocery store. You can't do any custom seat cushions or anything, but it's for people who don't need it. Think of like... someone who can walk pretty okay still, it just hurts to walk or they're off balance or a little weak feeling. A lot of times more elderly people will use these, if you're more active look into group 2
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Group two chairs are little more durable, a little more stable, sometimes you can switch the captains seats out for custom seating... They're what a full time powerchair user would use if they don't need specialty functions like tilt or recline. They also often have 6 wheels rather than 4 like the group 1 chairs have.
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Group 3 powerchairs are reserved for specific diagnoses like muscular dystrophy, ALS, and other severe neurological and neuromuscular illnesses. These are also called "rehab" chairs because they're for making sure severely disabled people have quality of life. The tilt function is for pressure relief, though you can also get things like elevation so you can raise and lower your chair, and some of them can recline flat. There are other avenues of moving grade 3 power chairs beyond the joystick as well in case someone can't use their hands or doesn't have them. (Head controls, torso controls, and straw controls called sip and puff are alternatives.) They can go on a little worse terrain than group 1 and two chairs and go a little farther, but if they get stuck they weigh 350 lbs and it's awful.
There's a few other types of mobility aid that I don't know enough about, like ankle foot orthotics and gait trainers, but these are the basic "mobility aid" most people will come across.
If you use another type of mobility aid and want to educate people, add it on!!
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soullessdianthus · 11 months
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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚
Warnings: yandere themes (manipulation, kidnapping, imprisonment), smut (overstimulation, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink if you want to interpret like so)
Word count: 1.6k
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A sound of pouring rain tapping over the window kept you awake. You glanced over the glass and saw the same image as for the days before - dense, forest line cutting the grassy, wild meadow off. The temperature inside and out was warm and it almost felt like summer in the countryside of your homeland. But it was all an illusion.
A high-tech screens had been put inside the window frames to imitate your well known surroundings. He put an effort to make this place look like a decent place. Somewhere you would feel comfortable. But this wasn’t even a real home, it was your prison. 
After you interfered a little too much with the canon events in one of the spider-verses, Miguel O’Hara visited your world in person. He demanded an explanations from Peter Parker, a friend from college, about your doings. 
Because you two learned lately about the up-coming death of uncle Ben and tried to avoid it by all means. And you almost succeed. Almost.
Miguel, a tall man with a dark look on his face, threatened Peter about the consequences of avoiding such occurrences. Parker appeared to be frightened of the stranger as Miguel’s eyes seemed to glow brightly red from frustration. 
Those piercing eyes finally found your form, standing still behind your Spiderman and only then you processed what you just heard. 
━ Wh-What? It was OUR idea to save your uncle! ━ You interrupted those two men, gesturing with your hands. But Peter didn’t even bother to look at you, he didn’t have enough courage to do so. He tried to frame you and put all the guilt on you. Which in the end, somehow worked out. 
He agreed to that mysterious spidey-guy from another universe that someone had to bear the consequences of messing up with the timeline. And Parker pointed at you. An ultimate betrayal, ripped your heart apart. 
Soon after you found yourself in that damn prison with a bracelet over your wrist to “stop you from glitching”. Whatever that was supposed to mean. 
Miguel was some kind of boss around the place you found yourself in. At least that's what Lyla told you, a artificial intelligence present in the technology around you. It was him who was responsible for you from now on as he visited you every day. 
At first, each time you saw him, you tried throwing things at him purely out of rage - a book, a small picture frame or a chair, but each time he managed to catch or turn down anything you tossed. He kept trying to explain to you what was happening and why he couldn’t let you go back into your world. Miguel stated that it was dangerous enough when a non-variant person was messing up with the timeline. 
But was this all true? There was no one else you could ask for a second opinion, you had to believe, everything Miguel told you was the truth. Obviously, you questioned everything about him and this place. It felt like you were losing your sanity and a part of yourself. 
The well-built man with brown, combed hair was very patient and understable with your rage and sorrow. Until he was not. 
O’Hara had enough of your tantrums and one time he scared you truly. Eyes turning bloody red, his veins popping out and his teeth turning into long fangs. He charged at you, shoving your whole body to the wall behind. When your eyes were filled with fear and lungs emptied themself due to the force he pushed you, Miguel contained himself and moved away quickly. 
You rarely saw him in this form, but when you finally did - you kept behaving well, not wanting to anger him again. Because you knew nothing about him. What if he was able to hurt you? Or even murder you? 
Since then, you tried to suppress any anger and try to figure out how to return to your world, your life. And the brunette kept coming back, each day just to visit you. In the end he was your only company. 
Miguel brought you new books or art supplies if you asked Lyla or him directly. The man would spend some time with you - cooking, watching movies, anything you liked to do. But it was months ago. 
For the last couple of weeks, you were practically silent and apathetic. Curling inside the armchair near the “window”, napping or sobbing quietly. You’ve been in this prison for too long and it began to crush your spirit. 
He acknowledged the change in you and tried talking about it. He kept assuring that he has to keep you here for the world’s sake and balance. Because if someone messes up with the canon again, the universe will collapse. You reprimanded yourself for leaning into his chest when he offered you a comforting hug. Because how could you ever want solace from your captor? 
That evening was no different. Miguel visited you after work and found you sitting in silence on that damn armchair. When he crouched down, trying to catch your sight, you scooted backwards in the seat. 
━ What’s wrong, cariño?
━ I want to go home. ━ Your voice full with sorrow gained his attention. Where was your spirit he adored so much? The pain in your voice almost made him feel bad. Almost.
Miguel reached towards your exposed calf and started rubbing it with his pointing finger. 
━ This is your home, tú lo sabes. [sp.: you know it] ━ His voice sounded peaceful when he reached both of his arms in your direction. His embrace was welcoming, but you knew better. It was like a sweet flavored poison, spreading slowly under your skin, killing you slowly. ━ Come here.
You pushed firmly against his shoulders as you jumped out of the chair and took a few steps back. 
━ Miguel ━ you said his name loudly, gaining his full attention. You were being hysterical again. ━ I’ve been here FOR MONTHS. I had life before, I had A PURPOSE. You took it from me!
He tried, he really tried holding himself back this time you talked back. But your whining became annoying and Miguel just knew what would make you feel better. 
He stood up to his full height, easily towering over you. Brunette came closer, taking each step slowly, like he was giving you time to calm yourself or at least apologize. But you didn’t even back out. 
Miguel was leaning to look into your glimmering eyes and he saw how much you hated him at that moment. “We need to work on that temper”, he once told you, but you thought nothing of it. 
His little, feisty nymph. That’s what he liked to think of you. 
━ Fine ━ he growled right in your face, before grabbing your arm. ━ I’ll give you a purpose. 
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The sound of your heavy panting echoed through the room. You tried straightening your hands again, but unsuccessfully as your muscles gave up a long time ago. Only his strong hands kept your ass higher than your head, by the tightening grip over your already bruised hips. 
Miguel kept thrusting into your tight cunt until you were a sobbing mess. He already pushed you over the edge at least three times, devouring the little noises you made and how your pussy clenched around his swollen shaft. 
Brunette kept one of his palms spread between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper half down, making your spine arch better. 
The sweat covered the back of your bent knees, him sliding in and out of you with ease, because of your wetness. Miguel certainly knew where to touch you to make you break into pieces between his fingers. 
━ See, doesn't that feel good to be by my side, cariño? ━ He leaned over your puffing frame, cheek dipped in the sheets while he kept fucking you stupid. 
━ Mig-Miguel… I can’t… n-no more…. ━ You whispered to him, feeling as each thrust of his hips pushed his cock deeper inside of you. The coiling sensation started to build up again between your trembling legs and in stomach. ━ Please!
━ Just one more, darling. ━ He heard you clearly, but yet he kept sliding in and out of you violently, chasing his own sweet release. 
Miguel took his hand away from your back and sneaked between your puffy lips. He spreaded them, opening you up and making it easier for him to find your clit. And when he finally did so, the brunette started rubbing it in a rhythm that quickly made you reach your another orgasm that night. 
Your body tensed suddenly and then collapsed into his pelvis, sinking his swollen cock deeper. When your cunt fluttered around him uncontrollably and your eyes rolled backwards, he came inside you, clenching his teeth. 
He tilted forward and placed both of his strong hands on each side of you, while coming down from his high. He noticed your grip tightening over bed sheets and smiled, before giving you a tender kiss on the temple. 
━ Mi pequeña ninfa. Do you understand now, that only I can protect you? [sp.: My little nymph]
Miguel loved his girl no matter if she had a bad day or not. He was going to make sure, no one will ever take you from him. You’re his precious troublemaker, aren’t you?
━ You belong with me. ━ He growled into your ear.
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nyimasu · 1 year
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IT WON'T FIT! — TOJI FUSHIGURO X FEM!READER
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— CW : toji is a well-hung menace still broke af (what's new), rough!toji, wall sex, implied size kink, this man fucks you raw 24/7, is 'girl' a pet name?, cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie, slight teasing, double penetration at the end (monsterfucking), squirting
— WORD COUNT : 1.5k┊AO3 LINK
NOTE : well, this takes place in the jjk verse and nothing I say can justify my horniness lmao I wrote this at 2am because toji always comes back to remind me why I'm so down bad for him (ssh don't tell geto)
enjoy!
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Toji is a man on a mission tonight. That being to fuck you into oblivion.
"Come on, be a good girl and stay still," his fist lands a hair’s breadth away from your face pressed against the wall, hips snapping against yours in a dance of curses laced with moans erupting from you both. He hides his nose in your hair as his next words hit you. 
"I want your pussy to milk me dry again.
I said don't move."
You squirm anyway, feeling his tongue lick a fat stripe of your tensed neck to then bite it as his calloused, experienced fingers roam your body to get rid of what's left of your clothes. You hear the fabric tear apart under Toji's touch, pooling at your feet, shreds of the shirt flying around when the groan the man lets out when you try to look at him from above your shoulder. It's primal, the one lions use to chase away other predators when eating.
He's possessive over his precious, little toy.
"T-Toji."
A sharp hiss on his part, followed by a merciless thrust that shuts you up with a wail. He is practically rutting into you.
Your eyes roll in the back of your head as his whisper grazes the shell of your ear, "Want new clothes? I'll get you new ones after my cum fills every hole of you, girl."
His cock has been kissing your cervix for a good minute, bruising and hitting it with his monstrous cock. The first time you saw it you were certain it wasn’t going to fit. You still wonder the same, but it always fills you to the brim with little to no effort. 
Toji always makes sure of that.
The drag of his dick is so delicious, grazing your walls — no, clogging them with its size like occluded pipes ready to burst yet the slick wetness you're so drenched in helps him move in and out of you in smooth, calculated moves you find maddening.
Every time its head collides with that sweet, intimate spot all you can see are flickering stars, but today there are so many more than usual, getting closer to you by the minute. They just get brighter, hotter and you feel them coat your eyelashes and cheeks in flocks until all you can see are them. Liquid stars falling from your eyes and he's your favourite star seeker.
His grip on you tightens as the fist still close to your face opens up, palm digging into your open mouth to suppress yet another desperate moan from you. 
What other women said about him is true. Before your paths crossed, you had listened to them without thinking much of it. But now, as he is using you as his personal cum dumpster against the wall of some run-down bar in Tokyo, you know they were right.
How Toji Fushiguro's stamina is as endless as the arsenal of cursed tools in his possession.
How he doesn't stop until his semen overwrite your own blood, marking you permanently as his.
How lewd is the sound of skin slapping against skin, muscular thighs colliding with your quivering ones in the dead of the night.
But they didn't warn you about his peculiarities, oh no.
Truth is, nobody managed to keep him interested in them for as long as you did. Hell, you still do.
You have him wrapped around your little finger, and he knows it. And a part of him loves it, being desired beyond limits, free to act upon his most twisted urges without the fear of judgement. 
Those sluts he had sex with before are nothing compared to the real deal. You.
Toji is grinning like the maniac he is when his digits pry open your lower lips, stretching them further while he's still buried deep inside your aching pussy. For a moment, the man sees how far he's driven himself into you through the bulge in your lower tummy and groans under his breath. You're so fucking perfect.
You clench around him in response, whipping your head around to see why he’s bucking into you so slowly. It's sloppy, the pace he's just set, and the Sorcerer Killer never half-asses anything.
So why- 
You don’t seem to understand what’s happening until a blunt object between your flush bodies comes out to play, and your hitched breath doesn’t go unnoticed. Startled, you look down to see the familiar shape of Toji's cursed spirit snaking around his leg and up to the hip bone, poking your entrance already full of his master’s cock.
Nope. No way I’m going to indulge him on this one you think to yourself.
"This really won't fit." you say in a daze, but the man hears you the same. And betrayal is around the corner, the first to fall your body, arching on its own at the sensation of the worm’s spongy head delving deeper. Your juices, mixed with Toji’s thick cum leaking out of your cunt, smeared all over it as it rubs itself in the ache between your legs and you gulp, ready to be smothered.
But it’s never enough, not when it comes to Fushiguro.     
Apparently your eyes are speaking louder than words because the man’s gaze is on you before you can look away. His green eyes bore a hole in you, and if he really does, you’re sure he’d find a way to clog it as well with his fingers, his mouth or some other tool of his.
“Aww, my girl wants to back off now? Too bad you can’t,” he coos, faux concern in his tone but it suddenly rises in volume when the hand still on your body. the one that nullified your clothes, slides down to where the cursed spirit is. He strokes it like he would with his cock, and something in the way he does so sends jolts of electricity down your spine.
“You can, girl. Also, we’ve been working non-stop for weeks. Let it take the edge off the stress too, would ya?”
That last sentence blows the air out of your lungs and under your scorching stare, Toji’s finger brushes the worm’s body, motioning for it to move. 
It lasts a second, but it’s more than enough, because the curse pushes into you altogether. It splits you open and you let out a scream. You spread your legs wider to accommodate both, but the stretch is still clawing from within, and it burns with every inch the spirit adds to Toji’s girth. Coated as they are in your releases, the man behind you simply laughs in ecstasy before his dominant hand finds your hair, pushing you flush against the wall again as he resumes pistoning into your pussy with force.
This time, the cursed spirit joins in and all you manage to mumble are strings of Toji's name dying on your lips when his other hand covers flies up to border one of your tits.
The coil in your stomach jumps up and down with each jerk of his in you, the cursed worm following his master’s movements to bring you closer to fold for them.
You do bend forward more for Toji to yank at your roots harder, eliciting sweet sounds from you, until his mouth is on you once more. The scarred tissue surrounding the scar scratches the back of your neck, just like the black shirt he still has on — but everything fades in the background with him so close.
You won’t last long.
“Do you want to cum? Does it feel good to be stuffed like this, uhm?”
“Yes, yes. Tojiii” whining, you stare at him dead in the eye, but lose momentum the second the worm’s head slips off just to dive back in you. Words are trapped in your throat, yet another feeble plea escapes you and hearing that, Toji’s smirk gets bigger.
“Go on, then. Make a mess.”
The softness of his pitch-black locks contrasts with the roughness, tautness of his muscles as he leans closer, his cock and cursed spirit stilling into you as you come with your head falling back on his shoulder, eyelids shut and mouth open. 
That sight alone brings Toji to his own release, and he gets so lost in the feeling of you squeezing his cock that he never stops fucking into you, not even when he spurts creamy ropes in your spasming cunt. That’s why he misses you biting your lower lip, mewling in overstimulation as you squirt all over him.
But when his gaze gets fixated on your parted legs, finally coming down from his high, he takes a double look and the shit-eating grin plastered on his face is the first thing you see after he and the worm slip out and flips you around. 
Before you can say anything his mouth is on yours in a hungry kiss, tongues battling for dominance as his fingers gather your arousal on them, both amused and proud. He steps back enough for you to catch your breath, but not far enough for him to miss your cheeks burning, taunted by the scene before your eyes.
Toji’s digits rest on his tongue, licking them clean as the dim lights of the streetlights show you the wicked man moaning at the taste of your juices.
His eyes soften as he chuckles, “Guess I’ll have to fuck you more often with my cursed spirit if I get you to squirt.
Let’s go steal some clothes now.
I can't have my girl walking around naked.” 
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© azanthys — do not copy, translate or share my works.
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wandasaura · 3 months
Text
TWO PEOPLE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER
summary — in an attempt to get wanda’s attention, you end up warming the strap you hoped she’d fuck you with.
warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, strap-on usage, mommy kink, brief daddy kink, cockwarming, holding/accidental wetting, degradation, praise, aftercare, oral fixation, subspace, humiliation, ¿nursing?, idk you suck on wanda’s tits, domestic fluff, men/minors dni
authors note — if you’re familiar with the song peace, i thought the lyrics from the second verse fit this little moment so perfectly! mommy wanda lovers this one is for you, it was heavily requested so nobody look at me! there’s also some soft daddy nat for those that wanted to see more of her
you are in love universe
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♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ・ mommy maximoff ✧
You should have learned a long time ago that acting out with Wanda never ended the way you wanted it to. Natasha was easy to get what you wanted out of, a few bats of your eyelashes and a whispered cry of Daddy had her backtracking in seconds, but Wanda was unforgiving and found pride in that fact. You’d gained your footing in this new dynamic rather easily, and on some days, the three of you worked so perfectly together that it felt like you’d been a couple for your entire life, not merely a few weeks.  Wanda and Natasha had fallen into a healthy balance of being your girlfriends and being your dominants. There were days that passed without an ounce of tension, but other days feel like a battlefield. You still weren’t sure how to ask for what you needed from them, which is how you found yourself in the position you’re in now. With summer still lingering through the streets of Westview, you slept between warm bodies every night. There was no indication of what mood you woke up in when daylight painted the sky, but Natasha and Wanda had learned to wait for your not-so-subtle tells. When your eyes peeled open, it was easiest to gauge what side of you they were dealing with. When you wanted to spend the day, or at least a couple hours of your morning, as just their girlfriend, they gave you that without hesitance. Wanda giggled with you in the kitchen and Natasha tackled you onto the couch demanding cuddles, and it always felt easy and real. Other days, when you weren’t so willing to harbor full control of your life, you woke up clinging to your Daddy. It was always Natasha you sought out first thing in the morning, but Wanda can’t complain when she’s the one being smothered throughout the night. They were happy to be whoever you wanted them to be, but they’d slowly been working you up to asking for yourself. 
This morning was one of those days where Wanda decided that if you wanted something from her, you needed to ask and not just with your actions, but with your words. Natasha had gone into the office to oversee a development in a new high-profile case, leaving you to follow the Sokovian around the house like a little lost duckling. Where Wanda went you went, simple as that, well, unless of course she managed to close the door before you could get behind it. That had led to a series of whines and angrily stomped feet, but even then she hadn’t budged then. She hadn’t budged until you had wandered into her office with your hands clasped behind your back. She’d gone to ask what you needed, attempted to give you yet another chance to tell her that you needed your Mommy, but you’d dropped an all black strap-on into her lap and pouted at her with needy eyes before she could get the words out. When she’d pulled her linen shorts down her thighs and attached the harness around her hips, you’d thought you had won. When she told you to get into her lap and take the strap down to the hilt, you were sure that you had won. 
In case it wasn’t clear, you hadn’t won. It had been an hour since she’d asked you to come settle onto her lap and take the strap into your dripping pussy. You’d complied easily, sank down on the toy without her help, and had started grinded your hips against hers in a manner that forced the base to rock against her core perfectly. That pleasure hadn’t lasted long, barely three minutes, and just as your hips had found a comfortable pace, Wanda placed a bruising grip on your hips and completely stilled your movements.  Her lips had been wet when they kissed at the side of her neck, and a pleased hum reached your ears as she used a single slender finger to point your chin toward the ceiling. The full expanse of your neck had been both visible and biteable in that moment, and it hadn’t taken any convincing for her teeth to settle firmly into your skin. You found it laughable that at the start of your contract with Natasha, you’d likened her to a vampire, but Wanda was truly the vampire in your relationship. She possessed an incessant need to dig her teeth into any part of you that she could touch, and you allowed her to eagerly. She’d cooed at your whine when it tumbled from your lips, but there hadn’t been an ounce of sympathy in her face when she asked you, “What do you do to get what you want?” 
“Ask.” You had responded with bated breath, your eyes murky with lust that had been ignored for hours. If Natasha were here she’d have already fucked you raw, but Wanda wasn’t afraid of the long game. She’d never been shy about making you work for what you wanted, and even months into your dynamic with her, not as a couple but as a dominant and her submissive, it never failed to fluster you. Wanda was softer when you shared intimate moments outside of your dynamic. She still never let you top, but she was more lenient in giving in. Her being so firm with you had only cemented in your mind that she knew what you wanted, and the entire day leading up to you warming her strap had been merely a game to her. 
“Mmhm.” She had hummed haphazardly in response, and her hands had still been settled roughly on your hips but her eyes had left yours to trail over the documents that splayed across her desk in messy highlighted piles. You hadn’t had the slightest clue as to what she was really doing, but the rare sight of her so disorganized had felt serious. “And since you didn’t use your words, what happens?” 
You had whined and shook your head in a pleading protest, not wanting to lose your voice when you knew exactly what you wanted. Wanda hadn’t folded at your soft whine, she’d done the exact opposite. The tips of her fingers had pulled your hips down harder against the toy buried deep within your weeping walls, and the head of the dildo had nudged against your softest spot and made your torso fall slack against her chest. “Y-You decide what happens.” You’d finally forced the words into the space between your bodies, and it was rewarded with a sharp thrust of her hips that drove the strap-on further into your pussy. 
“That’s right. What should I decide, hm? I think I’d like to have my pretty little girl warm my strap for a while. What do you think about that idea?” She hadn’t really been asking you. You would’ve been condemned to the same fate even if you’d said no, but you found yourself nodding your head at her question despite how horrible it sounded to sit with your aching cunt filled with pleasure it couldn’t fully claim. “Good girl. Now settle down, Mommy has work to do that little girls shouldn't even be in here to see.” She had guided your head down onto her shoulder, forcing you into near complete darkness before her hands left your hips and returned to the stacks of important documents on her desk. 
You’d tried to remain still, knowing it was what she wanted and she’d have to reward your good behavior at some point, but as the minutes ticked by slower and slower not only did your core demand attention, your bladder demanded relief. The wiggling of your hips hadn’t been reprimanded when the movements started. Wanda had only hummed and shifted beneath you, easing the strap-on into a new position that did nothing for your desperate need to pee. She’d been keeping good on her promise of getting you to drink more water, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the exact predicament she had wanted you in when she forced you to finish an entire glass in the kitchen. Surely it wasn’t. Surely she didn’t want you squirming on her lap from sensations that weren’t caused by her, that wouldn’t make any sense. 
When your wiggling became more frantic and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to moan out in ecstasy or sob in frustration, Wanda sighed and dropped her pen onto the stack of papers that she’d very nearly gotten through completely. Your full and sensitive bladder made the strap-on drenched with arousal feel so much better. Every time Wanda inhaled too deeply or exhaled too sharply, you felt every grove of the cock rub against your walls. The sensation was sharp, fleeting, but embarrassingly addicting and you found yourself trying to replicate little actions that provoked it. Wanda wasn’t as unaware of your intentions as you’d hoped, and when you wiggled a bit too harshly in her lap, finally being rewarded with the quick burst of pleasure, her fingers found your hips again and stilled them just as quickly as she did the first time. 
“Keep still.” She sighed her demand, keeping her tone unbothered which only further provoked your desperation. It was always particularly hot when she acted as though your body writhing against hers had no effect on her. Despite leaving her pen to sit abandoned on the desk, you hadn’t felt her eyes burn into your skin throughout the entire exchange. Your face was still pressed into her neck, hiding in the darkness that you hoped would make this situation less humiliating. 
When you finally had the courage to look up at her, unable to keep yourself still any longer, you cupped her cheeks and directed her attention onto you. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You whispered softly, beyond humiliated with the reluctant admission. Your face turned a flush shade of pink that Wanda thought complemented your eyes perfectly, and you knew you had her full attention when her pupils dilated just the farthest bit more. There was hardly any green left in her stare, but you clung to what little color remained. 
“What was that, little one? Mommy couldn’t hear you.” Wanda pouted her lips, her eyes filled with innocent confusion that wasn’t at all authentic. She’d heard you perfectly clear, you were too close to her face for the words to have fallen short before they met her ears, but she wasn’t letting go of your hips without a further explanation and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together for. 
“I have to pee.” You said just the faintest bit louder, hoping your pleading eyes would be enough to convey the desperation you felt within your weeping core and taut bladder. You felt so incredibly full, and every time you took a breath that feeling only intensified. 
“Oh, well you can hold it just a little bit longer I’m sure. Mommy’s almost done.” Wanda smiled a sweet sympathetic smile, the grip on your hips slowly becoming softer as she let the pads of her thumb soothe the aching skin with tight soft circles you wished would land somewhere else. 
“I can’t.” You pleaded with her to understand just how badly you had to go, you’d already been holding it for so long trying to make her proud. Wanda frowned at your plea, her cherry tinted lips the only thing you could focus on. 
“Well that’s too bad, milaya.” She said simply, shrugging her shoulders in a nonchalant manner that made your walls clench and your clit throb. “Try harder for Mommy, I’m sure you can do it.” She conceded when your frown didn’t waver, and ever so softly she pecked your lips before things went back to how they were before you’d interrupted her. Your head was guided back down onto her shoulder, and her hands went back to work shuffling through documents that you could only assume she was annotating. 
Another half hour had passed before you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore. You’d lasted longer than you’d anticipated with her full you felt, but the end was in sight as the muscles in your belly fought vicious wars to keep your dignity. You were so close to the edge that even Wanda’s gentle breathing felt like pin pricks against your spine. As your need to relieve yourself grew more intense, so did the coil in your belly that seemed to find fuel in your desperation. A soft cry tumbled past your lips before the dam broke and the coil snapped. You dampened her lap with more than just arousal, and the wet feeling that spread across hers and your thighs only made you cry harder. Moans tumbled past your lips when your cries fell short, and it became a desperate attempt to both seek harder pressure against your clit and get completely away from the wetness that was quickly becoming cold against yours and her naked skin. 
“Oh baby, did you have an accident?” Wanda cooed sympathetically, not even having to look down at your glazed over eyes to know what headspace you’d tumbled into. Your cries weren’t one of pain, nor were they really ones of frustration either. You weeped with humiliation and the desperate need to finally be spoken to. She’d been merely answering you all day, no ounce of elaboration in the short sentences shared. You needed your Mommy, and Wanda wasn’t going to deny you that any longer when you’d been so good for her. Granted, the accident hadn’t been a part of her plan. She’d only intended to make you hold yourself, but she couldn’t deny that it was hot, though a little uncomfortable to be sitting in a cold and wet chair. Despite wanting to get away from the mess, Wanda remained in her chair and devoted her attention to you. In truth, she’d finished her paperwork twenty minutes ago, she’d just been waiting for you to finally break. “Why didn’t you tell Mommy you needed to go potty, silly girl?” 
The words weren’t fully registering in your head, every noise felt miles away and muffled by thick cotton on your ears. If you’d been in a sounder mind, you would have snapped your gaze up to her so quickly that your neck would’ve broken, but that never came. You’d warned her as well as you could that if she didn’t let you up this would happen, but she had taken her chances and the outcome had been exactly what you’d expected. Wanda hummed soothingly when you burrowed your face into her shoulder and your mouth went to work on the little bits of skin that were available beside the collar of her t-shirt. The cock still in your pussy was the farthest thing from your mind, but when Wanda shifted you into her arms so she could finally stand and move away from your accident, you whined at the sensation of your full cunt being empty for the first time in hours. 
“Shh, it’s okay, malen’kaya. You’re okay.” Even in Natasha’s absence the Sokovian spoke Russian. She had no real connection to her native language that had died when her brother did, and whatever she said to you in this moment would fall upon deaf ears anyway. It didn’t matter what language she let fall past her lips, all that you could comprehend in this state was that your Mommy’s arms were wrapped tightly around you and she was so cruelly pulling something away the only thing that had been with you for hours. “We’re gonna get you all cleaned up. Just be patient with Mommy.” Leaving her office chair to be handled at a different time, she honestly might just order a new one, having no intense attachment to the black swivel chair that’s only purpose was to sit on, Wanda carried you back into the master bedroom.
She made quick work of undressing you, soothing your whines of protest when the cold air ambushed your flush and warm skin. Your shorts and panties had been discarded on the floor of her office, so all she had to strip you out of was one of Natasha’s old t-shirts that you had found in the back of the closet and adamantly adored. You reached for her throughout the entire process, a far away look in your eyes as you barely even registered her face coming so close to yours that her breath splayed across your lips. She kissed you softly, capturing your full attention as you returned the embrace, all the while her hands were pulling the piss soaked strap-on off of her hips and away from her core that throbbed to be dealt with, but she could handle the unsatisfied ache. Unlike you, Wanda was particularly fond of edging, the only problem that came with her interest was she never relinquished control for long enough to ever have it be done to her. 
You huffed when she pulled away from your lips in favor of throwing her t-shirt onto the floor with the already existing pile of your own clothes. She left you laying alone in the center of the bed, making a mental note to throw the comforter in the washer before any of you tried to sleep beneath them later on, and walked into the en-suite bathroom. She drew a nice bath, taking the extra minutes to add your favorite bath bomb into the warm water and light the few candles that remained around the edge of the tub. Bubbles were a must, you demanded them every time either of the redheads even suggested taking a bath, so while the water was still running Wanda added them to the tub as well. You didn’t like a hot bath, a fact that you had been sure to tell Natasha when she’d first tried to lower you into an aftercare session with one, so Wanda figured she had plenty of time to go back and collect you while the water cooled down some more. She could already see the bath bomb coloring the water pink as she left, and she knew both yours and her skin would smell like strawberries and vanilla once you crawled out and dried off. 
You had come back to yourself the faintest bit when Wanda re-entered the bedroom. You’d curled up onto your side, your head resting on one of your arms as you let your eyes remain closed. At the sound of her gentle footsteps, wide eyes still glassy shot open and searched for her. Unlike the state you’d been in when she left to run the bath, you were able to recognize her presence now and you made that very clear. “Mommy!” You cried, a fresh set of tears brimming your eyes as you reached a single hand out to her. Wanda kneeled down in front of the bed, gently taking your hand in hers and kissing it softly.
The hand that wasn’t occupied reach out to brush strands of fallen hair away from your face, and as expected, when she ran the pad of her thumb over your bottom lip, your tongue shot out to lick at it before soft lips claimed it entirely. Wanda smiled fondly, her other fingers gently stroking against your cheek. “Privet, moya milaya devochka.” 
You were still too far gone to comprehend the Russian sentence that you had become familiar with, but that didn’t bother Wanda who hadn’t been expecting a response in the first place. You were falling out of your head fairly quickly, and she worried that your humiliation was the leading factor in your unwillingness to let the fog linger fully. 
“Left.” You croaked pitifully around the soft weight of her thumb in your mouth, your wide eyes desperate for her to understand the message you were trying to convey and not let it happen again. 
“I didn’t leave.” Wanda shook her head firmly, placing another kiss to the top of your hand that curled around hers tightly, unwilling to let go for even a single second. You were always clingy when she got you in this state, and she adored every second of it. “Mommy ran us a bath. We’ve gotta get cleaned up.” She promised you, and at the mention of one of your favorite activities, your torso shot up from the bed and her hand fell away from your face. You wobbled in your disoriented and fuzzy state, leaning into her touch when she reached out to stabilize you. “Come on, sweetheart. There are bubbles waiting for you!” 
Wanda helped you into the bathroom, easing herself into the tub before she helped you over the edge and into her arms. You didn’t go for her fingers like she’d anticipated, merely wiggling your way down in her embrace until your head fell onto the swell of her breast. Not wanting to question you when you were so sensitive, Wanda merely dragged her hand across the inside of your thigh as you sat sideways in her lap, transfixed on the sharp edge of her jaw that clenched when you got too far into her head. She’d have to remember to thank Natasha for pushing to get the bigger tub when they’d remodeled the bathroom years ago, it was certainly coming in handy now. Your body was washed with tender touches, the loofa used a light blue color and saturated in Wanda’s own body wash. She didn’t know why you continued to buy your own, when the only one who ended up using it was her after you’d taken the last of hers. 
It was a comfortable silence that fell over the both of you as the bath water slowly became colder and colder, and with each minute that passed in combination with Wanda’s gentle stroking of your hip or your cheeks, you fell firmly beneath the blanket of fuzzy emptiness that you’d been fighting off before. You felt so loved and so cared for, there wasn’t a single thought in your mind beside her. The humiliation of your accident had waned away, replaced by only flourishing warmth. 
Eventually, your lips began to root around for something to suckle on. Wanda’s fingers hadn’t moved to your mouth quick enough, and your tongue sought out the first soft thing that it could find. A gasp fell from Wanda’s lips when you took her sensitive nipple into your mouth, a sharp sensation shooting through her body that was in no way sexual. She’d always had her speculations about this kind of contact, but now that she had it for herself to experience, she understood. She had all of your mind in her hands at this moment, but you had all of her body. It was a delicate balance that further emphasized how your relationship could only thrive if all parties were equal and respected. Wanda trailed a soft finger over the bridge of your nose, her own scrunching up in admiration. 
“Find something you like, little one?” She teased, but there was no bite behind her words as she gently adjusted your latch to be more comfortable for the both of you. The bath water was officially cold, no longer able to be passed off as warm, but Wanda would allow you to sit in it just this once. She was always such a stickler for crawling out of the tub when the water went cold, but even she didn’t want to leave the intimacy of this moment as your eyes fluttered closed and your tongue made gentle sweeps across her nipple. “You did so good for me. So so good. Mommy’s so proud of you. My good girl.” She whispered delicate praise into the otherwise quiet bathroom, her eyes appreciating how the dim candle light made your glassy eyes glow like a fire had been placed behind them. 
She could faintly hear the front door open downstairs and she smiled knowing that Natasha had finally made it home. It wasn’t often that the Russian went into the office alone, but today had worked out weirdly and Wanda wouldn’t trade it for anything. Natasha had noticed how quiet the house was upon entering, and she tried her best not to disturb the stillness that you and Wanda had created. She took the stairs one at a time, peeking into Wanda’s office when she noticed the door was oddly ajar. Wanda either had the door firmly closed or entirely open, it was never left in the half-opened state it was now. Two pairs of shorts and the puddle on the floor told her everything she needed to know about what had happened while she was away at work. Anticipating your blissed out headspace and Wanda’s full hands, Natasha cleaned the scene, still dressed in business slacks and an off-white satin blouse. The chair had been scrubbed and sanitized, and the floor had been given the same treatment in only a matter of minutes. There was no need to buy a new chair now, and memories of this afternoon would linger in the room anytime either one of you set your sight on it. 
Natasha carried yours and Wanda’s shorts back into the bedroom. She picked up the pile of clothes that had been left on the floor, adding them to the laundry basket they kept hidden away in the closet before her own clothes were thrown on top. She dressed quickly, able to hear the one-sided conversation that was happening on the other side of the wall. 
“Daddy’s home.” Wanda cooed sweetly to you, her eyes filled with gentle love and admiration that felt so full she wanted to cry. You barely heard her words, and if you did, you didn’t fully comprehend them, but she didn’t expect you to. “She’ll be so proud of how good you were for Mommy. The best little duckling.” 
Natasha had decided then to make her presence known, two big and cozy towels in her hands. The initial sight of you and Wanda together had shocked her, her eyes transfixed on where her wife’s nipple was in your mouth, but she didn’t make it a big deal. Lowering herself onto the tile floor beside the tub, placing the towels just out of what she deemed the splash zone, the Russian reached out gently to caress your still flush cheeks. 
“How did this happen?” Natasha questioned Wanda, keeping her voice soft so as to not disturb you when you looked so content and fulfilled. The scent of strawberry and vanilla clung to the air in the bathroom, enough for Natasha to know that one of your favorite bath bombs had been thrown into the tub. 
“She’s down deep.” Wanda merely hummed, leaning over the edge of the tub to lay her lips against Natasha’s. “It was the first thing she found when she decided she needed something in her mouth.” Wanda laughed softly, the vibrations jostling her breasts much to your displeasure. Your hand fell onto the swell of her breast, keeping it still as you suckled contently despite the near interruption. 
“I can’t say I blame her.” Natasha teasingly pinched at Wanda’s nipple, not missing the way the Sokovian’s eyes fluttered closed and she chased the sensation when it was pulled away. Wanda had sensitive nipples, it was a known fact that Natasha loved to abuse, but something about this moment with you just felt entirely pure and wholesome. “Let me be the bad guy and get her out. You’re freezing.” Natasha frowned when she noticed just how cold to the touch Wanda’s skin was. She grabbed at you instantly, noticing that the sections of your skin that had been submerged in the water were just as cold as Wanda’s. 
You whined in protest when you were pulled away from Wanda’s chest and wrapped up like a little bug in the towel that Natasha had brought into the bathroom for you. Natasha didn’t bat an eye at your pitiful whimpering, carrying out of the bathroom and toward the guest bedroom when she gathered the hint that the comforter needed to be washed before any of you laid beneath it that night. It was scary how in tune she and Wanda could be at times, but you weren’t fully present enough to comment on their freaky telepathy. 
Natasha got you dressed into a pair of summer pajamas that still occupied the guest room from when you’d first started spending the night. Your clothes occupied nearly every room at this point, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She adored the little traces of your presence that popped up at random moments, which might be the reason why she no longer scolds you for leaving your shoes in every corner of the house despite the large collection at the front door. By the time you're beneath the blankets in the guest bed, Wanda’s coming into the room in a pair of pajama shorts, though she’s still void of a shirt. 
“Giving in so easily, moya lyubov’? And here I thought you were the strict one.” Natasha teased, knowing fully what Wanda had intended on when she purposefully left the matching top in the drawer where the shorts used to lay. 
“I introduced her to a lot today. I’m not going to try and get her to take my fingers when I know that’s not what she wants.” Wanda merely shrugged, allowing her soft heart to bleed into her words for the briefest minute before she was slipping back into the headspace you craved. “Come here, my little duckling. Let’s get you all comfy.” Wanda pulled your body into hers, guiding your lips down to her chest. Her nipple was sensitive, sore from the earlier abuse, but she didn’t mind the sting of pain that came when your lips wrapped firmly around her skin. “You did so good today, milaya. So good.” 
Natasha curled herself around Wanda, keeping you close between the both of them. It wasn’t long before your lips fell slack around Wanda’s nipple and your breathing evened out. Wanda and Natasha smiled down at you endearingly, deciding there was no harm in taking a little nap after the day that they'd had.
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noneorother · 25 days
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I bought Aziraphale's Bible so you don't have to.
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Am I insane? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe. In most* of both season 1 and season 2 of GO, there's a very specific Bible on a bookstand next to Aziraphale's desk. It's a vintage illustrated plate book by Harold Copping, known as the Harold Copping Bible, published by the religious tract society in London in 1910. It features some of the most well known Old Testament stories, summarized and annotated by the Bishop of Durham at the time, and illustrated by Copping, who was freshly returned from a sojourn in the middle east. Ironically, It was meant as a lay-person's version of a comic book, short, exciting by use of exotic illustrations, and easy to read.
But my (expensive) gain is now your gain! As I've collected here every visible page in both seasons for your reading and viewing pleasure.
Season 1: All episodes Adam & Eve Genesis iii (1:3) / HCB page 10
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Season 2: Episode 1 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28
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S2E1 14:21, S2E1 17:41, S2E1 39:45
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Season 2: Episode 2 Jacob's vow Genesis xxviii (1:28) / HCB Page 22
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S2E2 5:49
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Season 2: Episode 2 Joseph known to his brethren Genesis xlv (1:45) / HCB Page 28
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S2E2 13:38 (see S2E1 above)
Season 2: Episode 2 The Brazen Serpent Numbers xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36
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S2E2 16:12, 43:40
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Season 2: Episode 2* Bible on the desk, Magazine on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)
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S2E2 22:10
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The French L'art pour tous industrial design periodical will have to be a story for another post. For now, just enjoy this 1880 edition copperplate of cherubs discovering a microscope...
Season 2: Episode 2 Imaginary page from HCB, Job KJV Job (18:1) / HCB N/A
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S2E2 22:29, S2E2 40:05 Obviously, the plate illustrations and text look different here than in the real bible, because they were created for the show. But there are a few more particularities here. For one, this layout with the thin grid around the text, as well as the paragraph symbol next to the first title, indicate that this would have been a printer's proof copy, not a finished book. It shows you the layout grid and can be annotated for changes. Second, there seems to be a war going on between fonts. Where the "chapter" of Job begins, we get a font and a style similar to the original bible, which gets rudely interrupted by a dropped capital (from the real book) and a Gothic-style font/verse numbers like in the original King James version of the printed Bible.
Season 2: Episode 3 The Brazen Serpent NUMBERS xxi (4:21) / HCB page 36
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S2E3 1:18 (see episode 2)
Season 2: Episode 5 By the Rivers of Babylon Pslam cxxxvii (19:137) / HCB page 52
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S2E5 21:20
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Season 2: Episode 6 Bible missing, L'art pour Tous on the stand Annuel L'art Pour Tous, Cover (1861-1880 most likely)
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S2E6 10:21, 17:21, 18:15, 34:28 (see episode 2)
Season 2: Episode 6 Closed HCB, L'art pour Tous on the stand behind HCB page 0
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S2E6 37:58, 44:20, 48:08
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