#I will accept other answers if they the reasoning is logical

[ask-dr-xeno]

This is why you can’t always trust AI. You need to develop your own critical thinking skills. Some of these answers are wrong- so wrong, in fact, that an elementary student could tell you why.

[enjoyvoidblack]

our big post was getting long and it won't let me message so I thought I'd just come bother you here asldkfjsad I am like. so 1000% certain there is mention in the text that the initial purpose and efforts of Jonah and the Institute were to research the fears and prevent their many catastrophes, and that somewhere along the line he came to the conclusion that this wasn't viable, that the world and the fears simply didn't function in a way that was conducive to meaningfully stopping them from doing anything. which was how he settled into the position of 'well then I am going to use the instruments of power to save ME and build a ladder to free myself personally from their clutches forever' I def don't know when he started to turn from that, but i'll have to go back through the transcripts and find it again.

I do get that the narrative is written with Jon as the focal point, and that doesn't leave a lot of room for Elias to be sympathetic--he certainly doesn't make himself sympathetic TO Jon, or any of the Archives crew (beyond what I find to be an interesting amount of patience, understanding, and restraint he shows for them), but I still think like. Part of the beauty of Jonny's storytelling is that there is a kernel of completely understandable humanity to most everyone that's presented with any depth in the series, even the people we DON'T like. The "people here don't have excuses, they have causes" is again really excellent wording. There isn't really a lot of the usual karmic style reasoning or justice in this series; it isn't about Good People doing Good Things or Bad People doing Bad Things, it's just. People Doing Things, while under the influence of powers that are at once cosmic and beyond us, and inherently OF us.

adsfkjas this is getting long too I'm so sorry you activated a trap card here but idk. He absolutely is both manipulator and victim. He did all that shit, and all the while it's being done TO him, and he's walking this incredibly razor thin line between feeding his god/being empowered by it, and bc of it's nature knowing in intimate detail every nasty thing that awaits him should he fail (and I think being deathly afraid of it). That gif from Knives Out lmfao, compels me.

(apologies this probably isn't hugely coherent but there we are)

Thank you I am chewing on this ask violently. You Get It.

Unfortunate that tumblr killed your paragraph breaks, because I now can't find the section easily, but that thing about Jonny's character work in this series entirely consisting of aspects of "completely understandable humanity" is SO deeply how I feel about it. This is part of why I love horror of this kind so much. The horror being the fact that no one can really do anything to stop it opens up a space where the characters don't need to be presented along clear lines of good and evil, or even helping a cause or hurting it. It's a lot closer to how real people react in a natural disaster, if anything. There is love and selfishness and incredible acts of violence and cruelty and understandable failings and greed and fear, and pretty much all of it has a root that you can see, if you know enough about the people doing it and the circumstances to really feel where their mindset must be. I'd say Elias is functionally the closest thing TMA has to a narrative scapegoat, but that doesn't mean he is one. I almost feel like he's there as a pressure valve for the story, to be a villain if people need one to make sense of what's going on without having to constantly confront head-on the horror of the way the setting traps everyone in it. He can be made that kind of scapegoat, but only really by ignoring the parallels to Jon and the letters sent to him in older statements, and the way both show how the Fears drive the people who learn about them into more and more desperate straits.

It's kind of like that with all the older avatars. Simon Fairchild throws people off of stuff for a joke, because he's had more than 400 years of being steeped in the knowledge that humanity is both insignificant in the span of the universe, as well as utterly incapable of stopping the course of the Fears as they exert whatever influence they will by the force of sheer bulk. Peter Lukas never had a chance - he was born into this, isolation was his family and religion and paradoxically from childhood his only possible road to belonging. Adelard Dekker thought he was helping, as did Gertrude, even as they both fed the things that claimed them alongside those efforts. Nikola Orsinov was so far away from having an identity anymore that she couldn't go back if she wanted to, if she had even had enough left to want. Her world would have just been a home that was more like herself, and who hasn't wanted that? They're easier to vilify because their outlooks are harder to understand until the very end of the series, but looking back it's so clear that they were also just people once, and the writing never really lets you forget that.

If I said I'd tried to make all of these replies short, you probably wouldn't believe me. And Yet. I am not NORMAL about this show and the way Jonny writes people.

[icantbelieveitsnotbutler]

Does Sebastian Believe Ciel's Lies? (Do You?)

At various points in the manga, Ciel lies to Sebastian or to others in an effort to seem less emotionally vulnerable and invested in the things and people around him.

In some instances, Sebastian seems to see through it easily.

In other scenes, it's harder to tell what Sebastian is thinking. When I first read them, I thought it was obvious that Ciel was putting on a front to protect himself, and Sebastian, with hundreds if not thousands of years of experience with humans, would immediately realize that. Now, with the way Sebastian has been acting in more recent arcs, I'm not so sure.

After Madame Red's funeral, Sebastian accuses Ciel of being too kind, i.e. too emotionally attached to Madame Red to shoot her with his concealed gun when it became apparent that she was (half of) Jack the Ripper and she attacked him. Ciel answers that he didn't need to because Sebastian would have saved him. When Sebastian points out that Ciel stopped Sebastian when he tried to kill her to save him, Ciel says that he didn't think Madame Red really would have killed him.

The first time I read this, I thought Ciel was making up excuses after the fact, and that in the moment he didn't shoot her and stopped Sebastian because he cared about her. I still believe this, but I've realized that Sebastian might not.

Ciel goes on to say that Madame Red's weakness was that she hesitated to kill him, and that he himself doesn't have that weakness. This delights Sebastian so much that he gets chills.

I always assumed he was reacting like that because of the contrast between Ciel's tough words and actual feelings, like after the ring-breaking incident.

Now I think it's possible that he's accepting Ciel's words as the truth and is happy that his master is so cold.

A similar situation occurs after the incident at Kelvin's manor. In response to Sebastian's questioning, Ciel insists that he is visiting the circus troupe's orphanage not for emotional reasons, but because it is his duty as a nobleman to see what can be done for them now that their benefactor is gone. He also claims that he ordered Sebastian to burn Kelvin's manor with the children inside because, due to his detached, extremely logic-based reasoning, he came to the conclusion that they would be better off dead.

Again, I dont believe a word. Ciel told Sebastian to burn those kids because he was having a panic attack and he wanted Sebastian to get rid of the trigger. He's going to the orphanage because he knows he did something atrocious and wants to help, to save, the helpless. This is what I believe.

But does Sebastian? He drops the topic with a noncommittal response, I assumed because he knew pressing Ciel would only get more of the same justifications or irritate him, but now I'm not sure.

The most recent example I could find of this type of scene, where Ciel tries to conceal attachment and sentimentality with indifference, is after the public school arc.

Sebastian offers him a letter from McMillan but Ciel rejects it, ostensibly because he's done with the case and has no attachment to any of the people there.

Sebastian later opens it and finds a photograph of Ciel with his cricket team. Instead of offering it to Ciel, who thought it was just a letter and might feel differently about a photograph, Sebastian burns it.

This would be quite cruel and not worthy of a butler if Sebastian believed what I believe: that Ciel didn't want the letter because he is terrified of becoming attached to people and then putting them in danger and losing them. But I don't think Sebastian realizes Ciel is lying. I think Sebastian believes Ciel is as cold and detached as Sebastian himself, or at least on the way to being so.

In the beginning Ciel was just another human to Sebastian. But increasingly, he seems to be acting more like he views the world as 'us compared to them', rather than 'Sebastian compared to everyone else'.

In the circus arc, after Sebastian lets the snakes out before Ciel had a chance to get away, Ciel confronts him about it. For some reason, Sebastian seems surprised by his accusatory tone.

Sebastian explains that he was only following orders and that Ciel knows he wouldn't have let him get hurt, so he assumed Ciel would view his actions as an exciting addition to their game.

The most obvious and probable interpretation of this scene is that Sebastian is being sarcastic (does the contract rule against lying allow sarcasm?) and he released the snakes because he's a spiteful freak. He's turning the things Ciel has said against him (that Sebastian is only a pawn who acts according to Ciel's orders; that Ciel doesn't have to worry about his safety because Sebastian is required to save him).

But assuming that Sebastian thinks Ciel is like him, or becoming like him, the scene changes.

When Sebastian says, "As young master is insatiable when it comes to games, I assumed you felt the same way," perhaps he's being serious. This would explain his confusion at Ciel's anger. He's laughing and his fangs come out and his pupils go slitted because he's getting a rush from playing with Ciel, and he thinks Ciel is having fun as well. And he really is flattered that Ciel thinks his "idea of sport" is in bad taste, because for a demon, that's a good thing. This isn't how humans play, but it is how demons play.

But Ciel isn't a demon. He's a human child with human emotions, and if Sebastian has somehow allowed himself to be convinced by his facade, I can't imagine it ending well for either of them if he realizes his mistake.

[odileeclipse]

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 26

<<<Previous Next>>>

You exhaled, frustrated with the careful wording. “But-”

“I understand why you sought certainty elsewhere,” he continued, not quite meeting your eyes. “It is not a crime to desire clarity.” 

Your heart twisted. He was trying to let you off the hook. To take the logical approach, the reasonable stance. But the distance in his words, the way he refused to acknowledge the ache beneath it all that was what stung.

“Okay, but-” You swallowed, shifting from one foot to the other. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t bother you.” 

He was silent for a long moment. His golden eyes were steady, unreadable. But beneath the quiet composure, there was something softer, something unread.

“…I am not immune to such things,” he admitted, so quietly that you almost missed it. Your breath caught. It was subtle. Barely a crack in the mask. But it was real. You took a step forward, hesitant. 

But he had already exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the walls were back in place. “We need not dwell on it,” he murmured. “Unless you wish to.”

Your fingers clenched at your sides. He was frustrating. Even now, even when you could feel the tension between you, he still left the decision in your hands. He still gave you the choice. You wanted to push. To demand an answer, to hear him say outright that it did matter to him, that he did feel something more than composed acceptance. 

But part of you, that small, cautious part was afraid of what you’d do if he actually said it. So instead, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “…No. We don’t have to dwell on it.” 

His expression didn’t change, but you thought you saw something ease in his posture. You chewed the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling small in the weight of the quiet. “…But if it does bother you, I want you to tell me.”

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he gave a single, slow nod. A promise. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The silence between you stretched taut, thin like thread pulled too tightly. Shadow Milk Cookie hadn’t rejected your words outright, hadn’t turned away or brushed them off with his usual grace. And yet, he wasn’t answering you either. That alone made your stomach twist. You could almost convince yourself to let it go. Almost. If not for the very distinct, very loud voice of Chai Latte Cookie echoing in your head…

"Oh, so you just walked away? Just like that? Gods, you are hopeless…"

And nope, you were not dealing with that tonight. You exhaled sharply through your nose, squaring your shoulders. “You say you’re not mad,” you started, keeping your voice even, “but I know when something’s bothering you.”

A blink. A slow tilt of his head. “I have never concealed the truth from you,” he said calmly.

“That doesn’t mean you tell me everything,” you shot back, quick. A flicker of something passed through his gaze, there and gone before you could name it. “…What is it that you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, throwing your hands up. “I just” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to keep the frustration at bay. “It just feels like something’s wrong. And you’re not saying it.” 

Shadow Milk studied you carefully, fingers laced together in his lap. “Would you feel better if I gave it words?” Yes. No. Maybe. You hesitated. He watched the conflict cross your face, then, softer almost gently he asked,

“…Would naming it change what you already know?” You swallowed. He wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t telling you no. He was just making you work for the truth, again.

“Stars above, you are infuriating,” you groaned, pressing your palms to your face.

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. You let out a heavy sigh, then, before you could lose the momentum, you asked “…Did it hurt?”

Another silence. This time, it wasn’t because he was thinking of the right words to use. It was because he already knew them. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, measured “…Yes.”

No flourish. No philosophical musings. No metaphor spun from light and knowledge. Just one word. You searched his face for something, anything, but he had already composed himself again, golden eyes steady, patient, waiting. 

“…Okay,” you murmured. You still didn’t know what to do with this. What this changed. If it changed anything at all. But for once, you had the answer you wanted. You let out a breath, your shoulders sagging as the weight of his honesty settled over you.

He had answered you. Had admitted to the hurt but what were you supposed to do with that? You chewed the inside of your cheek, staring at him, feeling the helplessness rise in your chest. You were expecting something cryptic, something layered, something you could untangle later. But he had just… said it. Plain and clear. And you had no idea what to do with it.

“…Okay,” you murmured again, softer this time. You looked away, fingers tightening in your lap. “I” A pause, a slow exhale. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression didn’t change, but you could feel the way he studied you, taking in every flicker of uncertainty, every hesitance in your voice. You huffed, rubbing a hand over your face. “What can I do?” You looked back at him, brows drawn together, frustration tinged with something raw. “So you’re not hurting?” He didn’t answer right away.

It sucked, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to fix this. You were a mess of emotions, but at least you felt them fully, unguarded, reckless in your own way. He was careful, composed, measured, even in this. 

You let out another sigh, shaking your head. “Chai Latte usually knows what to do,” you muttered, more to yourself than him. “But unfortunately, she’s not here.” The words barely left your lips before you huffed out a weak laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Not that she could fix this.” There was another beat of silence before he spoke, voice quiet but steady.

“You are not required to fix everything,” he murmured. “Nor am I asking you to.” You swallowed, but something in his words still made your chest ache. “…Then what are you asking?”

He watched you carefully, his expression unreadable, but his next words were softer than before “For you to understand.” You felt the weight of that settle deep in your ribs. Maybe that was the closest thing to an answer you were going to get. You inhaled sharply, catching yourself before you could default to humor; to deflection.

It was instinct, really, to try and soften the edges of something too sharp, to push aside the weight pressing against your chest with something light, something easier. But this wasn’t easy. And trying to make it so would only cheapen it. So instead, you swallowed the urge to brush it off and met his gaze fully.

“…What do you want me to understand?” you asked, voice steadier than you expected. “Because I do want to understand.”

 Shadow Milk Cookie studied you, his eyes as unreadable as ever. But there was something in them you could almost decipher, not distant, but careful. Like he was measuring his words, measuring you. 

“What did I do?” you pressed, leaning forward slightly. “I mean, I know something upset you. I know that. But I don’t want to assume. I don’t want to sit here and untangle riddles and guesses when I could just…just ask you. So tell me.”

His fingers twitched slightly against his desk, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed for the briefest moment. It was subtle, controlled, but it was there. “You turned to someone else,” he finally said, his voice as measured as ever, but you could feel the weight behind it. “For clarity. For certainty.”

 Your breath caught in your throat. “And you feel like I shouldn’t have?” 

His gaze didn’t waver. “I feel as though you believe I could not provide what you sought.” 

You blinked, your stomach twisting. “That’s not-” You exhaled sharply. “It’s not that I don’t think you could, it’s that you wouldn’t.” 

His brows furrowed slightly, just enough for you to notice. You ran a hand through your hair, frustration bleeding into your voice. “You never give me a straight answer. You always ask me more questions, always make me figure things out myself. And I get it, I do that’s who you are. You guide, you lead people to truth rather than hand it to them.” You swallowed, looking down at your hands. “But sometimes… sometimes I just need something certain. Something I don’t have to search for.”

There was a silence between you, thick and heavy. And then, softer than before “You already have it.” Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “You seek certainty,” he murmured. “But you fail to see that you already possess it.” You opened your mouth, but no words came. His gaze held yours, unwavering.

“I would not remain by your side if I did not wish to.” Your breath stilled. “Nor would I offer my hand if I intended to let go.”

The weight of his words pressed into you, a truth undeniable. Something in your chest ached. Your brows furrowed, confusion knitting its way across your face. 

“That’s” you started, but stopped, shaking your head. “That’s not fair.” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head ever so slightly, unreadable as always, but you could feel the weight behind his gaze, the way it pressed into you like a question unspoken. 

You swallowed, exhaling sharply. “Look, I-I hear you. I want to hear you. But I’m only human. And sometimes I don’t see what’s right in front of me.” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, frustration creeping into your tone. “If I knew, if it was so obvious, then I wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure it out, would I?”

The silence that followed was thick, a quiet so full it threatened to suffocate. Your chest tightened as the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. “Earl Grey is one of the very few friends that I love-” You froze. The second you said it, you knew. You knew how it sounded. Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you immediately waved your hands as if that could physically push the word back into the void. “I mean, not like that!” you blurted out, scrambling to fix your own mistake. “Not, not in that way! I just I mean, I love him, but not like that, that would be weird”

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t move, didn’t even blink. But you felt it the shift, the tightening of something just beneath the surface. You swallowed hard, heat crawling up your neck as you kept spiraling. “What I meant is, he’s my friend, like Chai Latte Cookie and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, because we grew up together, and he’s-he’s someone I trust someone who always gives me a straight answer”

Your voice trailed off, the weight of the moment crashing down on you. Shadow Milk Cookie was silent. And that made it worse.

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “I just… I don’t think it’s fair to assume I should already know where we stand.” 

Your voice wavered, frustration mingling with something raw. “Because I don’t. And if I did, then we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place, would we? A-And to top it off all he was doing was supporting me it’s not like I told him hey what do you think me and shadow milk are define it for me in five different languages please” 

Still, he said nothing. You swallowed, something almost desperate threading into your tone. “So if I did something wrong, tell me. If I’m missing something, tell me because I want to understand, I want to fix it, but I can’t do that if you just expect me to figure it out on my own.” 

Your heart pounded, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then, at last, Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled. Slow. Measured. The tension in the air thickened, something shifting in Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression something rare, something sharp. His composure, always so steady, finally wavered.

“You needed someone to say it?” His voice was low, quiet, but lined with something unmistakable. Frustration. “You needed someone to define it for you? So you turned to him?” You flinched at the way he said it him like the word alone was bitter on his tongue.

“I-” Shadow Milk Cookie got up from his chair took a step closer, his golden eyes dark with something you had never seen before. “Tell me, did it feel real then?” His tone wasn’t cruel, not exactly, but it carried an edge that cut all the same. 

“Did holding his hands make you feel certain of what you wanted? Did his words finally name the thing you claim to be so unsure of?” Your throat tightened.

“That’s not-”

“You seek my truths,” he interrupted, voice clipped. “But when it comes to this us you look elsewhere. Why is that?” 

The words hit harder than you expected, and you had to take a breath before responding. “…Okay. Fair.” You exhaled shakily, pressing your fingers against your forehead. “I deserved that.” 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. You forced a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I know what it looked like. And I won’t sit here and act like it didn’t look bad. But you need to understand…I wasn’t looking for something better than what you could give me. I was looking for something clear.”

Shadow Milk Cookie remained silent, watching you carefully, his breathing measured but not entirely even. “I didn’t go to him because I wanted him,” you continued, voice steady now. “I went to him because I trust him. Because he knows me, because he’s been around long enough to see me flounder through every uncertainty in my life. And I thought” 

You swallowed. “I thought that maybe, for once, someone else could put it into words instead of me having to reach for something I still don’t know how to hold.”

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders shifting, but not entirely easing. You met his gaze, unflinching. “You’re right to be mad,” you admitted. “I should have come to you first. But you have to admit you don’t make this easy.”

A pause. A long, heavy one.

Then, finally, Shadow Milk Cookie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” he said, exasperated. “I suppose I do not.”

You let out a breath, the weight between you shifting just slightly. It wasn’t fixed, not entirely. But at least now, the words were out. You exhaled sharply, raking a hand through your hair, trying to figure out where to even start. 

“Okay context” you said, voice tinged with frustration, mostly at yourself. “Because I feel like you’re imagining something way more dramatic than what actually happened.” Shadow Milk Cookie remained silent, watching you carefully, his expression unreadable but the tension in his posture still firm. 

You inhaled again, steeling yourself. “So, it started because Chai Latte asked me about us. She asked what was going on, what we were…if we were anything at all.”

His expression didn’t change, but you caught the slightest flicker in his golden gaze. You continued, shifting your weight uneasily. “And I didn’t really know what to tell her, because I don’t know. So I said that we’re… close. That we have this understanding, this rhythm. But there’s still this barrier, this thing we don’t talk about, and it’s starting to feel like it’s keeping us from something.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t speak. He just listened.

“And then Earl Grey…” You hesitated, feeling yourself losing your footing again, but forced yourself forward. “He said maybe you were waiting for me to define it. That maybe you were giving me room, instead of putting pressure on it.” 

Still, no response. But you saw something shift subtle, beneath the layers of his composure. You bit your lip. “And then Chai Latte asked me if not knowing still hurt, and yeah. Yeah, it does. Because it’s like we’re pretending the line isn’t there, but we both know it is. And it’s frustrating, and confusing, and I just. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t making it up in my head.”

Your voice had become quieter, the words trailing off into the space between you. “That’s all I was looking for. I wasn’t asking Earl Grey for something you wouldn’t give me. I wasn’t” You sighed. “I wasn’t choosing him over you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders shifting, though not entirely easing. His gaze remained steady, searching yours, as if weighing your words, measuring them against something unspoken. You swallowed, feeling like you were walking on thin ice. “I wasn’t looking for something better than what we have. Just something clear. And maybe that’s unfair to you, but I-” You shook your head. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

A long silence stretched between you.

Then, finally soft, measured, but undeniably firm Shadow Milk Cookie spoke.

“…And do you have your answer now?”

You opened your mouth, then hesitated.  Because what was the answer? That you still didn’t know? That you were still standing at the same threshold, waiting for something, anything, to push you forward? “I don’t know,” you admitted finally, voice almost reluctant. “Not completely.”

His gaze didn’t falter. “Then what will you do with what you do know?” 

You let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “Gods, this again?” You threw your hands up. “I ask a question, you answer with another question…I swear you do this on purpose.” Something softened in his expression just barely, just enough that the irritation drained from your chest slightly.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “What do you want me to understand?” you asked finally, your voice quieter. “Because I do want to understand.” Shadow Milk Cookie studied you for a long moment, his golden eyes searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see every inch of your soul.

Then, at last, he exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. And he said, “That you were never meant to seek certainty in someone else.” Shadow Milk Cookie remained still, his golden gaze locked onto yours, the weight of his presence heavy yet unreadable. The tension in the room lingered, an unspoken verdict hanging in the air. You shifted, exhaling slowly before speaking again, voice softer now.

"Okay," you murmured, as if sealing something sacred between you both. "Then… when it comes to this whatever we are I won’t seek answers anywhere else." The promise felt heavier than you expected. It settled deep in your chest, final in a way you hadn’t prepared for. No more looking to Earl Grey Cookie, no more second-guessing with Chai Latte Cookie or Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie….just the two of you, stumbling through this uncertainty together.

"But," you continued, voice lilting into something more playful, "please don’t stay mad at Earl Grey. I need him. Sometimes, if I bribe him enough, he does my homework."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, against all odds, Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet, breathy exhale not quite a laugh, but something near it. His head tilted slightly, as if amused despite himself. "Does he now?" he mused, voice still measured but laced with something lighter.

You grinned, encouraged by the shift in the air. "Yeah. And I worked really hard to build up my bribery system. I offer him peace and quiet in the library, sometimes I even make him tea" You leaned in just slightly, as if confessing something devious. "One time I even stole a pastry for him."

"A criminal enterprise," Shadow Milk murmured, gaze flickering with something indecipherable.

"Exactly!" You huffed dramatically. "So if you hold this against him, my whole operation collapses. And then who’s going to keep me from failing numerical alchemy?"

He hummed, considering. "A tragic fate indeed."

"You’re telling me."

There was a pause brief but filled with something unspoken, something easier now. The tension between you had not entirely faded, but it had shifted, no longer sharp, no longer an open wound. You weren’t fixed…this wasn’t fixed. But it was something.

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, then, after a moment, inclined his head. "I will not hold it against him."

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Yes," he said, tilting his head just slightly. "On one condition."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "What condition?"

He leaned forward just enough that the space between you felt smaller, his gaze steady. "That next time you have questions about us," he said, low and sure, "you ask me first."

Your breath hitched slightly, heart stuttering at the sheer weight of the words.

Slowly, carefully, you nodded. "Deal."

And just like that, the barrier between you both thinned just a little more.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, wrapping your arms around him in a firm, earnest embrace. It wasn’t hesitant or unsure it was the kind of hug that sought to pull down whatever walls still lingered, the kind that said, I don’t want to be at odds with you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice muffled slightly against the fabric of his clothes. "I don’t want to be upset with you. I never did." For a long moment, he didn’t move. But then, slowly, you felt his arms come around you, careful but firm, as if grounding himself in your presence. His touch was warm, steady like something meant to last. You swallowed, the words pressing against your throat before you could second-guess them.

"But…" You exhaled softly, fingers curling slightly. "I need to know. What are we?" You felt his breath hitch, ever so slightly. "If we’re partners, then say it," you continued, voice quieter now. "Or if you want us to stay undefined, then tell me that too. But I" You swallowed. "I want to know what you want. I want to hear you say it."

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you properly, golden eyes searching yours with that same quiet intensity that always made your heart feel unsteady. His hands remained on you, warm against your shoulders, holding you there not keeping you, not trapping you, but anchoring you.

And then, finally, he spoke.

"I do not seek mere companionship," he murmured. His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable weight to it. "I do not walk beside you simply because it is convenient or pleasant."

Your chest tightened.

"I will exist for a long time," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "And yet, I find myself wanting for nothing else but this." 

His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your sleeve, as if mapping the moment into memory. "If you would have me, then I would be yours as a partner, as more, as whatever name you would wish to give it."

Your breath caught.

"But only if it is what you want," he added, voice gentler now, as if afraid to ask too much. Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of the moment pressing into you, warm and consuming. There were no riddles this time, no half-answers hidden behind layers of philosophy. 

This was just him. Your lips parted, but no words came at first, just breath just the realization of everything he'd just offered. Everything you both had been too afraid to name until now. And then, with a small, quiet laugh one filled with something like relief, like understanding you nodded.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Yeah, I think I’d like that." Shadow Milk Cookie’s fingers tightened, just slightly, against your arms. Maybe the barrier between you truly disappeared. You shifted slightly in his hold, tilting your head up to look at him, trying to ease the weight in the air with something lighter something that made this moment feel less fragile, less like a thread you might snap if you weren’t careful.

"So," you said, a playful lilt creeping into your tone, "on a scale of one to ten, how mad were you? And more importantly who were you mad at?" You waggled your brows for extra effect. 

"Be honest. Was it me? Earl Grey? The concept of human interaction?" Shadow Milk Cookie sighed one of those long, tired ones that felt like it belonged to someone who had lived far too many years and still had yet to understand why mortals acted the way they did. His grip on you didn’t loosen, but his eyes half-lidded with something unreadable.

"You truly wish for me to quantify my frustration?" he mused, arching a delicate brow.

You grinned. "Absolutely."

A pause. Then, with alarming precision, he replied, "Seven."

Your mouth dropped open. "Seven?! That's high! I was expecting, like, a four, maybe a five! Six if you were being dramatic."

Shadow Milk Cookie gave you a slow, pointed look. "Seven."

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "Okay, okay, fine. Who was it aimed at? Me? Earl Grey? The entire notion of emotionally repressed scholars trying to navigate their relationships without imploding?" 

He exhaled slowly, and for a moment, you thought he might actually let the joke slide. But instead ever the scholar he answered you plainly. "Four points belong to you."

You gasped. "Excuse me?! I get a four?! For what? Trying to sort out my emotions? For wanting clarity?!"

"You sought clarity," he corrected smoothly, "but you sought it elsewhere." He tilted his head, as if studying you like a particularly challenging text. "That is where the four comes from."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Okay. Fair. Fair.

You crossed your arms. "And the other three?"

Shadow Milk Cookie's lips curled ever so slightly. "Earl Grey."

You snorted, then immediately clamped a hand over your mouth. "Oh no."

He did not elaborate.

You took a careful step back, watching the unreadable glint in his golden gaze. "Okay, but you’re not going to, like… sabotage his tea leaves or anything, right?"

"I am above such pettiness."

"...You hesitated."

"I did not."

"You did, I heard it!"

He merely hummed, a noise that sounded both knowing and entirely too neutral for your comfort. You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. "Alright, alright. I get it. I deserve my four. But can I earn my way back to a three? Or even a respectable two-point-five? Because I would really like to lower my crimes in the court of Shadow Milk." 

He regarded you for a moment, then, with unnerving smoothness, said, "I accept bribes."

You gaped at him. You huffed, crossing your arms with exaggerated indignation. “Fine,” you drawled, tilting your head with mock exasperation. “If we’re playing this game, then what do you want? Name your price, oh great and wise one. What must I sacrifice to lessen my crimes?”

Shadow Milk Cookie hummed, eyes gleaming as he took his time considering, tapping his fingers idly against his sleeve. He was enjoying this far too much, if you had to guess.

“A proper bribe must be proportional to the severity of the offense,” he mused, tilting his head slightly as if weighing his options. “And yours, I recall, ranked at a seven.”

You groaned. “You’re really sticking to that number, huh?”

“I am nothing if not precise.” You muttered something incoherent under your breath, but Shadow Milk didn’t seem remotely fazed. If anything, he looked downright pleased with himself.

“Alright,” he continued, regarding you with that unreadable yet slightly mischievous expression of his. “If you wish to lower your score… I will accept one of three offerings.”

You squinted suspiciously. “Oh, three offerings? So now I choose my punishment?”

“I am nothing if not generous.”

You rolled your eyes, but gestured for him to go on. “Alright, lay them on me. What are my options?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s lips curled ever so slightly, a whisper of amusement passing through his gaze. “Option one: an essay. Minimum ten pages. On the subject of why seeking truth from unreliable sources is a grave mistake.”

Your mouth fell open in absolute horror. “TEN PAGES?” He inclined his head. “Minimum.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately. “What else you got?”

“Option two.” He held up a single, elegant finger. “You may publicly declare that I am always right, in front of all our friends. And,” he added smoothly, “that you were terribly mistaken to ever doubt me.”

You made a scandalized noise. “Oh, you would enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

You sighed, pressing your palms together. “Alright, third option, oh merciful one?” Shadow Milk Cookie leaned forward ever so slightly, a glint of something far too entertained flickering across his features. “A kiss,” he said simply.

You choked. “Excuse me?” He arched a single brow. “A kiss,” he repeated, entirely unaffected by the way your face had surely turned crimson. “One that is freely given, of course. I would never demand an unwilling tribute.”

“Oh, tribute now?” you sputtered, half-wheezing, half-wondering how you ever got yourself into this. “You’re actually serious?”

“I would not have offered it otherwise,” he said smoothly. You gawked at him, heart hammering, mind scrambling for anything to counter with. But he merely leaned back, utterly unbothered, utterly composed as he watched you flounder.

“Well?” he prompted, entirely too pleased with himself. “Which shall it be?” You slipped out of his arms, pacing a small circle around his office like a scholar on the verge of an intellectual breakthrough. 

Hands clasped behind your back, you hummed thoughtfully, nodding to yourself as if the weight of your impending verdict was a matter of utmost importance. Shadow Milk Cookie watched, entirely composed, one brow arched in clear amusement. He didn’t interrupt didn’t press you for an answer just observed with that knowing glint in his eyes, as if he already knew the conclusion you would come to. You, of course, already knew too.

But for the sake of theatrics, you had to pretend to struggle with your options. You rubbed your chin, adopting a dramatically serious expression. 

“Now, let’s analyze this logically.” You began to pace again. “A ten-page essay on why I should never doubt you?” You let out a loud scoff, throwing your hands in the air. “Impossible! An insurmountable task! I’d perish before I reached the third page!”

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t so much as blink. “Unfortunate.” You ignored him, continuing your performance.

“The second option: a public declaration of your undeniable correctness, and a full admission of my egregious mistake.”

You placed a hand over your heart, as if wounded. “Ah, but alas! To speak such words before witnesses, to willingly feed your ego in front of Chai Latte Cookie, Earl Grey Cookie, and Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie? I would never recover!”

“Fascinating,” he mused. Your pacing slowed. You turned on your heel, finally facing him, your expression shifting from exaggerated suffering to something more calculated. More certain.

“That leaves only one option,” you murmured.

His golden gaze was steady, unshaken. “Indeed.”

A pause. Then, ever so casually “Well, I guess I’ll start drafting that essay-”

Before you could take another step, Shadow Milk Cookie reached out, fingers curling gently around your wrist. Not tight not demanding just enough to halt your retreat, just enough to keep you in place. You stilled, heart stuttering. His touch was warm. Steady. You met his eyes, and suddenly, the theatrics didn’t feel as necessary anymore. There was something in his gaze that made the moment feel weightless. 

As if, beneath all the teasing, beneath all the playful back-and-forth, there was a quiet invitation in the way he held you there. Not a demand. Not an expectation. Just… waiting.

You exhaled slowly, your pulse a restless rhythm against your ribs. Then, with a sigh of faux defeat, you let yourself be pulled back toward him. “Fine,” you murmured, lips curling slightly. “You win.”

“I usually do,” he murmured back.

And before he could say another infuriating word, you leaned in and kissed him. You pulled back just slightly, not far enough to break the warmth between you, but enough to catch the flicker of something unguarded in his eyes. His golden gaze, always so sharp, so knowing, had softened just a little. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the moment you’d handed him. You studied him for a beat, then tilted your head, your voice a quiet tease but carrying a weight beneath it.

“Well?” you asked, lips barely suppressing a smirk. “Are you happy with yourself?” Shadow Milk Cookie blinked once, slow and measured, as if truly considering it. Then, his lips curled not into his usual knowing smirk, not into something grand or theatrical, but into something softer. Something real.

“…Yes,” he murmured. “Immensely.” Your chest ached not in a painful way, but in that annoying, wonderful way that came from realizing just how much you felt for him. Still, you refused to let him have the last word so easily. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Ugh. You’re so smug about it.”

“I believe the proper term is vindicated,” he corrected smoothly. You groaned, dramatically slumping against him like the weight of his self-satisfaction was simply too much to bear. “I take it back. I should have just written the essay.”

He chuckled, a rare, low sound, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I would have graded it ruthlessly.”

“Of course you would have,” you mumbled, your forehead still resting against his shoulder.

His hand found the small of your back, resting there like a quiet reassurance. “But you chose the wiser path.”

You sighed dramatically. “I suppose.” He hummed, and the sound was almost fond. “You suppose?” You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze again, feeling warmth creep up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

His fingers curled just slightly against your back, his voice dipping to something quieter. “No promises.” You leaned back just enough to take him in, eyes flickering over his features composed, unreadable, yet carrying the smallest flicker of something beneath the surface. Smug, as always. Secure in his victory. Well. That simply wouldn’t do. So, on pure impulse, without warning, without pretense. 

You kissed him again. It was nothing grand, nothing calculated or poetic. Just a soft press of your lips against his, a decision made without hesitation. And this time, it worked. You felt him freeze. The smirk he had been carrying so effortlessly vanished like mist under the sun, his composure breaking in a way you’d never seen before. His breath hitched, his fingers twitched slightly where they rested against you, he looked utterly caught off guard.

His face bloomed in warmth, color rushing to his cheeks in a way that felt almost surreal. Shadow Milk Cookie the Sage of Truth, the Fount of Knowledge, the ever-unshaken scholar was blushing. You pulled back just slightly, blinking at him. And then you grinned.

“Oh,” you mused, utterly delighted. “Oh. You’re flustered.” Shadow Milk Cookie cleared his throat, turning his face slightly, though the betrayal of color on his skin remained. “I-” He exhaled sharply, golden eyes darting away for a brief moment, as if trying to recollect himself. “That was unprompted.”

You laughed, light, full of something almost victorious. “Was it?” His gaze snapped back to you, sharp, narrowed but that warmth hadn’t left him. “You-” He exhaled again, softer this time, and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if trying to summon some divine patience. 

You merely rocked back slightly, resting your chin on your palm, studying him with all the amusement in the world. “I take it that means I won this round?”

His lips parted likely to counter with something witty, something to salvage his pride but no words came. Instead, after a long pause, he sighed. “You are…” He trailed off, as if searching for the exact right phrase, before shaking his head slightly, voice quieter when he finally spoke.

“…Absolutely impossible.”

You smiled. “So I’m told.” His gaze softened, and though the warmth hadn’t faded from his cheeks, there was something else in his expression now.

Something fond.

“…Indeed,” he murmured.

 That was perhaps the real victory. Your victorious grin lingered for a moment longer before, suddenly, realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Your eyes widened. “Oh!” Shadow Milk Cookie barely had time to react before you grabbed his hands, your excitement surging in an instant. “The Spire!”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden shift in energy. “…What about it?” You nearly bounced in place, your earlier mischief momentarily forgotten. “We got in! All of us! Me, Chai Latte, Earl Grey, Hazelnut Biscotti all of us got into the Spire of Knowledge!” 

“…You did.”

You beamed at him, nodding rapidly. “We did! I mean, I knew the others would get in, but me?” You laughed, somewhere between exhilarated and still slightly stunned. “I honestly thought I’d be scraping by if I got in at all. But then, bam my name was right there on the list.”

You squeezed his hands lightly, eyes shining. “It had to be your recommendation letter. That’s what did it.”

His brow arched slightly. “And here I thought your own merit played a role in it.” 

You scoffed playfully, nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh, please. We both know I was struggling not too long ago. The only reason I didn’t flunk my way straight into academic exile is because you’re a ridiculously good tutor.”

His lips curved ever so slightly, but his tone remained measured. “I recall saying you had potential. You simply needed guidance.”

“And, oh, what guidance it was,” you teased. “Your incredible patience, your endless wisdom your unparalleled ability to confuse me with riddles until I understood the material out of sheer spite” 

He let out a quiet hum, shaking his head in amusement. “I do not recall ‘spite-driven comprehension’ being a recognized academic method.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He chuckled, and stars, you wished you could capture that sound, tuck it away somewhere safe. 

Your grin softened slightly, your excitement still bubbling beneath the surface but with something else now something grateful. “…Thank you,” you said, quieter this time. “Really. I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you for a long moment, his golden eyes steady, warm. Then, with a voice equally as soft, he murmured,

“I simply illuminated the path. You were the one who walked it.” And damn it, he always had to make things sound poetic, didn’t he? You huffed, but your smile didn’t waver. Instead, you squeezed his hands once more, rocking back on your heels. “Okay, okay, enough of that should we celebrate? Because I personally think this calls for excessive amounts of dessert.”

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled, though his expression betrayed his amusement. “Excessive, you say?”

“Absolutely excessive,” you confirmed, determined. “We’re talking at least three pastries and a cup of tea so sweet it should be illegal.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering. “…And if I were to decline?”

You gasped, feigning offense. “I’d simply have to make up for your share. A sacrifice, truly, but one I’d be willing to bear.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and finally he nodded.

“Very well,” he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Lead the way, then.” And just like that, your victory tasted even sweeter. 

As you entered the dining hall, the first thing you noticed was complete and utter chaos.

“HAZELNUT BISCUOTTI COOKIE, YOU ABSOLUTE FIEND GET BACK HERE!”

Chai Latte Cookie’s furious voice rang through the air, followed by the thunderous sound of running footsteps. Students instinctively cleared out of the way as Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie sprinted past the tables, a guilty grin stretched across his face and a half-eaten pastry clutched in one hand.

You blinked.

Shadow Milk Cookie, standing beside you, exhaled deeply, already looking regretful about following you here. Your gaze landed on Earl Grey Cookie, who stood completely unfazed near the buffet station, watching the scene unfold with all the emotional investment of someone observing a light drizzle. 

You approached him cautiously. “What’s going on?” Without missing a beat, Earl Grey Cookie, still holding his tray with perfect balance, responded, “Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie took the last almond puff pastry. Chai Latte Cookie was two seconds too late.”

You looked at him incredulously. “So, she’s trying to kill him over a pastry?”

“She’s making a point,” he corrected smoothly.

“I called dibs!” Chai Latte Cookie shouted, narrowly avoiding knocking over an entire stack of plates as she chased Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie in circles around the tables.

“It was a suggestion at best!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie called back, absolutely delighted with himself.

“You knew I was going to get it!” she seethed.

Earl Grey Cookie gave a slight shrug. “She did mention it before we got here.” Shadow Milk Cookie, watching this absurd display, muttered under his breath, “I should not have come. I’ll turn a blind eye and walk off.” 

You patted his arm, grinning. “No, no. This is exactly what you needed.” Before he could reply, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie made the fatal mistake of slowing down just enough for Chai Latte Cookie to pounce. With a dramatic yelp, he toppled forward, and the remains of the pastry flew from his hands, landing unceremoniously on the floor. A collective gasp echoed across the dining hall.

Chai Latte Cookie froze. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie stared at the ruined pastry, his expression one of deep regret. “No,” he whispered. Earl Grey Cookie sighed. “This is a tragedy.” Chai Latte Cookie slowly turned to Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, expression unreadable.

“You fool,” she murmured. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay. Now, before you do anything-” She lunged.

You sighed, shaking your head. 

Shadow Milk looked your way “Are they always like this?” Earl Grey Cookie took a calm sip of tea. “It happens more often than it should.”

Shadow Milk Cookie ignored him  massaging his temples, clearly questioning every decision that had led him to this moment. You nudged him playfully. “See? This is what a real meal looks like. A little food, a little fighting, a little public humiliation.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at the commotion. “…This is why I take my meals alone.” You grinned. “Not today.” And with one last dramatic wail from Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie as Chai Latte Cookie rattled him by the collar, you led Shadow Milk Cookie forward straight into the madness.

The dining hall was alive, buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos, but something about it felt warmer like an extension of something familiar. Shadow Milk Cookie, despite his usual air of composure, looked somewhat out of place at first, standing among the whirlwind that was your friends.

But then, the small things settled in the way Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie patted his back in greeting like he was just another one of you, the way Earl Grey Cookie shifted slightly to make room at the table without a second thought, the way Chai Latte Cookie practically threw an extra pastry on his plate as if daring him not to eat it. It was seamless. 

Effortless. Like he belonged. For a moment, you glanced at him just to see if he felt it too. His expression was unreadable, but there was something softer in his posture, in the way his fingers rested lightly against the edge of the table rather than retreating into his sleeves. Then, of course, Chai Latte Cookie ruined the moment.

“So,” she drawled, elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is the lover’s quarrel over?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie choked on his drink. Earl Grey Cookie let out a tired sigh, already looking as if he wished to be anywhere else. 

Your entire body stiffened. Shadow Milk Cookie, to his credit, merely lifted an eyebrow, calm but unimpressed. You, however, absolutely did not have his composure.

“Chai” you hissed, eyes widening in horror.

“What?” She blinked at you innocently, as if she hadn’t just set fire to the table with her words. “I’m just checking in. You stormed off after him. Came back visibly shaken. Left again and now you return together? The narrative is narrating itself, babe.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, recovering from his near-death experience, grinned. “To be fair, she’s got a point.”

“She does not have a point,” you sputtered. “We-we weren’t even fighting-”

“Oh?” Chai Latte Cookie’s smile widened. “So, you were having a lovers’ moment then?” Shadow Milk Cookie exhaled deeply, reaching for his tea in a way that definitely suggested he was questioning his life choices. You, however, were floundering.

“That’s No That’s not-” 

You turned to Earl Grey Cookie, eyes pleading. “Say something.” Earl Grey Cookie, traitor that he was, simply took a slow sip of tea and said, “I think this is best left between you two.” 

Chai Latte Cookie beamed, satisfied. You groaned, dropping your head against the table. “I hate all of you.”

Shadow Milk Cookie, finally speaking, murmured with mild amusement, “I believe that is untrue.” You peeked up at him, only to find the faintest trace of a smirk at the corner of his lips. Your stomach flipped. Chai Latte Cookie wiggled her eyebrows. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded sagely. “Undeniable.” You let out the longest sigh of your life.

This was going to be a long lunch. You lifted your head just in time to see Chai Latte Cookie grinning like the embodiment of mischief itself, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie looking way too entertained, and Earl Grey Cookie sipping his tea with the kind of serene detachment that only came from thinking he was above this nonsense but still enjoying the spectacle. 

Shadow Milk Cookie, however, was the wild card. Because he was looking at you calm, measured but there was something in his gaze. Something knowing.

Something dangerous. “Well,” he mused, setting down his tea with an infuriating amount of elegance. “If we are to entertain the notion of a lover’s quarrel, one must consider the root of the conflict.” 

You froze. Chai Latte Cookie perked up. “Go on.”

“I have merely been waiting,” Shadow Milk Cookie continued smoothly, “for our dear scholar to provide an explanation. After all, there was a rather… passionate pursuit through the corridors earlier. And an equally passionate moment of hesitation.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie whistled. “Passionate, huh?” Your face burned. “That’s not what happened-”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Earl Grey Cookie finally chimed in, setting his cup down with practiced grace. “I seem to recall you gripping my hands rather fervently last night. Wouldn’t you say so?” Shadow milk cast him a glare.

You snapped toward him. “You are not helping!”

“I’m simply recounting the events as they happened,” Earl Grey Cookie replied, expression entirely neutral except for the slightest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. Chai Latte Cookie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest.

“Wait, wait, wait- so you were caught in a love triangle moment?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in. “Are you telling us we had front-row seats to some academic level romantic tension and nobody informed us?”

“There is no love triangle,” you said frantically, waving your hands in protest. “I just…Earl Grey Cookie is a good friend! I needed guidance! I-I-” You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, desperate. “Help me out here!”

But he simply tilted his head, expression unreadable. “…I fail to see the problem,” he murmured. You stared at him. “You fail to see the problem?” you repeated, betrayed.

“I fail to see how I have said anything untrue,” he replied smoothly. “After all, it is not I who reached for Earl Grey Cookie’s hands with such desperate longing”

“WHAT” You threw your arms up, half-ready to ascend into the astral plane out of sheer mortification. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

“Oh, I am,” Shadow Milk Cookie said, with the kind of smile that immediately set off alarms in your head. “Which is why I would never deny you your moment of reflection.”

“Oh my god” Chai Latte Cookie cackled. “Betrayal from within! I love it.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie wiped away a fake tear. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Earl Grey Cookie, traitor supreme, simply sipped his tea again, the very picture of composure. You buried your face in your hands.

“I hate all of you,” you groaned, muffled. Shadow Milk Cookie leaned in, voice as infuriatingly composed as ever. “Untrue,” he murmured, way too close to your ear. Your entire body betrayed you, heat crawling up your neck as you jerked upright and shoved your chair back.

“Absolutely not.”

Chai Latte Cookie gasped again, clutching Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s arm. “That! that was blushing. Tell me you saw that.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nodded rapidly. “Oh, absolutely saw that.”

“I don’t blush,” you lied through your teeth.

Earl Grey Cookie raised a brow. “Curious, then, that your face is rather warm-looking at the moment.” 

You pointed an accusatory finger at Shadow Milk Cookie. “You-you are supposed to be wise and dignified and not a menace” He blinked at you, completely unbothered. “And yet, I have never made such a claim.” 

You gaped at him. Chai Latte Cookie laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. Shadow Milk Cookie simply picked up his tea again, utterly victorious. And you swore to the gods that one day, somehow, you’d get back at him for this.

You let out a dramatic sigh, slumping back against your chair. “I thought your wrath was over,” you bemoaned, shooting a glance at Shadow Milk Cookie, who was taking an unhurried sip of his tea. 

“But clearly, you still have some lingering feelings.” He lowered his cup, tilting his head slightly, golden eyes watching you with something unreadable but undeniably intentional. “Lingering feelings?” he echoed, voice laced with an infuriating amount of amusement. “A fascinating observation.”

Chai Latte Cookie let out a quiet hmm of delight, already sensing where this was going. “Oh, I love when he gets like this.” 

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, who had been mid-bite into his pastry, nudged Chai Latte conspiratorially. “This is definitely payback.” You shot them both a glare before turning back to Shadow Milk Cookie, exasperated. “You can’t seriously still be upset.”

“I can and I am,” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with a deliberate clink. He turned his gaze to Earl Grey Cookie who, for once, was watching carefully, as if weighing the gravity of what was about to be said. “I would prefer if what I saw between you and my stargazer never happened again.”

The air around the table grew still. Earl Grey Cookie, ever composed, met his gaze levelly. “Duly noted.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Duly noted?!” you spluttered. “That’s it?” 

Earl Grey simply picked up his tea again, utterly unshaken. “Would you rather I start a debate?” Chai Latte Cookie’s eyes widened slightly before she turned her entire attention onto you, a slow, devious grin spreading across her face. “Hold on. Hold on. What did he just call you?”

Your brain stalled. “What?” you blinked.

“What. Did. He. Just. Call. You?” Chai Latte Cookie repeated, leaning forward with the intensity of someone thriving off gossip. You turned to Shadow Milk Cookie, only now realizing what exactly had left his lips.

“My Stargazer.” He repeated relishing in your humiliation. Your stomach dropped.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie whooped, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is fantastic.” Chai Latte Cookie smacked the table, eyes gleaming with glee. “This is the best thing to happen all week.” You, meanwhile, were reeling.

You held up a hand. “What does that even mean?” Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with a look so smugly composed that it made you want to combust. “I assume you are capable of deciphering meaning from context, Stargazer.”

You gaped. “You’re doing this on purpose.” His lips twitched at the edges, and that was when you knew. Oh, he was enjoying this. He was deliberately making a show of this. And worse? Everyone else was enjoying it too.

“See, this is why he’s terrifying,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed. “One moment, you think you’ve got control, and the next? He’s got you spinning in his little mind games.” 

Earl Grey Cookie, sipping his tea with the air of someone distantly entertained, merely hummed. “Impressive, really.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I hate it here.” Shadow Milk Cookie leaned just slightly toward you, voice low, calculated, teasing. “And yet,” he murmured, “you stay.” Your ears burned.

Chai Latte Cookie all but exploded into laughter, while Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie pounded the table in delight.Eventually, the laughter settled, the teasing ebbing into a comfortable hum of conversation. You exhaled, pressing your palms against your cheeks to dispel the lingering warmth of your embarrassment. Shadow Milk Cookie, still composed, still infuriatingly pleased with himself, had returned to sipping his tea as if nothing had happened at all. You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “So,” you said, forcing your voice into something normal. “The Spire.”

Chai Latte Cookie hummed, stretching her arms behind her head. “Finally switching to a serious topic?” she teased. 

You shot her a look before turning back to Shadow Milk Cookie. “What’s it going to be like? I mean, being the Fount of Knowledge.” His expression didn’t shift, but something flickered in his golden eyes, something thoughtful. He set his cup down, folding his hands neatly in front of him. “That remains to be seen.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie quirked a brow. “You don’t know?”

“There is no precedent,” Shadow Milk Cookie replied smoothly. “The Spire of Knowledge is newly established. It is an extension of the Academy, but unlike the traditional institutions, it will serve as a hub of research and discourse that reaches beyond these halls across lands, scholars, disciplines.” His fingers traced the rim of his cup absentmindedly. “A place where knowledge is meant to be ever-expanding. And with that, comes the responsibility of guiding it forward.”

Earl Grey Cookie studied him carefully. “That’s… a lot,” he said plainly. Shadow Milk Cookie nodded. “It is.” You leaned forward, resting your chin against your palm. “And the title? Fount of Knowledge…that’s permanent?”

“Presumably.”

You frowned. “That’s kind of a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Chai Latte Cookie chimed in. “Your name is going to be tied to an entire institution forever. No pressure.” Shadow Milk Cookie remained unbothered, but his pause was just long enough for you to notice.

“…Do you want that?” you asked softly. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “It is an honor,” he said after a moment.

“That’s not an answer.”

His gaze met yours, steady, unwavering. “Would you rather I embellish the truth?” You opened your mouth, then closed it. Fair point. 

Earl Grey Cookie took a measured sip of his tea before speaking. “Regardless of how you feel about it, you’re still becoming it. That means something.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie let out a quiet breath. “It does.” For a moment, the weight of it settled over the table. The reality of what was coming not just for him, but for all of you. The Spire was new, unknown, a place of possibility and uncertainty. You were entering it as students. 

He was stepping into it as something more. You tapped your fingers against the wood. “…Well,” you said, “at least you’ll have us there to pester you.”

Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “And that’s a promise.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie nudged you. “We’ll make sure you don’t get too pretentious with your big fancy title.” 

Shadow Milk Cookie arched a brow. “You assume I am not already pretentious.” 

Earl Grey Cookie smirked faintly. “A fair assumption.” Laughter bubbled at the table again, and for a moment, the weight of everything felt lighter. The future was uncertain, the Spire was uncharted, but at least, in this moment, you were all still together. The conversation ebbed and flowed around the table, shifting between teasing and genuine curiosity, but beneath it all, there was something unspoken.

Shadow Milk Cookie was here. He was sitting here, in a space that was so effortlessly filled with warmth and chaos, with inside jokes and knowing glances, with hands brushing over the last piece of bread as if it were a sacred prize. 

He was here and though he was composed, though he was himself, there was still a subtle distance in the way he carried his presence. Not an unwillingness to be here. No, he had chosen to be here. But a quiet awareness that he was not entirely part of it. 

And your friends knew that. They had always known that. And yet, they tried. Not because he was the Sage of Truth. Not because he held a title that would soon be carved into the foundation of the Spire itself. Not because he was important in the way scholars wrote about in books. But because he was important to you.

It was subtle, the way they met him halfway. Earl Grey Cookie addressed him with the same sharp wit he used on the rest of you, never deferential, never intimidated, just equal, as if daring him to rise to the occasion. Though with some hesitation. 

Chai Latte Cookie, who had no fear of the grand or the dramatic, leaned into their teasing, calling him things like our resident philosopher with an easy kind of humor, even when she watched him with an assessing gaze, as if still deciding how to place him within your orbit. 

And Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie? He was the most obvious nudging your arm, casting you knowing grins, making bold declarations about keeping Shadow Milk humble despite his grand title, never quite treating him as some untouchable figure. 

If anything, he was the most comfortable in pulling him into the ridiculous mess that was your world. And for all that Shadow Milk Cookie carried; the weight of his wisdom. For all that he was; a being of patience and intellect and elegance he was unprepared for this.

For them.

For you.

You could see it in the way he listened, his fingers curled lightly around the edge of his cup, his posture perfectly composed but his eyes thoughtful. He did not interrupt. He did not reject their attempts.

But you could tell he was not used to this. To the way friendship could be as simple as being handed the last piece of bread without asking. To the way people could tease you because they liked you, not because they sought to challenge you. 

To the way belonging was sometimes built not on shared knowledge, but on effort on the way your friends tried to include him, on the way they adjusted the shape of your group, not to fit him in, but to make room for him. For you, this had always been normal. For him this was new.

You studied him for a moment, watching the way he processed it all the small gestures, the familiar touches, the way Chai Latte bumped your shoulder as she spoke, the way Hazelnut Biscotti stole a sip from your cup like it was second nature. And then, without thinking, you reached for Shadow Milk’s hand beneath the table.

It was a simple thing.

A touch. A reassurance.

But it was also a bridge.

His fingers curled around yours after only a moment’s hesitation, as if testing the weight of fit then settling, anchoring. He did not look at you, but he did not need to. The conversation continued. Your friends laughed. The table felt full. And Shadow Milk Cookie, for all his distance, for all his unreadable nature stayed.

A/N as you all can see even when I was studying I was working on this diligently, this really was one of the few things keeping me sane this exam season...I was going to do a summer semester but I'm good without it...

Anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

<<<Previous Next>>>

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[solxamber]

hello hello! hope your well^^

For the mini holiday event,

[Octavinelle, 2, Comedy]

Is that OK? If your inbox is flooded w requests, feel free to skip mine, though!

it's completely fine! i'm having so much fun with this event so don't worry about it!

Kitchen Nightmare || Floyd Leech

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Comedy

You should’ve known better than to trust Floyd in a kitchen.

“Floyd, what are you doing?”

Floyd’s standing at the stove, humming an off-key tune with the most ominous grin you’ve ever seen. His sleeves are rolled up, there’s an entire octopus dangling from his hands, and the pot on the stove is bubbling ominously like a witch’s cauldron.

“Cookin’,” he chirps, completely unbothered. “What’s it look like, Shrimpy?”

“It looks like you’re summoning a sea monster.”

“Even better! We’re havin’ octopus stew!”

You freeze. “Floyd, Azul's an octo-mer”

“Yup! That’s why it’s extra funny.”

Before you can question that logic, the door creaks open, and in walks Azul. He takes one look at Floyd’s wild grin, the bubbling pot, and the suspiciously large octopus carcass being stuffed into it headfirst. The sound of Floyd’s cackling fills the room like background music to a horror movie.

Azul pauses mid-step. “...I’ll come back later.”

He turns and backs away so quickly, it’s like you just caught him fleeing a crime scene.

“Azul, wait! HELP ME!” you yell, but he’s already gone.

Floyd snorts, clearly pleased. “Heh, Boss is such a scaredy fish. S’not like it’s his cousin.”

You gape at him. “Is it your cousin?!”

“Nah,” he says cheerfully. “But wouldn’t that make it more exciting?”

“Floyd, that’s disturbing.”

He doesn’t answer, just stirs the pot like the unhinged chef he is, muttering things like, “Nice and tender~” and “This’ll be so good it’ll knock your fins off.”

Your survival instincts kick in. “You know what? I think I’ll stick to sandwiches.”

“Nuh-uh, Shrimpy!”

You don’t even have time to blink before Floyd’s behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other waving a spoonful of ominous-looking stew in front of your face like it’s some sort of prize.

“Come on, just one bite~”

“Floyd, I will scream.”

“Oh~ Then I’ll just make you louder.” He’s grinning way too much for your liking, and you’re pretty sure he’s not letting go until you try the stew.

“Fine! FINE!” You swat at the spoon, grabbing it from him with an overly dramatic sigh. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

He lets you go with a triumphant hum, leaning way too close as you hesitantly bring the spoon to your mouth. You close your eyes, fully prepared for disaster.

And then—

It’s… good.

You freeze mid-chew. Your brain can’t even process it properly. “Wait a minute.”

Floyd beams. “Told ya it’d knock your fins off!”

“Floyd, what the hell—this is actually delicious.”

“Right?!”

You stare at the stew like it’s personally betrayed you. “No. No way. There’s no reason it should taste this good when it looks like that.”

Floyd’s grinning so wide you’re worried his face might split in two. “Guess I’m just a natural-born chef, huh?”

You glance at him, then back at the spoon, and then back at him again, spiraling into some sort of crisis. “I don’t understand. This is unfair. I was ready to mock you for life.”

“Guess you’ll have to praise me instead,” Floyd sing-songs, rocking back and forth on his heels. “C’mon, admit it, Shrimpy! I’m amazin’!”

You sigh, dramatically collapsing against the counter. “I hate that you’re good at this. I’m so conflicted.”

Floyd cackles, shoving another spoonful toward you like a proud toddler. “Here, eat more! I made enough to feed, like, the whole ocean.”

“I’ll eat it, but I refuse to compliment you further,” you grumble, accepting the bite begrudgingly.

Floyd’s grin only widens as he watches you eat. “You’re so fun to mess with, Shrimpy~”

And for once, you can’t even argue with him.

Masterlist

[prozacwhorehouse]

paparazzi | mgg x SNL cast member gf

Summary: comments from the paparazzi instill doubt in you, but Matthew is there as a voice of reason

this was a request but it got deleted when I was making edits so I hope this finds its way to that lovely person !

—————————————————————————

pre and post show paparazzi outside the studio wasn’t uncommon. but when speculation that you and Matthew were dating blossomed, they got more incessant and difficult to ignore. it seemed as if they were always around, with the intention of spotting the two of you and documenting it. they were constantly nagging for answers and details about your relationship, most specifically mentioning the age gap.

the both of you knew it’d would be hard for some people to understand, but the idea that you were both legal consenting adults seemed more logical and would be accepted easier. originally, you had kept the relationship private - wanting the intimate moments to be kept to yourselves, only for yourselves. eventually the love becomes to great to hide, so you started dropping hints to the public. hints weren’t enough, there were always the small few who liked to dig a little deeper, push sensitive buttons - almost always internet trolls, or worse, in person paparazzi.

no matter what, they’ll always jab at the age gap. it’s always flashing cameras followed by comments, from “your relationship is inappropriate” “she’s young enough to be your daughter” and even, “is you dating an older man rooted in daddy issues?”

a video of the interaction goes viral and all the comments are offering support for the two of you:

they are both consenting adults. those who can’t accept that need to grow up and mind their own business.

these poor angels. the paparazzi is disgusting, ill never understand why it’s still a thing

they’re both grown leave them the fuck alone

daddy issues?? holy shit. the pap is getting so much worse.

two talented people reduced to their relationship. do better

you knew accepting a job on television came with its consequences, but you weren’t going to let people who get paid to be nosy stand in the way of your dream. so, with time you had learned how to handle paparazzi with ease. what was typically praise now being sprinkled with hate, it got harder and harder to ignore.

because the more someone says something about you, the more you start to believe it.

why is he with me? is this weird? am i wrong? is he wrong?

Whenever Matthew happened to be with you during these paparazzi incidents, he’d always guide you through the crowd by the small of your back or your hand. Weaving through people wordlessly, only whispering assurances into your ear, squeezing your hand to calm your heart beating in your ears.

—————————————————————————

The whole ride home to your apartment is silent. With Matthew, you two are always talking, always sharing thoughts, making the occasional silence reason for concern.

“Are you okay? You din’t say more than a word or two at a time not the way home,” he says while shutting the apartment door behind him.

“Are we, wrong?” you turn to gaze up at him through your lashes, the look on your face hurt.

“What do you mean, angel?” he croons, concern and confusion blossoming across his face.

“Like,” you pause and scoff, trying to find the words for your question. “Is what we’re doing wrong. Being together.”

“Do you not want to do it anymore? Cause we don’t have to-” his face turns to worry, your heart dropping at the thought of him thinking you’d say anything other than no. because no matter what anyone says, he’s so in love with you he can’t even imagine losing you.

“no! oh my gosh, no.” you’re quick to assure, holding his face in your hands. it’s just exhausting. why are they so concerned with our lives? can they not just-“

“you love me?” he interrupts, looking at you intently.

“what?” you scoff in disbelief, pulling back slightly. “of course I do - why?”

“because I love you. And that’s all that matters, yeah?” he brushes his thumb across your cheek, gazing into your eyes so lovingly. he always looks at you that way.

“It could be worse. They could be comparing me to Leonardo DiCaprio,” he smiles, causing the corners of your mouth to turn up, “and I’m definitely not DiCaprio level.”

“If you were, you would’ve dropped me when I turned 25,” you snicker and he sighs, throwing his head back.

“You’re funny, you know that?”

“I’d hope so. It’s kind of my job.”

—————————————————————————

mgg x SNL cast member taglist

@sarcasm-and-stiles @mystargirl-interlude @rubyirene @ashrrams @ghostatrixx @forevermorepassionate @saint-boudica @reidmarieprentiss @awakeforu @spencerlicious @kittycat-april @baudarling @delusional-4-fake-people @avenlymars @angelinajolie0213 @arusio @littleslayofhorrors @jezabelle9299 @jaemnationnn @princess-ofthe-pages @flow33didontsmoke

[22ayla21]

Imagine Amphoreus men who's very close to reader (and is secretly inlove hoho) but because of an incident that happen they thought they lost reader before they even had a chance to confess, but they suddenly came back, very much alive!

I was thinking about reader as part of kremnoan detachment to mydei's, then a childhood friend from aedes elysiae to phainon's and someone from the grove to anaxa (you can easily tell which incident i was talking about here hehe)

That's all thank you!

The Return of a Ghost from the Past

He thought he had lost her before he could even confess, but years later, he found her alive and well.

The rain poured as if the sky was weeping for those long taken by war. Mydei stood on the edge of Okhema, watching his people slowly settle into their new home. Kremnos was left behind—along with its bloody traditions and shadows of the past. But the shadows of the past never truly go away.

He pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding his face from the wind, and headed down the winding streets, where the scent of fresh wood and wet earth still lingered. Okhema was different—warm, full of life, unlike the harsh Kremnos. Here, no one feared each other, no one plotted for power.

And yet, even here, in a foreign land, his past found him.

Her voice echoed like a long-gone day.

"I never thought I'd meet you here, Mydei."

He froze. That voice. Clear, ringing, but imbued with the same weariness as his own. He slowly turned around.

She stood before him—as defiant as ever. The face he remembered in minute detail had changed slightly—sharper cheekbones, scars that weren't there before. But the eyes... Those same eyes that once looked at him with the confidence of a comrade, and then disappeared in the bloody chaos of war.

"...You're dead," he breathed, unable to find other words. She smirked, crossing her arms.

"As you can see, I'm not."

Years of training, iron self-control—all vanished in an instant. He stepped forward but froze, unsure if he had the right to touch her.

"I... I looked for you. I mourned you."

"And I survived," her voice softened. "I woke up among strangers, weak, with no memory. I returned to life—but not the one I had."

Mydei clenched his fists. He wanted to ask why she hadn't looked for him. Why she hadn't come. Why she left him in the dark. But he knew the answer. War left no room for farewells.

"I should have told you... back then," he looked up at her. "I loved you."

She froze, then smiled—softly, sadly.

"I know."

Mydei took a step closer, and this time she didn't pull away.

Anaxa always considered himself a man of logic, but even logic couldn't help him accept the loss. She disappeared the day the Dark Current engulfed everything. Many scholars were scattered, and he was left among the survivors, not even able to reach her. He thought he had lost her forever.

He never got to tell her.

Now, some time later, he and the remaining scholars lived in Okhema—a new home, a refuge after the fall of the Grove of Muses. The world was no longer the same, but they tried to live on as best they could. Anaxa immersed himself in research, allowing himself to believe that reason would conquer chaos.

But, as it turned out, fate had something more than cold acceptance in store for him.

He saw her by chance.

That day, he was walking through the market stalls of Okhema, lost in thought. And suddenly, his gaze caught a familiar silhouette. Hair, gait, even the habit of lightly touching her chin when she was thinking.

It's impossible.

But his body moved faster than his mind.

"…You…" The words caught in his throat. She turned around.

In that moment, his whole world seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened, and her face reflected shock.

"Anaxa?"

That voice. So alive, so real.

And he didn't think anymore. He didn't analyze, didn't look for a logical explanation. He just stepped forward and hugged her tightly, not giving her a second to disappear again.

She froze in his arms before returning the embrace.

"I thought you were…" she swallowed.

"And I thought I had lost you," his voice was hoarse, barely holding back too many emotions. "How? How did you survive?"

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes.

"It's a long story. I... I fell into a rift. I woke up far from where the Dark Current caught us. I was found and cared for... but there was no way back. Until I found my way to Okhema."

She spoke, but he barely heard the words. Because the only thing that mattered was that she was here. Alive.

He looked at her, and only one question spun in his head: should he tell her now? He had carried it inside for so many years, allowing time and loss to extinguish the fire that once burned in his chest. But now that fire burned brighter than ever. And he wasn't going to lose her again.

Phainon never forgot her.

Memories of childhood, of the village of Aedes Elysiae, where he grew up under the care of his grandparents, were warm but also filled with pain. Because on the day the Dark Current fell upon his home, he lost everything. He lost his family, he lost Cyrena... and he lost her.

She was his friend, the one he shared his dreams with, the one who laughed at his antics and supported him when he stumbled. He never got to tell her how he felt. He thought he had his whole life ahead of him, but fate decreed otherwise.

When he became The Chrysos Heir, his heart didn't let go of the pain of loss. He vowed to cleanse this world of the threat that took his home and loved ones. He saw darkness, burned it with the light of his will... but the past could not be returned.

And then, in Okhema, he saw her.

Amidst the human bustle, somewhere in the distance, for just a second, he noticed a familiar silhouette. Phainon stopped. His heart skipped a beat.

No... impossible...

He couldn't help but follow her. He pushed through the crowd, not caring about the path, ignoring those around him. His mind screamed that it was a mistake, that it was just a trick of his consciousness, which had been searching for her face among strangers for so many years.

But when he was close, when her eyes met his... the world froze.

"You..."

She had changed, matured, but her gaze was the same. She looked at him first with confusion, then her eyes widened in shock.

"Phainon?"

He couldn't speak. His throat was dry. It was unreal, impossible.

"But how... You... you're alive?"

She stepped towards him, and he, as if in a trance, reached out, afraid it was an illusion, that she would dissolve like all his dreams. But her fingers touched his, warm, real.

"I thought I had lost you..." his voice was hoarse, full of emotions he had been trying to suppress all these years. She shuddered, and her lips trembled into a smile.

"And I thought I had lost you..."

They stood there, amidst the noisy city, not hearing a single sound around them. Years had passed, but they still remembered each other. And perhaps now he would have a chance to say what he never got to say back then.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Critical Thinking

Critical Thinking - the ability to examine information rationally and make a reasoned judgment based on your analysis.

Critical thinkers refuse to accept subject matter at face value and are aware of their own cognitive biases, which allows them to approach objective conclusions.

Higher-order thinking skills like critical thinking enable you to learn actively, rather than passively absorbing information as it's presented to you.

How to Improve Your Critical Thinking Skills

The development of critical thinking skills takes time, but there are some particular ways to speed up the process. As a starting point, follow these steps for teaching critical thinking.

Pinpoint the issue. Whether it's a problem that needs solving or a question that needs an answer, begin the critical thinking process by identifying the issue at hand.

Collect information. Accumulate as much research and data on the issue as possible. Make sure to seek out sources that challenge your own beliefs.

Examine and scrutinize. Check that your sources of information are reliable, determine their biases, and ensure any opinions are backed up by hard evidence.

Decide what's relevant. Figure out which arguments are actually relevant to your issue, and flag the most consequential pieces of information.

Self-evaluate. Ask yourself, "Was I biased when seeking information?"

Draw conclusions. Decide on one or more possible conclusions. Evaluate the soundness of your conclusions and flag any flaws.

Explain your conclusions. Clearly communicate your conclusions to the relevant parties.

Examples of Critical Thinking Skills

There are many important elements involved in thinking critically. To become a better critical thinker, familiarize yourself with these key concepts.

Open-mindedness: Critical thinkers must work to have unbiased thought processes and remain open to more than one point of view. This openness to challenging information is a foundation for critical thinking.

Analysis: Analyze information to determine its reliability and to understand it well enough to draw further conclusions. This is one of the most important aspects of critical thinking.

Interpretation: Take time to interpret your analysis, synthesizing, and deciphering the meaning of relevant information.

Problem-solving: Once you analyze and interpret a problem, you can come up with one or more possible solutions.

Decision-making: By making a decisive decision, you come to a conclusion based on the data you have interpreted.

Effective communication: You must be able to convincingly explain your conclusions (and the thought process behind them) to others.

Self-improvement: Good critical thinkers develop positive habits of mind by reflecting on their own personal critical thinking process and looking for ways to improve it.

The greatest benefit of critical thinking is simply that it helps you make more informed decisions in your everyday life.

Strong critical thinking abilities are especially important in both secondary and higher education environments; critical reading and thinking skills allow high school and college students to engage in learning at the highest level.

Critical thinking is also an important skill in your professional life. Employers value workers who tackle problems logically and view situations from different perspectives in order to come up with the best solution. If you're in a job interview and can demonstrate to your potential employer that you have a proven track record of thinking critically, there’s a better chance you’ll get hired.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[sweetest-girl-in-the-universe]

This woman holds the highest recorded IQ ever: an astonishing 228. Far surpassing Einstein (160-190), Hawking (160), and Musk (155). Yet, despite her brilliance, she faced ridicule for her response to a seemingly simple problem.

But she saw what no one else could.

Here’s her story:

Marilyn Vos Savant was far from an ordinary child.

By the age of 10, she had:

• Memorized entire books

• Read all 24 volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica

• Achieved the highest recorded IQ of 228

She seemed destined for a life of genius.

But reality took a different turn.

“No one paid much attention to me—mostly because I was a girl. And I accepted that,” Marilyn Vos Savant once said.

She attended a regular public school, left Washington University after two years to help run her parents' business, and seemed destined for an ordinary life.

But in 1985, everything changed.

The Guinness Book of World Records listed her as having the "Highest IQ" ever recorded: 228.

Suddenly, Marilyn was thrust into the spotlight:

• Featured on the covers of New York Magazine and Parade Magazine

• Guest on Late Night with David Letterman

But she couldn’t have anticipated what lay ahead.

The Rise and the Question

Marilyn joined Parade Magazine to write the iconic "Ask Marilyn" column—a dream for someone with a passion for writing.

Yet, this dream turned into a nightmare with a single question in September 1990.

The Monty Hall Problem

Named after Monty Hall, the host of Let’s Make a Deal, the question went like this:

You’re on a game show.

There are 3 doors.

• 1 door hides a car.

• The other 2 hide goats.

You choose a door. The host opens another door, revealing a goat.

Should you switch doors?

Marilyn’s answer: “Yes, you should switch.”

The backlash was overwhelming. She received over 10,000 letters, including nearly 1,000 from PhDs, insisting she was wrong:

• “You are the goat!”

• “You blew it, and you blew it big!”

• “Maybe women look at math problems differently than men.”

But was she wrong?

The Math Behind the Answer

Consider the two possible scenarios:

You pick the car (1/3 chance):

• If you switch, you lose.

You pick a goat (2/3 chance):

• Monty reveals the other goat.

• If you switch, you win.

Switching gives you a 2/3 chance of winning.

Eventually, her answer was proven correct.

Vindication

MIT ran computer simulations confirming her logic.

MythBusters tested it and reached the same conclusion.

Some academics even apologized.

So why did so many fail to see the truth?

The Reasons People Got It Wrong

• They "reset" the scenario instead of recognizing the shifting probabilities.

• The simplicity of 3 doors obscured the underlying math.

• Many assumed each remaining door had a 50% chance.

Marilyn’s View

Marilyn blamed the compulsory schooling system for discouraging independent thinking. She argued that it:

• Creates passive learners

• Stifles exploration

• Hinders critical thinking

A Blessing and a Burden

Marilyn admits that her intellect often feels isolating—there’s no one to turn to when she needs answers.

Still, she sees her intelligence as a gift, not a curse .

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[englishisaboutconfidence]

Morso d'amore : Part 2 of Ahyeon knows best

Dating Ahyeon was great for a number of reasons, one being you had a smoking hot girlfriend and second your girlfriend already knew you better than anyone else. The first few weeks of dating didn't cause you to have to change your life really at all. You still had the same classes with her and sat next to her during all of them. You two kept working on projects together for classes, so it was an easy excuse for your friends as to why you were with her and why you were leaving the dorm. She already knew how much of a nerd you were so she wasn't too mad (emphasis on too mad) when you would ghost her while gaming or when you would spend hours grinding solo queue. Although she did force you to be on FaceTime with her as often as possible if you were going to be gaming for a few hours. Plus, you know, the whole thing that you were having a very active sex life with one of the IT girls of your school, who also happened to be your childhood crush. So, to summarize your current situation, you had an amazing hot girlfriend, and your friends and family had no clue… or so you thought.

Your sister Pharita and told Ahyeon that she was going to spend the weekend with your parents, so naturally Ahyeon had let you know immediately, and you ran over to their dorm the second Pharita left for your parents. You barely had time to text Ahyeon you were there before she pulled you in and started making out with you. Stumbling onto her bed, you two were too busy fighting for oral dominance that neither of you noticed the door open and someone entered the room. Finally asserting our dominance, you went to remove Ahyeon's shirt when you heard a loud "Yaaaah". Spoked by this, Ahyeon released a loud shriek before hiding herself behind you. Turning around, you see your sister Pharita with her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face.

"How long has this been going on? My best friend screwing my brother?"

Awkwardly rubbing the back of your head, you say "Uhhhh, like 3 weeks".

Unsatisfied with your answer, you feel Ahyeon gently elbow you in the stomach, "And its ummm dating. Yeah, we've been dating for 3 weeks."

Still waiting for the most important part, Ahyeon cleared her throat "And I love her and intend to marry her."

Finally satisfied, Ahyeon gives you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Really?" Pharita asked which you and Ahyeon responded with an affirmative nod.

"God, you two are terrible at hiding it then because I realized it the Sunday you two returned from "dog sitting" at our parents".

Surprised, you and Ahyeon questioned your sister "Huh! What do you mean you've known since then?"

"Please, you two were making googly eyes at each other while you Y/N dropped Ahyeon off at our dorm. Plus, you two forgot there was an eyehole in the door, so I saw your little goodbye kiss. Also, did you two dumbasses forget that I have both of your locations so I can see when you two disappear to Ahyeon's house to fuck, or our parents place, or a love hotel? And of course, the fact that you Y/N make any excuse to come over and you Ahyeon don't even try to hide how much you love lying all over him when we watch shows."

Annoyed that your little secret wasn't really a secret, you respond to your sister’s very logical statements with a very mature "yeah whatever."

Chuckling at your annoyance, Pharita continued "Ahyeon although I do wish you would have told me yourself that you finally got Y/N to confess."

"Sorry Rita, I was a little distracted since this dummy finally stopped ignoring his feelings and accepting that he's mine."

"It's okay Ahyeon, I'm just happy that we are going to finally be sisters in law sooner rather than later."

Confused by the entirety of the conversations, you interrupt the two dormmates and childhood friends "Wait, what are y'all talking about? Rita, you knew that Ahyeon liked me and that I somehow liked Ahyeon? And what do you mean sisters in law? We just started dating 3 weeks ago."

Amused by your confusion, Pharita just smiled and said "Oh please, both our families have known that you two were destined for each other for years. You forget, but you would not stop talking about and hanging around Ahyeon when y'all first met in the 1st grade. You think that Ahyeon's infatuation with yours started out of nowhere? Please, you would always gravitate towards her and eventually, I guess Ahyeon somehow started to like you despite how annoying you were. 'Ahyeon said this. Ahyeon did that. Ahyeon likes this instead'. Good lord you would not shut up about her. Although in middle school you stopped talking about her as much though it was clear that she still occupied your thoughts and feelings and started to try to suppress your feelings for her with annoyance; but that's when Ahyeon truly showed how much she cared for you. She started following you instead and talking to you and about you all the time, or maybe how central you were in her life was made more apparent when you tried to hide how much Ahyeon occupied your life."

Hearing the quick recount of your two’s history, Ahyeon just smiled and leaned forward into your back while capturing you in a back hug.

Still confused and even more so with how relaxed Ahyeon was, you turn to her "Why are you so relaxed? If you knew all of this, why didn't you tell me."

Still smiling at you, Ahyeon gave you a quick peck before saying "Because honey, you needed to come to that conclusion mostly on your own. Plus, I was never scared about losing you, even when you were 'pissed' at me, your adoration of me was easy to see through the pointed jabs and attempts at annoyance and indifference. I knew that you only had eyes for me and that my happiness and joy for life were essential to you, even when you didn't realize it. Do you remember when my grandma died?

You nodded.

"Well, it was a really shitty time especially the funeral, but honestly, it is one of my favorite days because it showed me what kind of person you are and how much I mean to you. Your family was of course coming to the funeral; but I remember Pharita telling me how much pressure you put on your family to show up not only on time (which is struggle especially for your dad); but an hour early to make sure that whatever my family and I needed, you could provide. Of course, you didn't yell at them like a drill sergeant; but you kept subtly reminding your mom and by extension your dad that my family would do the same and that it's probably really important and helpful to show up early and take care of us during such a tragic time. And then when you arrived at the funeral, I don't remember you ever leaving my sight. You didn't ever really come up and tell me you were there for me explicitly; but you kept hovering in case I needed something, I could tell that you had your eyes on me the entire time, and whenever I did ask for something, you pretty much sprinted and got it for me and made sure that you were the one taking care of me. And of course, you comforted me after the funeral when everyone had left, even our parents and Pharita and you just sat with me for hours. And when I went to leave, you softly grabbed my hand and tried to console me but instead started to ramble awkwardly which led me to smile for the only time that day."

"I don't remember your smiling; all I remember is my rambling and staring at our hands instead of you because I could barely look at you in the eyes because of how nervous I felt."

"Do you remember how I finally got you to shut up Y/N?"

Blushing, you nod your head.

"God you two are the worst. It's like watching a cheesy romcom; but I also love you two and wish you nothing but happiness; but can you let me know what the hell she has been since I wasn't there, and she never told me this story?" Pharita said exasperatedly.

Looking at her, you silently beg Ahyeon not to tell the whole story, but she just lovingly pats your check and continues on

"Okay Okay. Well, despite his truly terrible and inaudible rambling, I knew the gist of what Y/N was trying to say as well as where it came from, so I decided the best way to shut him up was to do something that would truly stun him, so I grabbed his face with my right hand and raised his face so our eyes met and kissed him right then and there, at the funeral home on the day of my grandmas funeral. Then while he was stunned and opening and closing his mouth like a fish, I told him the truth, that I loved him and wanted him to be my first and only for everything in my life. And this asshole just stared at me and right when I was about to turn and leave, heartbroken; he grabbed my hands and pulled me into a kiss and told me that he had no clue how or why, but that he knew that he loved me too and that something inside of him was telling him that I was the one for him. We then just stood there hugging for a while before he walked me home hand in hand. But of course, being Y/N, the next day he was back to his old self and kept acting like I was the bane of his existence when we both knew it was quite the opposite."

"Awwwww, that's so cute. Disgusting but cute. I didn't realize how in touch with your emotions you were Y/N." Your sister said.

"I'm not. I just can tell what my gut is telling me, and it told me that if I fucked that up then I would regret it for my entire life. So, I am not cute and that story doesn't need to be repeated".

"Okay sweetie" Ahyeon responded.

"I'm not!" You responded back like a child.

"Of course,"

"I'm telling you Ahyeon. That story is not sweet or cute and doesn't need to be mass spread."

Sighing softly, Ahyeon just said "Y/N honey, that story is going to be told at our wedding and probably plenty of times before that so you are just going to need to accept the fact that everyone is going to know you’re a big softie who is also absolutely whipped for your wife"

"Fine, but you were obsessed with me and that's how we got together so you're even more whipped, so ha."

"Of course," Ahyeon sweetly responded before shutting you up with a quick peck.

Smiling since she knew she had won, Ahyeon turned to your sister and asked, "So are you going to your guys' parents or was that just bait?"

"Oh, don't worry you two, I'm still going. Just needed to confirm my suspicions so now I can tell both families the great news. But don't worry, I'll make sure they don't do anything tonight or tomorrow; but be prepared for Sunday because they will summon you then."

"Wait, shouldn't we be the ones to tell them?" You quickly questioned your sister.

"It's fine Y/N. They deserve to know ASAP, plus let's be honest, if you had it your way, no one would know until after the wedding."

Knowing she was right and that this was probably the best way for the news to be revealed to the parents aka you would have a 2 days to prepare for the Spanish Inquisition as well as an overindulgent celebration of you getting your head out of your ass, you just nod and say "Fine, just make sure we get to eat steak on Sunday and no one bothers us till then"

Smirking, Pharita responded "Of course dear brother… although I will tell them that you are busy making them grandchildren" before running out the door laughing.

"Wait, Rita. Don't say that!" you yelled at her retreating figure before laying on Ahyeon's bed sighing and saying "God they are going to be so annoying on Sunday. At least we have 36hrs before then. So, what do you want to do Ahyeon?"

Turning to look at her, you are met with an annoyed and dumbfounded look. Once again confused, you say "What?"

"Your sister who we thought was going to be gone all weekend is finally gone. She is telling your parents we are making babies. You came over specifically because she was going to be gone and we haven't fucked in 2 days, so what do you think I want to do?"

Realizing that you were in a very advantageous position and that to fuck it up would be an absolutely moronic thing to do, you make the very tough choice of giving your girlfriend what she wants as well as making sure you do what you came over to do.

You quickly recapture the moment your sister so rudely interrupted and pin your girlfriend to the bed with your hands while you capture her lips with yours. Moaning into your kiss, Ahyeon frees her wrists from your control and guides you to take off your shirt while making sure not to separate her lips from yours. Knowing what she wants next, you flip the two of you over and quickly remove her shirt. Taking a moment to catch your breaths, you are happily surprised to see that Ahyeon had decided to forego a bra that night and your eyes were met with her perfect, perky tits adorned with the most beautiful areolas. Knowing your next move, Ahyeon quickly shoves you back onto the bed before you can capture her tits in your mouth and wiggles out of her pants before quickly discarding yours along with your underwear (she of course doesn't have to deal with panties of her own since she had also decided to go commando for tonight).

Giving you a quick little smirk, she grabbed your cock and quickly started stroking it to get it nice and prepped for her. After needing a couple of seconds to recover from the pleasure that she was giving you, you grab her by the waist and pull her close to you before capturing her right tits with your mouth and giving her left one equal attention with your hand before starting to switch between the two like a man eating for the first time in weeks. Feeling how hard you were and knowing how easy it was for you to become distracted from the objective when her tits were present, Ahyeon tears you off her chest before straddling you and sinking down until you were fully sheathed in her. Not letting you recover, she quickly started to ride you but not before once again capturing your lips with hers. After a few minutes of her strong riding, you feel your orgasm coming. Sensing this too, Ahyeon quickly locked her legs around you and made sure you were buried as deep as possible in her. Burying yourself as deep as possible, you let your orgasm take hold and you release spurt after spurt of cum into Ahyeon's waiting womb. The feeling of you filling led to Ahyeon finally reaching her peak. Once the last remnants of your shared orgasm subside, Ahyeon finally allows herself to let go and she falls onto your chest. Pulling up the covers which you two had cast to the side during your lovemaking, you make sure that Ahyeon is properly covered before sighing and saying "Fuck, I love you Ahyeon". Smiling softly, Ahyeon raised herself up to give you a soft kiss on your lips saying, "I love you too". Content, satiated, and utterly spent, the two of you finally fall asleep in a loving embrace with your legs intertwined and bodies connected in a way that showed true intimacy.

[ohgodthevoices]

hey swaggy author, i would absolutely LOVE if u did a tsukishima fluff + angst 🤭 smtg like the osamu timeskip one with the themes of childhood best friends and development of feelings once they're like older 🙂‍↕️🙏

omg i never wrote for tsukishima and im scared it'll be ooc but here we go ill try my best 😭

Tsukishima kei x reader

tags : fluff , a lil angst , he’s not good with feelings , childhood friends to lovers , gn!reader

you and tsukishima kei had been inseparable since chilhood. you were there when he got his first dinosaur book , sitting cross-legged beside him as he rambled about prehistoric eras with excitement only a kid could muster. he was there when you scaped your knee falling off your bike offering a "don't be dumb next time" as he handed you a band-ai

your friendship was nothing too loud , sitting next to each other on the bus , sharing earphones and bickered over song choices or staying up on call when one couldn't sleep and the other was studying.

but somewhere along the way, somwhere between your first and second year of highschool , something shifted.

it wasn't obvious at first , maybe it was the way his gaze lingered a second longer when you laughed, or how your heart stuttered when he absentmindedly fixed your scarf on a cold day. small, almost imperceptible moments stacking up, like a slow-building crescendo neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

when summer was finally here, your joy was quickly met by confusion when tsukishima started leaving you on read longer than usual, it was the way he stopped comming to your place to pick you up for your weekly saturday morning coffee date , the way you'd see him with yamaguchi after he told you he couldn't go out today, the way he stopped answering you calls when you wanted to give him a haul of what you bought.

you decides to brush it off , ever since the start of your first year , tsukishima has been getting closer to his new volleyball teammates , maybe he had decided to change friendgroups , maybe you weren't enough for him anymore...but then days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and it was already the first day of your second year in highschool

obviously you didn’t know the way he felt about you, that him distancing himself only equaled to his realization of his growing feelings for you. he couldn’t accept it, him liking loving someone ? and that someone had to be you ?? that just couldn’t be good. so the only logical solution to him was to disappear, maybe that way the way he was feeling would disappear too…

but tsukishima only found himself seeking you even more, he was seeking your presence , your unfunny jokes , your stupid smile that he just loved to see , he tried distracting himself with practice and hanging out with his teammates, he thought he’d get used to the feeling of something missing when you weren’t here. but boy was he wrong.

now that second year tsukishima stood in front of you in silence, his arrogance was quickly replaced by vulnerability as soon as he locked eyes with you, his best friend next to him quickly got the notice and left the two of you alone in the school’s empty hallway , he suddenly didn’t assume all those unanswered calls and texts , tsukishima opened and closed his mouth as if looking for the right words “i know i acted like an idiot.” he was gonna put his pride to the side for this, for you.

he told you everything— from the reason to why he ghosted you to how he realized he liked you, and you didn’t say a word until he finished , you had known him for so long yet this was the first time you saw tsukishima nervous, actually expressing how he feels. when he was done , he looked at you with an intense gaze waiting for an answer , anything— but you laughed, not because you were going to reject him but because he looked so out of it. of course he got pretty mad at your reaction but you didn’t reject him.

tsukishima preferred to keep your relationship on the low, he didn’t want it to be private, he wanted people to know you were off limits, but he hates showing off. but that changed over time, he was glad you continued to grow up together.

tsukishima thought it was endearing that the person he played hot wheels with was actually driving a car now, that he went from eating pretend food you made in your play kitchen to actually coming back to you and savoring the nice warm meal you made him.

both your families were over joyed when tsukishima finally agreed to let them know you had been dating for 3 (almost 4) years , your families were already pretty close thanks to your mothers being best friends but now they were even closer, holidays were spent together and dinners that were actually enjoyable were hosted more often.

he’s the type of boyfriend to be very attentive, very teasing, his teasing isn’t as mean as it was back in highshool, but he liked how affective it was on you. he’d tease when you mess up a word and kiss you if you got annoyed. tsukishima’s way of showing his love for you is act of service omg he just does everything for you and if you dare tell him “i could do it myself yk” he will hit you.

he still has the stupid little playlist you made him back in your first year of high school that he listens to when he gets nostalgic or when you argue.

a/n : HEY I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭🙏 i’m catching up on all the requests istg

[chilling-seavey]

She Never Did (gr63)

↳ A/N I just had to post more sub!George because...well...have you seen this man? Who wouldn't want to give him what he deserves and peg him until he's crying with pleasure <3

↳ Summary: George is only missing one thing in his relationship. That one thing is what only you can give to him.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 19.2k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, adultery, George has an unnamed girlfriend and there is a lot of negative talk about their sex life throughout, fem!dom and sub!George, pegging, use of toys (anal beads, cockring, prostate vibrator, strap), oral sex (m and f receiving), sucking off a dildo and forced deepthroating, rimming, degradation (names like 'slut', 'whore', 'pathetic' etc.), brief mommy kink (only used once or twice), lots of lube, watching in a mirror, using cum as lube, minor CBT (cock and ball torture), (mis)use of a safeword, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, begging, choking, restraining with hands, spanking, slapping, hair pulling, finger sucking, nipple play, overstimulation, unprotected sex, aftercare, angst.

Are you busy? Can I come over?

It was always how it started, those two questions lighting up your phone screen, and they often appeared coincidentally right when you were thinking about him. That wasn’t odd, however, as there weren’t many minutes in the day where you weren’t thinking about him.

You lifted your phone from your desk to reply to George’s text message without need for any second thought, accepting him over and his promise to be there within the hour.

You knew why he wanted to come over—it was really the only reason he had since he was usually preoccupied with his girlfriend or traveling all around the world for races—but his dirty little secret was safe with you. It was thrilling, in a sense, to go behind everyone's backs like that but you were too head over heels for George to think logically and he was too unfulfilled in his relationship—in a way that was a bit too taboo to admit to others—to think of stopping what had already been started. You both kept quiet, he got what he wanted, and you got that shot of dopamine from giving him exactly that. You would kill to please him and when he turned to you as the only person to do so successfully? Who were you to deny him that?

In preparation for his impending arrival, you tidied up your apartment just enough to look presentable: putting away the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher and tidying up your desk that was scattered with papers and work, finally finishing with a re-making of your bed and a dusting to your surfaces. He certainly wasn’t coming over to analyze the cleanliness of your apartment but a small sliver of you wanted to aim to impress him; even if he was clueless to it. 

No more than thirty minutes later, your phone rang and you didn’t even have to look at the ID to know it was the buzzer from the lobby. When you answered it, George’s muffled voice through the cheaply made building speaker system crackled through, 

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Come on up.” 

You unlocked the lobby door from your keypad to let him in. 

It only took him a minute to take the elevator up to your floor and soon he was knocking at your suite door. You had almost been waiting in your foyer for him so his hand had barely dropped from the knock by the time you yanked open the door to reveal him on the other side. He was wearing black jeans and his favourite brown boots under a lined jacket with the hood pulled up over his head as if keeping a lazy disguise for the trek between the parking garage and your front door. 

“Hey.” you tried not to grin too widely as you stepped aside, “Come on in.”

It was a familiar occurrence to George so he was perfectly comfortable coming in and taking off his shoes at the door: a habit that you insisted he take up when visiting you. A few times, his girlfriend had pointed out him taking off his shoes when entering his own home—a prime example of how often he was coming to see you—and he had to pass it off with some blasé excuse each time. 

You took his jacket from him to hang it up in the front closet, leaving him in only a linen shirt tucked into his jeans as he took a few casual paces farther into your apartment as you did so. His eyes lingered on your crowded yet organized desk, littered with your notebooks and dual monitors under a large wall calendar scribed with important dates, meetings, deadlines, and friend’s birthdays. His eyes lingered on February 14th labeled ‘Singles Day’ in pink ink in your gentle penmanship, right beside February 15th labeled ‘George’s Birthday’.

“Do you want a drink or anything?”

Your voice startled him out of his slight distractedness and he glanced back at you as if half forgetting you were there, answering smoothly, “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

He helped himself to the living room of your small apartment as you opened the fridge to serve yourself and your guest and he sat himself on the small two-seater couch. Space was limited so it was the best you could have. George leaned back and watched you silently as you set two glasses on the kitchen island and started each with a single shot of peach liqueur and then filled them the rest of the way with orange juice. His leg bounced restlessly, socked foot tapping dully against the wood floor. 

The silence wasn’t unusual as you got settled into your odd routine but it wasn’t uncomfortable, just full of an indescribable tension that had your heart racing in your chest. You took the drinks to the living room only a few short steps away and George reached to take one glass from you with whispered thanks. You sat beside him on the modest couch. 

“So,” you started, both of you pausing to take a sip of your drinks before you continued, “What were you up to today?”

It always started this way. The casual catch-up and discussion before the action. 

George sighed as he stared into his glass, lips pursed in brief though before he shared like it was a casual recounting of the morning news, “Not much. I woke up with a boner…didn’t bother telling her though because, you know, what’s the point. Ended up having a wank in the shower. Then she left to get her nails done and I tried to work but I was just staring at my laptop so…thought I’d message you.”

“So she’s gone for the day?”

“Mhm.” George said through his next drink before swallowing and then answering, “Getting her nails done or something and then going shopping, I guess. I just texted her saying I was going for a hike.”

“Shopping.” you repeated with a dull nod before countering, “Nothing of sustenance?” 

George shot you a half-amused side eyed glance, “Sustenance like what?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged innocently, “A job?”

“Not everyone can have two jobs, a degree, a second degree in progress, and multiple promising hobbies on the go at once.” George teased. 

“Hey,” you tisked, “why not? Gives a woman purpose in life. But, I guess shopping is fun too.”

You both shared little smiles through your next sips of your mixed drinks. 

You pried a little more, “How’s it been going with her?” 

George shrugged, “It’s going fine.”

You waited to let him continue at his own pace. 

He took another drink before relaxing back on the couch again, his body angled towards you habitually, “You know how it’s going. It’s the usual: really nice generally but kinda boring in bed.”

“Mhm.” you encouraged him on, leaning forward to set your glass on a coaster on the coffee table so you could give him your full attention. 

“I’ve been putting in more hours on the sim this last week or so…flying out to Brackley more often to visit the factory. She brought it up to me that I’ve been distancing myself from her and I didn’t realize it at first but maybe that’s true.”

You ignored the ache in your chest over the discussion of his girlfriend and their sex life, “Why’s that?”

George’s finger traced the rim of his glass and he sucked on his teeth for a second, trying to hide his bashful little smile over his confession, “Because she won’t give me what I want. And I’m tired of doing all the work all the time.”

“She’s really stupid for that.” you replied, earning his eyes to raise to look at you as you explained, “Why wouldn’t she want to pleasure you the way you want? That’s selfish, in my opinion.”

“She can’t help that she’s not into it. I’m not going to make her do something she’s uncomfortable with.”

You kept your mouth shut, knowing that you’d say something a little too hostile if you didn’t. George sensed this and he sat up again and set his half empty glass on the table beside yours. 

“I’m just lucky I have you then.” he gave your arm a little nudge. 

You smiled softly at him and set your hand on his knee, “Me too.”

“I’m really, really lucky.” he continued softly. 

His eyes weren’t discreet as his gaze dropped to your lips and he licked his own. Your hand rubbed gently over his thigh.

“And work?” you pressed. 

“Fine.” he answered, unmoving, “Car’s good. I’ve been consistent this year…feels great.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…feels good.” he breathed. 

“Mhm?” you gave his thigh a squeeze and he inhaled sharply. 

There was a pause, taken up by both of you just staring at each other side by side, bodies turned towards each other naturally and gazes drifting between lips and eyes. Who was going to make the first move?

“Did you wash up?” you asked lowly. 

“Yeah,” George licked his lips, “Took a detailed shower right before I came over.”

“Good boy.”

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, smothering a smile. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked, sliding your hand along the inner seam of his jeans and your thumb caressed his thigh. 

“Whatever you want.” George answered.

“That’s pretty broad.” you stated. “You have nothing specific in mind that you want?”

He shook his head, his body habitually starting to lean towards you. 

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do? Or just do it?” 

He sounded dazed, as if he was already starting to fall into that perfect little headspace without you even properly touching him, “Whatever you want.”

You set your other hand against his chest to keep him from leaning too close, your faces almost centimeters apart. He licked his lips again and then bit his bottom one as he focused on your face, his hand resting on the seat of the couch behind you with how close he was. 

“Whatever I want?” you repeated, giving his thigh a squeeze.

“Mhm.” he answered with a gentle nod, “You know how I like it.”

“I do,” you agreed as you rubbed his thigh right up tauntingly close to his crotch, “and you remember our safe word?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he replied easily.

“Good boy.” you whispered. 

You eased your hand away from his chest, allowing him to lean in towards you and he did so happily until you set your finger against his lips, preventing him from kissing you. He stared into your eyes. You could smell his woodsy cologne on him with how close he sat and you tried not to make it too obvious with how you breathed him in. Your finger dragged down his lips, tugging at the bottom one gently before watching it fall back into place, and your hand on his thigh wrapped around the waistband of his jeans. 

You taunted him with a whisper right to his lips, “Wanna come to my room so I can treat you like the perfect little slutty boy you are?”

“Yes, please.” he breathed. 

You linked your finger in one of his belt loops and tugged him up from the couch and pulled him after you towards your room, half-empty drinks forgotten on the coffee table. George followed after you eagerly despite the way you led him across the hardwood floor and into your bedroom by the hem of his jeans and once you entered, you left the door wide open behind you. You were all alone after all, encapsulated by the thrilling privacy. 

When you turned to face him again, George tried to lean in to kiss you but you grabbed him by his arms and turned him around to shove him backwards onto the end of your bed. He landed on his back with a small gasp, staring up at you with wide blue eyes as you stood at the foot of the bed proudly. You untucked his linen shirt from his jeans with eager fists and he helped you to unbutton it so you could toss it aimlessly towards the pillows. His body was so perfect to you and your eyes glided over his bare torso as he rested on his elbows for you, your hands dancing down his pecs and over the arches and valleys of his muscle. 

“God, just look at you. You’re so sexy.” you said, hints of longing teasing your voice. 

“Thank you.” George replied angelically with a faint smile at his lips. 

Your hands unbuckled his belt and he stared down his body to watch as you pulled the leather strap out of the metal buckle, his bottom lip between his teeth. When your slender fingers popped the button on his jeans and tugged down the little zipper, George’s mouth fell open slightly in anticipation, flicking his eyes between your face and your hands as you worked to undress him. He lifted his legs up to let you pull his jeans and his underwear down in one smooth motion, dropping them to the ground, stripping him absolutely bare on the end of your queen size bed. He stared at you patiently.

The black silicone ring that was wrapped around the base of his cock drew your attention right away as it stood out against his fair skin and nestled against the trimmed hair that grew there. He was already hard and you wondered how he managed to hide it so well in his jeans the whole way up to your apartment and as you shared drinks in your living room. He certainly wasn’t small. 

“Oh my God, angel,” you exhaled, easily falling into your role that he expected of you, “you already put the cockring on yourself?”

“Yeah.” he licked away his cocky grin, “Couldn’t wait. Knew you’d want it on anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good boy,” you reached down to gently stroke his dick with the tips of your fingers.

He hummed faintly at your touch, his hips trying to push up towards your hand and he groaned at the flexing motion. 

Your palms drifted up his abs as you spoke to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Coming all the way over here with that big, heavy dick of yours in that little ring…bet you’re just fucking aching for someone to touch you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” George answered, “Been wanting it all day…been wanting you to touch me all day.”

You pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him flat against the bed, leaving his legs hanging off the end, and you climbed on top of him to straddle his lap. George licked his lips as he stared up at you still fully clothed over top of him and his hands gravitated to your waist while yours caressed his chest and his abs. 

“What were you thinking of when you jerked off in the shower this morning?” you asked.

“You,” he answered, “fucking me.”

“Mhm?” you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the sheets on either side of his head so you were leaning right over him, “Letting me have my way with you?”

“Yes, miss.” he breathed, eyes locked on your lips. 

“Just fucking every single little stupid thought from your pretty little head?”

“Yeah.” George whimpered faintly, “Please, can you?”

“Are you gonna do everything I say like a good little toy?”

“Yes, miss.” he nodded almost eagerly and you could nearly see his pupils dilating from lust in those blue eyes of his. 

He just looked so sweet underneath you like that, with your hands pinning him down and how he stayed just like that so obediently, that you couldn’t help yourself but lean down to dust a faint kiss over his lips. George flinched in pleasant surprise and just as he went to kiss you back, you pulled away. 

“No-” he squeaked. 

You got off of him, “I want you on your stomach.”

George offered no complaints despite his unfulfilled kiss as he shifted on your bed and adjusted himself to lay face down in the middle, resting his arms under his head as he let his gaze follow you while you undressed to your bra and matching panties. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip patiently with a little grind against your bed as you got yourself situated and knelt up onto the bed beside him. 

What you hadn’t noticed initially was the black silicone shape nestled between his ass cheeks, now on display to you with him on his stomach. Your eyebrows raised and you reached out to gently press your middle finger against the flared base, earning a sharp inhale from the man beneath you. 

“Oh, my good boy, you got yourself so prepped and ready for me today.” you complimented, “You must have really wanted it.”

“Yes, miss.” George exhaled, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow shyly as he kept his eyes peeking over his bicep to where you stood at the bedside. 

“My little slut saving me so much time.” Your fingers rubbed gently over the flat narrow elongated base of the toy between his plush cheeks, “It’s so fucking hot thinking of you alone in your bathroom fingering your asshole to get this little toy to fit in there.”

“It was really tight.” George confessed.

“Bet it felt so good.” you said. 

“Mhm.” George answered into his elbow, “Was grinding on the seat of my car the whole way here too. Felt so fucking good.”

You tossed a leg over his thighs so you were straddling him and your hands rubbed lightly over the curve of his ass, one cheek under each hand. George took a shuttering breath. 

“And how does it feel now?” you pressed. 

“Good.” he mumbled, “I feel full.” 

“Just how you like it, right?”

“Mhm.” he shifted against the mattress a little, “Not as good as your dick though.” 

“Good boy.” you chuckled, gently smacking one palm down against his ass. 

He flinched and groaned tightly. 

“Want a little spanking, angel?” you asked. 

“Yeah…please.” George exhaled. 

You hit him gently with your other hand before soothing the spot with a little rub and then repeating that action on the other side, forcing a tight gasp from his mouth. You could see how he clenched around the toy in his ass with every light spank, urging you to do it again. But then you were just dragging your fingers over the curve of his ass and down the backs of his thighs, before giving him a few light smacks up his inner thighs and he groaned prettily into his arm.

“That’s my good boy.” you cooed, sliding your hands up his spine ever so faintly, raising shivers in your wake back down his golden skin. The few freckles that dotted his skin were familiar to you now and part of you wished your relationship was one that would permit you to kiss each one so lovingly. Instead, you pushed your innermost feelings aside with another spank to his ass. 

“Mm.” George grunted softly at the impact, his body flinching. 

When you pulled your hands away, he rutted faintly against the bed, his face still tucked in the crook of his arm on top of your pillows. 

“Needy little slut.” you tisked, giving him another little swat to his soft ass. 

“Please, miss.” he breathed. 

“Speak up, angel.” you said, “Use that pretty voice of yours.” 

George lifted his head from his arm to word his plea over his shoulder to you, “Please can you touch me, miss?”

With persistent grips, you groped his ass in your palms to pull a moan from his chest. 

“Yeah.” he groaned into his arm as the strong persistence of your hands had the toy inside him shifting. 

“Good boy.” you breathed, massaging his ass like dough in your warm palms. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Your hands drifted up his spine and you gave his shoulders a little rub before dragging down his back again, rubbing and caressing his toned muscles tenderly. George gave you appreciative little hums as he fell into easy relaxation under your hands and his eyes struggled to stay open with how good it felt for you to rub him down. His body was art to you and you always liked to take a moment to let yourself admire every inch of it before really getting down to the reason why he showed up…besides, he would never complain about a massage. 

You couldn’t help yourself but lean down so you were laying right on top of him, pressing your hips against his ass to push that toy deeper inside him and he groaned tightly, and your lips found his neck in a gentle kiss. George’s shoulder raised up slightly at the shiver your faint kiss rose over his skin and his sharp inhale had you trailing more right up under his ear while your hips ground down against his ass faintly. 

“Oh my God.” he groaned into the crook of his arm, his eyes closed gently. 

“That’s my good boy.” you praised against the shell of his ear and gave it a little nibble just to earn a soft whine out of him. Then you were moving back down his neck and sucking a hickey into his shoulder. 

“No marks.” he reminded you breathily, “She’s gonna see.”

You pulled away from him with a small string of spit connecting your lips to his shoulder, staring down at the faint blushing love bite you left behind, and you rubbed the heels of your palms into his shoulder blades, counting his gentle protest, “I didn’t hear a safe word, angel.”

He didn’t have a chance to reply as you nudged your hips against his doughy ass in a mock thrust, just to make him really feel that toy inside him, and your nails dragged down his back just hard enough to leave ten straight lines blushing red against his caramel skin. George moaned tightly and you leaned back down to kiss his neck again. 

“Turn over,” you whispered against his ear, “I want to look at you properly.”

You sat back from him so he could shift himself over ungracefully onto his back and you left yourself straddling his thighs, sitting yourself down on them once he got situated. His naked body was laid out for you angelically—like a marble statue—and you rubbed your hands up his abs and his chest and then over his broad shoulders, giving them a warm squeeze. George blinked up at you with his bottom lip between his teeth, his arms draped on either side of his head against your pillow, entirely trusting of you, and all you could think about was how your pillow was going to smell like him that night. What a treat. 

“Gorgeous man.” you breathed. 

Your hands slid back down his chest and you pinched his nipples between thumb and forefinger, giving them a little twist. George’s little shuddering breath had you smirking proudly down at him, trailing your fingers daintily down his abs to feel the hard muscle under your fingertips and the precise expression of man that was laid out before you, all for you to touch and worship. 

His dick was insanely hard and standing up in the cool air of your bedroom with the ring wrapped snugly around the base to hold it there. You stared at it for a second, feeling the way it made your insides coil with arousal. You craved it inside you so intensely but it was a feeling you had never been blessed with and part of you assumed that maybe you never will. Pushing aside those melancholy thoughts, you faintly slid your fingertip along the leaking slit in the head of his cock, smirking at how his dick twitched under your feather-soft touch. His tense little hum had you doing it again before suddenly giving a gentle flick to the underside of the tip. 

“Oh-” George squeaked, his whole body flinching at that. 

Not giving into the touch he so desperately needed from you, you moved your legs from the outside of his to kneel yourself between his two, ordering him sweetly, “Hold your legs back for me, angel.” 

George reached down to grab his thighs and he pulled his legs back towards his chest for you, giving you room to stare at his thick cock between his thighs. Your hands rested on the undersides of his knees and pushed them farther apart. 

“Wider, handsome.” you cooed, “Hold them open by your ankles.”

When he obeyed you and kept a snug grip around each of his ankles to really hold his legs open wide, he looked filthy and so submissive like that, just waiting for you to do whatever you wanted to him. He was so spread and nearly bent in half that you had a clear view of his dick, his balls, and right down to his asshole that still held that matte black toy nestled inside it. 

“Good boy.” you praised and, with a gentle knuckle, you caressed his perineum. 

“Oh, please, miss.” George whimpered, his head falling back against the pillow beneath him, “Please touch me, I’m so fucking horny.” 

You didn’t offer him another word before you were leaning down and dropping out your tongue to lick right up the underside of his cock. The hitch of his breath had you smothering your smile behind another slow lick, dragging your full tongue right up the impressive length of his erection until you could taste the hints of salty precum that leaked from the tip onto your tastebuds. 

“Fuck.” George exhaled, staring down his body at you between his spread legs while your tongue caressed the underside of the tip of his cock, rubbing against the most sensitive spots that had his chest rising and falling heavily. 

With your hands resting daintily on his abs, you shifted onto your stomach so you could reach him easier and you pressed a sloppy wet kiss to the head of his cock. It twitched against your lips and you licked at it tauntingly, staring right back into his wide blue eyes up his vast expanse of abs and chest underneath you. You were always cruel with your teasing and he knew this well, but he also knew that the more you teased, the more you would reward him generously for taking it. So he didn’t argue. 

“Such a pretty dick.” you whispered right up against it with your lips brushing the soft skin of the head. You gave it another kiss. “Pretty dick on a pretty boy.” 

George licked his lips. 

You gave the head of his cock a little teasing suck before sitting back on your knees again and he literally whined at the loss of your fleeting contact. He stayed right where you had positioned him even as you leaned over his body to tug open your night table drawer and pull out a bottle of lube. His eyes nearly shone at the sight of it in your hand and the pop of the cap had him licking his lips excitedly and adjusting his hold on his ankles. 

You squirted a generous amount of lube onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the sides filthily and right to the black silicone ring around the base. Then your hand was wrapping around it and smearing the lube back up the shaft of his cock, just gently enough to pull a shuddering breath from George’s chest. He lolled his head to the side as he watched you but his gaze caught in the mirrored closet doors just to the right of your bed and he gazed into the reflection. Seeing himself spread so salaciously on your bed had his cheeks turning pink but he couldn’t stop staring at it all the same - especially as he had a clear view of you knelt on the end of the bed with your slippery hand wrapped around his aching cock.

“Good boy.” you whispered, stroking him in gentle pumps of your hand until the room was filled with the wet squelch of lube. 

“Ohh God.” George moaned shakily. 

You let your other hand join your right, wrapping your fingers and thumb around the ring that held strong at the base of his dick and you kept him still as your right hand pulled twisting strokes. 

“You have such a big dick.” you breathed, “Can’t even get my fingers all the way around it.” 

“It’s yours.” he whispered, staring intently at the reflection in the full length mirror to his right. 

“Yeah, you belong to me, don’t you, baby boy?” 

“Yeah.” he exhaled. 

You gave his dick a little snug squeeze around the tip to have him gasping lightly as you ordered, “Look at me.”

George tore his eyes away from the mirror to meet your gaze and just as he did, you sped up your hand around his cock in quick flicks of your wrist. His nose scrunched up slightly as you gave him the attention he craved and he sunk his teeth back into his bottom lip with a soft chuckle laced so prettily with a whimper.

“You like looking at yourself, huh?” you taunted. 

George just hummed tightly, staring down at your hand tending to his aching cock with both hands, one perfectly still as the other jerked him off rapidly until his toes were curling in the air where he was holding them. Then you stopped suddenly and his head tossed back with a little grunt, only having to linger in that unpleasant ache for a few seconds before you slowly started stroking his dick with both hands in opposite twisting pumps. 

“Ohh fuck.” he whined and he met his reflection again easily, staring at himself and his expression’s natural waver. 

“You really like looking at yourself.” you reiterated, “Looking at what a perfect, beautiful little slut you are?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George groaned. 

“Yeah, you can’t even look at me when I ask you to…you just gotta stare at yourself in that mirror, huh?” you pressed. 

George turned his head back towards you, “Sorry.”

“Watching me stroke your dick is too much for you, angel?”

George exhaled, “Yeah.” 

“Mhm?” 

Your right hand was focused on the top half of his dick and with his response, you gave him quick little pumps right around the tip that had his head arching back against the pillow with a moan. 

“Oh, baby-” he withered. 

“Good boy.” you praised lustfully. 

The slick sound of your lube streaked hand tending to his cock filled your quaint bedroom and George stared down at it with his mouth agape. He gave you the sweetest sounds that made you wonder how anyone could deny him all the pleasure in the world, just how he wanted it. Just the sounds of him had you wanting to give it all up for him, giving him anything, so long as he kept moaning for you. It was what you thought of and imagined on those lonely nights after he went home to his girlfriend and you were left to touch yourself to the mere memory of him and the scent of his sweat and cologne that lingered on your pillow.

His cock throbbed in your hand under your impressive flicks of your wrist and once his nose started to scrunch up with pleasure, you stopped and pulled your hands right off of him. George inhaled sharply as his head fell backwards again and he groaned lowly to the ceiling at your edging.

“Fuck, I wanna cum so bad.” he spoke shakily. 

“Did you not cum this morning?” you asked, trailing your finger down the shaft of his dick, “In the shower?”

“Yeah, but…” he sniffled, “Barely.”

You cracked a small smile, cooing down to him lustfully, “My poor baby boy.”

George hummed in faint appreciation for your acknowledgment of his treacherous struggle and as both of your hands gently cupped his balls, his hum molded into a soft moan. 

“Poor little angel just wants to cum.” you tisked, massaging him in your hands snugly, “These heavy balls just need some relief, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” George exhaled, readjusting his grip on his ankles as he still held himself spread for you.

“Mhm.” you leaned down and wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock for a little suckle, hollowing your cheeks to make him feel the warm wet confines of your mouth that was only for him to be blessed with. 

“God.” he groaned through his teeth. 

You pulled off him again with a pop and his ample cock fell up against his abdomen, glistening in lube in the light from your open curtains. Without any tissues nearby, you reached for his linen shirt that was laying tossed over your opposite pillow from moments earlier when you stripped him in a rush, and you used that to wipe the lube off your hands. As you did so, you instructed him gently, “Hands and knees now, please, handsome.”

George dropped his legs with a half-relieved sigh and he turned over onto his hands and knees as expected of him, facing your headboard. Dropping the shirt to the side again, you rubbed your soft hands over the curve of his ass and leaned down to kiss one cheek before punctuating the soft act with a hard spank. He grunted tightly at the impact. 

“We’re gonna take this toy out of you now, okay?” you warning. 

“Okay.” George exhaled. 

You grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted another pump right between his cheeks and you watched as the clear liquid trickled down to his asshole and spread itself around the body of the toy that was nestled inside him. With a careful hand, you slid two fingers under each side of the flared base like you were handling a corkscrew and you gave it a gentle twist just to smear that lube around a little more. George’s tight inhale had you caressing his thigh with your other hand and you held him gently as you started to pull at the toy. 

You could see how his muscles stretched around it as the body of the toy was slowly eased out of him and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to keep focused on your cautious move. George’s mouth was hanging open as he stared over into the mirror again to watch, letting out a tight groan as the modest size sphere was pulled from his ass. You had anticipated that it would be done and he had just tucked a cheeky little buttplug up there before coming over, but even when you pulled it out, it was still stuck inside. 

“Naughty little slut, look at you.” you chuckled, giving the base of the toy a little teasing tug, “Didn’t even know you had a bigger plug.”

“Ordered one last week just for you, miss.” George confessed behind blushing pink cheeks. 

“You’re such a good boy, baby.” you tisked. “How’d you sneak it past her?”

“Kept it under one of my old helmets in my office.” George answered obediently. “It’s where I keep all my presents for you.” 

“For you.” you corrected him. 

“For me.” he repeated softly. 

“Yeah, it’s all for you, angel.” you reminded him sweetly and gave the toy another little tug. 

George groaned softly and you kissed the bottom of his spine, holding him tenderly as you carefully eased out the second sphere. He was so sensitive and tight and it took a fair amount of effort to finally get the toy completely out of him with a careful hand. 

When it finally came free with a filthy wet pop, George gasped for breath after having held it for the last few long seconds and you stared at how his hole clenched and gaped back at you. You couldn’t help yourself but slide two fingers inside him, slicked up easily in the excess lube that coated his skin and dripped down the toy. The return of the sight fullness had George moaning softly, thankfully, and you kissed his back again before eyeing the anal beads that rested used in your open palm. Three fair sized spheres were equally spread up the narrow silicone base, glistening in lube, and the mere concept of him standing alone in his ensuite bathroom and lubing himself up to slide these in his ass for you had you pulsing with desire for the man at your mercy. 

The anal beads were tossed to the side of the bed, landing on top of his discarded shirt, and you kissed down his spine again as your fingers thrusted into him slowly. George’s reverberating moan had you smiling against his skin and prying apart his flesh with your free hand, giving you room to drop your tongue out and lick around your fingers that were pushing shallowly inside him. He literally withered and his legs naturally spread a little wider, welcoming you in closer. 

You pursed your lips and let a thick dribble of spit fall onto your fingers and your tongue followed after it, swirling it around the snug rim of muscle that hugged your two digits tightly. George groaned shakily and you lapped at his asshole gladly, loving the way he was so vocal and trusting with you. You would give him anything. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, baby.” George exhaled, staring at himself in the full-length mirror to his left, earning a full view of his naked body on hands and knees and your face buried behind him with your hand on his waist.

His breathing alone was erotic and you pulled your fingers out of him so you could have a clear shot at his ass with your tongue, kissing it wetly a few times as your slippery hand dropped down to take hold of his dick between his legs. George let out the shakiest little whine as you started stroking his cock sloppily and let your tongue swirl and pry at his asshole between wet messy kisses. He slumped down onto his forearms against the bed without tearing his locked gaze away from the mirror, wide eyed gaping at how you stroked his dick and smothered yourself between his cheeks. 

“Ohh-” he whimpered, fisting the pillow in his large hands, “Yeah, please-”

You pulled away from him with a taunt, “Does that feel good, baby boy?”

“Yes, miss. Feels so fucking good.” he pleaded. 

Your tongue nudged inside him and he pushed back against your face desperately. You kept a snug grip on the base of his cock, holding his balls in your palm at the same time, to give all your focus on rimming him filthily. The wet slurps that fell from your throat were only dramatized slightly because, in reality, he did make you drool uncontrollably. Your free hand pulled back to spank him again and as you did so, you could feel him clench under your tongue, making you chuckle warmly against him as you pulled him back on your mouth by a snug handful of his flesh. 

“Christ, I need it.” George begged, pushing back on your face some more, “I need you inside me.”

“Mhm?” you taunted against his body, spanking him again, ordering with a muffled voice as you kissed down the backs of his thighs, “Beg for it.”

“Please, fuck me.” he answered easily, the words spilling out of him, “I really, really need you to fuck me. I need it so bad. Been wanting it all day, mommy, please let me take your dick.” 

You dragged your tongue right back up his thigh and over his balls and perineum and you left him with one more wet kiss to his asshole. You could never say no to him. Not when he asked so prettily.

Sitting back from him, you left him with a hard slap across the ass, already starting to see the blush of pink of your handprint left behind on his fair skin as you told him, “I don’t want you touching yourself. Keep your hands flat on the headboard so I can see them.” 

George slid his hands out from underneath him and, resting forward on his elbows, he set his palms against the wood of your headboard. You gave him another little spank before getting off the bed. He watched intently as you reached behind your back to unclip your bra and let it fall to the floor, quickly followed by the drop of your panties. He licked his lips in anticipation and his gaze followed your every slight movement as you opened your bedside table drawer again to retrieve your purple dildo and black leather harness. 

“Oh my God.” George exhaled impatiently as he watched you buckle the harness around your hips and thighs, “That’s your biggest, right?”

“Yeah.” you answered, “Is that okay?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s okay.”

You dropped your smirk at his response as you tucked the dildo through the secure loop in the harness, “Of course you want the biggest one, fucking slut.”

George hid his smile into the crook of his arm with his hands still held against your headboard like you asked. His eyes never left you as you made sure the strap-on was secure and even when you climbed back onto the bed behind him, he stared at you through the mirror. You were awe-inspiring to him. 

The pop of the bottle of lube had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip but the dry squelch that came with the press of the pump wasn’t what was expected. George glanced over his shoulder at you as you shook it and then squeezed the pump again, earning nothing but a little drop to come out onto your hand. 

“Looks like I’m out of lube.” you announced. 

George’s eyes widened and he nearly sounded heartbroken, “No.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” you leaned over him to reach into your open drawer again, “I have a spare.”

He hid his embarrassment over his obvious momentary disappointment into the pillow, “Good.” 

“Just shows how often you come over, huh?” you gave his bum a little pat before unlocking the cap of the new bottle, “Already gone through the bulk size in a matter of a month.” 

“Sorry.” George mumbled, his voice muffled by fabric.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Georgie.” you assured him as you pumped a few generous squirts onto the strap and then slicked it up with your hand, “I always love having you over to hang out.” 

George offered a half smile that you didn’t catch at your little joke before he was countering gently, “You’re spending so much money on lube.”

“Fine then.” you compromised as you smeared some around his asshole and slid two fingers inside to get him nice and slick, “Next time, you bring your own bottle.” 

George chuckled softly, “Deal.” 

You grabbed his stray shirt again and wiped your hands off before tossing it and the bottle to the other side of the bed to give you your hands free. George’s flushed skin welcomed your warm hands and you caressed his waist and the flesh of his ass and you slid the length of the strap-on between his cheeks. 

“Get comfy, angel.” 

George slid his arms back underneath him to be propped up on his forearms, bent at the waist, with you between his spread knees. He shuffled back towards you a little so he could feel the slick jelly dildo poking against him. 

“Okay.” he said. 

You held the base of the toy between thumb and forefinger, sliding it teasingly between his cheeks as you asked, “Softer or rougher today, baby?”

“Whatever you want.” George replied, his voice strained with anticipation. 

You tisked at his response, “And yet I’m not the one getting it up the ass.” 

George smiled into the reflection of the mirror and he fisted your pillow underneath his arms as you lined up with his asshole. He took a routine few deep breaths and then you were slipping inside him slowly. Watching the both of you through the mirror, George could also see how his mouth dropped open and his face screwed up at the tight fit and he sunk his teeth into his forearm through the ache that it pushed through his insides. 

“Ah, fuck.” he squeaked. 

“Good boy.” you held his waist snugly to hold him steady as you guided the strap into him deeper, nice and slowly, “You’re so fucking tight, angel. Always makes me really have to push here.” 

When you reached about halfway, you stopped and leaned down to kiss his spine and your hands caressed his waist comfortingly as he adjusted to the size. George groaned and tried to push back on you some more. 

“Aww, you want it that bad, huh?” you chuckled, slapping your hand down against his ass as you sat back on your knees proudly, having him bent over in front of you, “Want me to give you more?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George mumbled. “Please.”

“Yeah? You’re so desperate for dick, aren’t you, angel? Just begging me to push it all the way in and fill your tiny little asshole right up.”

George withered at your words, “Oh God, please.” 

You eased in deeper, painfully slowly, and George’s grip tightened on the pillow as he stared with a narrowed strained expression into the mirror. You spanked him again before speaking, “Baby boy just needs to get fucked properly, isn’t that right? Coming crying to me to give him what he wants…to be filled up and fucked until he can’t think straight…called a pretty boy…darling little angel…my perfect little slut.” 

“Yeah, I’m your slut.” George whimpered, his biceps bulging as he strained against you and pushed his ass back right up against your body so the strap was tucked all the way inside him. His withering moan was heavenly and you slapped your hand down hard against his blushing flesh, a big handsome man turned to putty in your hands. 

“Beg for it.” you ordered. 

You met his eyes in the mirror as he stared at you longingly, a sweet desperate pout on his lips and he gave you a little whine before speaking angelically, “Please, miss, you own me. Please fuck me like your good little whore. I’ll be so good for you, baby, please, I need you to fuck me until I can’t think straight.”

The sharp slap of your hand against his ass made him wince and gasp. 

“Good boy.”

Another spank. 

“Good fucking boy.”

Another. 

George pushed back against you desperately, starting to fuck himself on the strap, “Please, please, please, gimme that dick.”

You gave him one more hard spank before you were grabbing the blushing flesh of his ass in both hands and yanking him back onto the toy. 

“Fuck.” George grunted, his mouth falling open as you started to fuck him slowly. His eyes literally rolled and he dropped his face into the crook of his arm. “Oh, fuck-” 

“There you go, angel.” you spanked him again as you thrusted into him steadily, “This what you needed?”

“Yes, ma’am.” he responded obediently. 

“Good boy.” 

Your hands gripped his waist as you gave him tauntingly slow, deep curling thrusts that had his hands gripping the pillow tightly. George’s trembling little moans had you biting back your proud smirk, pushing into his tense body until your hips were pressed right up against the curve of his ass again and again. 

“Feels so fucking good.” he exhaled. 

“Yeah?” you kept your slow pace going, “But you’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, isn’t that right?”

George groaned as you pushed deeply into him, “Yes, ma’am.”

You couldn’t help but start to thrust into him a little faster, paired nicely with a nice sharp spank to his blushing ass and you stared down at how it jigged with each nudge of your hips against it. George moaned into the pillow and kept himself in perfect place for you, the perfect angle for you to watch the thick dildo disappear inside him completely with each thrust. The lube squelched filthily between you and his skin was shimmering in it, keeping your motions gliding easily no matter how tight he gripped around the strap. 

“Can I touch my cock?” George asked, his words muffled by the pillow. 

You spanked him again, “No.” 

“Oh.” he whimpered in reply, smothering his face into the crook of his arm. 

“Am I not fucking you well enough, angel?” you taunted him with a voice filled with demeaning tones, “Am I not giving you what you want?”

“My God, I want more.” George pleaded. 

You spanked his ass again, “Who’s in charge?”

“You.” 

He squirmed on the bed and spread his legs a little farther apart with a huff. You slapped your hand down on his blushing ass again as you kept your lazy thrusts going, barely giving him enough to cause the bed to creak. In fact, the only sound was the steady squish of the lube and George’s whimpery breaths. 

Finally, 

“Red.”

George mumble of the safeword had you stopping right away and you rubbed your hands up his back comfortingly. 

“I hear you.” you acknowledged, “What happened? Do you want me to pull out?”

“No.” George whined, reaching back to grab your thigh to make sure you stayed tucked deeply inside him, “I just wanna cum.”

“That’s not a reason to use your safeword.” you spanked him harder in punishment, “You can’t use your safeword just because you’re not getting what you want. Last time I checked, you wanted to do whatever I wanted.” 

George groaned heavily into the sheets in frustration, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Now, was there something serious or were you just being a brat?”

George turned his head and pouted at you through the mirror, “Was just being a brat.”

“Forgot who’s in charge, hm?”

He refused to answer that question. 

“Let me remind you.”

When you pulled out of him, he let out a strained gasp and you left behind his gaping hole that you left like that just to make him ache and squirm. Instead, you got off the bed and walked around to the side, situating yourself to stand right in front of his head and you tangled your hand in the back of his hair to force him closer. 

“Open your mouth.”

George hesitated a moment—knowing what was coming—and he let his eyes raise up your body to your face as he opened his mouth obediently. Drunk on lust, your precision wasn’t great, and the tip of the lubed up dildo hit the corner of his mouth first as you tried to shove it in, smearing lube over his cheek, but he then turned his head slightly to help you get it in properly. The taste of artificial strawberry that came with the unpleasant texture of the excess lube that coated the strap-on made George’s eyebrows furrow and you pulled his mouth down farther around it. He gagged on it when he got only halfway and he tried to pull back but you held his head in place with a secure hand in his hair. 

“Show me what a needy little cockslut you are.” you spoke down to him, “Choke on my dick.” 

He didn’t have much of a choice as you started to thrust the strap into his mouth although he didn’t put up a fight against it either. Instead, from his position on his elbows, George raised a hand up to wrap around the base of the harness to try and control it as much as he could, even as you fucked the wet gags from his throat until he was drooling down his chin. With a furrowed expression of filthy punished bliss, George’s blue eyes raised up your body to your face and you were blessed with the sight of him taking your favourite dildo balls deep into his slobbery mouth. 

“God, fucking look at you.” you exhaled, your pussy absolutely throbbing at the mere sight of him, “You look like a pathetic fucking whore, choking on my strap like a good little toy.” 

George moaned weakly for you, tears brimming in his eyes as you fucked the dildo against the back of his throat and he gagged loudly around it. You pulled it back to give him a bit of a break to catch his breath while you smeared the faux cockhead against his spitty lips as he licked them breathlessly. But seconds later, you were pushing back into his mouth and tugging him down again onto the strap, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip at the gurgling sound he made as you filled his throat with your essence of power. He took over for you as he grew used to the motions and he drooled down the toy with ungraceful bobs of his head. 

As he did so, George dropped his hand from the base of the dildo to set a gentle hand against your inner thigh, only finding your skin damp in the process. He pulled off the strap with a faint wet pop and spoke up to you, “Are you okay?”

Ignoring his innocent question since you knew he had just found out how damn horny you were from the way you were literally dripping down your thighs, you lifted your right leg up off the ground and tossed it over his shoulder, tugging his head closer to the edge of the bed by his hair, “Clean it up.”

George dropped his tongue out to drag messily over your glistening pussy - something he had never done with you before. The act always felt too adulterous to him but in that moment, he was way too horny to care and he was ready to do anything to get you to fuck him again. His tongue had you withering and your body jumped slightly at his warm wet touch, even as he licked up your inner thighs and suckled on your damp skin. You rubbed your pussy against his mouth and George groaned against you, lapping at your folds and suckling on them greedily to taste you as much as he could. 

Still standing at the side of the bed, when you tried to adjust your position your leg behind his shoulder ended up bonking him in the back of the head. You gently rubbed your hand through his hair over the spot with a quick, “Shit, sorry.”

George barely pulled away from you as he replied with a hurried, “That’s okay. That’s okay.”

You stared down at him with his face between your legs and the thick purple dildo standing up tall from your harness and hindering the view off half of his face. But he kept his eyes on you right back with his long lashes fluttering slowly in pleasure as he ate you out hungrily and savoured the taste of you on his tongue. He swore you were the best thing he had ever tasted and he moaned against your cunt with his nose bumping against your clit, ignoring the ache of his neck at the slightly awkward angle just so he could smother himself in you. 

“God, look at my good boy.” you exhaled, your fingers tightening in the back of his hair, “So fuckin’ pussy whipped.” 

George’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at your words, his soft moan against you proof of just how much he was enjoying it, and he shook his head slightly to get his tongue deeper inside you, ready to please. Your heart was racing but you refused to show it, desperate to keep your higher ground above him just how he liked it. 

With your hand in his hair, you pulled him away from your pussy and he separated reluctantly with a wet slurp, peering up at you with glistening lips. You reached down with your free hand to smack his cheek a few times, speaking to him sweetly, “Look at my pretty boy with his face covered in my pussy juice just like he’s meant to.” 

“You taste so fucking good, mommy.” George breathed, licking his lips. 

“Yeah?” you pushed two fingers into his mouth and he let you pry him open so you could bend down slightly and spit against his eager tongue, “Aren’t you a lucky fucking boy then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he agreed easily.

You took hold of the strap and carefully guided it over his wet lips and over his cheek, rubbing his face with it even as his eyes fluttered closed and he groaned filthily. His lips were pouted and cheeks were flushed pink and you slapped the heavy jelly dildo against his face a few times. 

“Kiss it.” you ordered. 

George puckered out his lips and turned his head slightly to deliver a kiss to the head of your strap and as you rubbed it over his mouth a few more times, he gave it a few more kisses. 

“Open your mouth.” 

He did, and you slid it back into his mouth against his tongue and he gladly moaned around it, starting to suck it off right away. With shallow bobs of his head, he was already starting to gag on it and his fingers wrapped in the leather harness that was snug around your thigh. A single tear trickled down his cheek and he stared up at you longingly, desperate for praise. 

“My pretty boy.” you swiped the tear away with your thumb and held him tenderly by the head, “You look so fucking pretty with these tears on your face from my dick.”

George smothered himself down on it some more, gagging loudly around it, and you scratched your fingers gently through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

You asked him sweetly, “Gonna be a good little boy for me and let me fuck your ass?”

He pulled off the strap to answer breathlessly, “Yes, ma’am.”

You took your leg back from over his shoulder so you were standing properly at the side of the bed and you gave his cheek a few little pats before bending down to take his lips with yours in a filthy kiss. George honestly whimpered thankfully at the treat, kissing you back insistently for only a few seconds before you were breaking away from him and returning to your rightful spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Right up on your hands and knees now, handsome.” you instructed while you shuffled up behind him again.  

George arranged himself without complaint and as he did so, you grabbed the bottle of lube again and reapplied some generously to your dildo to make up for the prior application that was wasted by the faux blowjob you just made him give you. Again, his shirt was used to wipe off your hand after you stroked the strap in lube and then you were angling the head right up against his puckered hole. 

“Please.” George exhaled. “Please, I need it so bad, miss.” 

You eased back inside him slowly and he let out a long trembling moan right along with it until you were fully inside him. He then received three hard spanks by your hand before you were grabbing his waist and starting to fuck him again. 

“Ugh, fuck.” he withered, fisting the sheets under his straight arms. 

“Good boy.” you praised, spanking him again, “That’s my good boy.”

George’s wavering moan was shameless and it only grew louder as you tangled a hand in the back of his hair and yanked his head back, making him whine out to the walls of your room. He reached a hand up to smack flat against the wall behind your bed, trying to push himself back into your every thrust, pleasure smeared all over his face. 

You propped one foot up onto the mattress to fuck him deeper, really giving it to him until the bed was creaking underneath you. With another spank, you reached underneath to grab his dick and gave it a gentle squeeze before wrapping your hand around his balls and giving them a little tug. George’s tight grunt from his throat was mixed pleasurably with pain and his eyes screwed up as you literally had him by the hair and the balls. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” you reminded him. 

“No, ma’am.” he answered squeakily, “I’m yours.”

“That’s right. These big, heavy balls are mine.” 

George let out the sweetest moan as he pushed back against you and you gripped him a little tighter, fucking him strongly until the headboard was hitting the wall in steady thuds. The whimpers tumbled from George’s throat and it wasn’t long before he was unable to hold himself up anymore and he slumped down onto his forearms against the bed. You let go of his hair to let his head drop between his arms and you spanked him right across his blushing ass instead, watching yourself fuck him strongly. 

“I know you need this.” you spoke down to him, “I know you can’t live without my cock in your ass.”

“Uh huh.” George whined. 

“You might like pussy but you can’t fucking live without my cock up your ass, huh?”

“No, ma’am.” George agreed easily, his face screwed up in pleasure, “I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You spanked his ass hard, “Tell me you’re my little cockslut.”

“I’m your little cockslut. I’m your slut.” George cried out. “Fuck!” 

“That’s right.” you slid both of your hands up his back and pressed them down against his shoulder blades, forcing him to slide flat on the bed so he was bent right over at the waist and his arms wrapped around your pillow to smother his face in it. He moaned more freely that way and you wished you had a mirror in front of him so you could see the way his eyes rolled at how deep you got. 

“Who’s my good boy?” you asked sternly. 

“I am.” George answered shakily, words muffled by the pillow, “I’m your good boy.” 

You held him there by the back of his neck, spanking his ass with your other hand again. The headboard was hitting the wall loud enough that you might have wanted to be worried if your neighbours could hear but your only priority in that moment was to make the man who had your heart cum completely hands free. 

His biceps were massive like that, only flexed more with how he gripped the pillow in his arms so tightly, tensing his entire body so much so that you could feel him getting tighter around the strap that pounded away inside him. You spanked him again just to spur on more of those angelic whimpers that he muffled into your pillow and his knees pressed harder into the mattress to try and escape your overwhelming gift. You only made you grab his balls again in a snug grasp, keeping him in place with a squealing whine out of his throat until he suddenly went silent. His right hand flew out from under the pillow and he slammed it hard against the headboard, wrapping his slender fingers around the white wood until his knuckles nearly blended into the paint colour. 

“Cum for me.” you ordered, still fucking into him at that consistent pace, “Cum for me, angel.” 

George could barely breathe as he let out a strained “ohh-” into your pillow. He shuddered as he came, gaping into the silk pillowcase with the most erotic expression you wished he could have blessed you with a front row view of. His asshole gripped right up around the strap but you just grabbed his waist to help thrust into him steadily through it regardless, especially with how he trembled. 

“Good boy.” you praised richly, “Good boy, Georgie.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” George heaved for breath as he lifted his face out of your pillow and turned to his left to look in the full length mirror again, being met with his erotic pose and flushed tear streaked face. “Shit.” 

You rubbed your hands warmly over his back and left a gentle kiss to his spine before slowly pulling out of him. He audibly winced at the sudden emptiness and he carefully rolled over onto his back to rest against your pillows with his arms draped above his head, his chest rising and falling heavily. His legs were spread slightly and you were positioned between them still, earning the ethereal sight of him draped out naked and blissful on your bed with his skin blushed pink with arousal and streaks of creamy white scattered over his abs and down the shaft of his still-hard cock. That ring around the base was gripping him for dear life and you ran a gentle fingertip around it, watching how it made him flinch with a soft grunt. 

“Beautiful man.” you breathed, licking your lips as your eyes soaked him all in. 

George pushed a hand through his frazzled brown hair and offered you a weak smile in return. You reached for his shirt still tossed to the side of the bed and you used the fabric to wipe up the creamy white mess from his abs and around his dick all while he watched you intently, hands tucked behind his head. He then reached down and carefully slid the cockring off his softening dick with a heavy sigh, “I’m starving.” 

You chuckled lightly and gave his waist a squeeze, asking through your own breathlessness, “Me too. What are you feeling like? Pizza?” 

“Yeah, that sounds so fucking good right now.” he agreed easily. 

“Okay. I can order some.” you offered, “Do you wanna get cleaned up a little in the meantime?”

“Yeah.” George started to make a move to sit up and his light wince had you smiling and dusting a kiss to his shoulder. 

You watched him disappear into the bathroom, leaving you with the slippery cockring in hand to be in charge of washing up the toys while he washed up himself. First, you ordered the pizza so while it was being prepared, you had time to tidy up. You threw out the empty bottle of lube and dumped your now-warm unfinished drinks from the living room and began to scrub the used toys in the kitchen sink. Washed and dried, the purple dildo rested heavy in your hand and you couldn’t help but strap it back onto the harness, letting it dangle straight out, proudly, from your body as you muddled around your apartment in the nude to get things in order. There was some sense of pride and power about it. 

After growing familiar with each other, George felt perfectly comfortable showering at your place and he did so that late afternoon in the privacy of your bathroom. You listened to his muffled voice singing a little off-key in the shower and part of you ached to join him; lather him up in your body wash and feel every crevice of his body under the warm water. So you distracted yourself from your impossible thoughts by picking up his discarded clothes from your bedroom floor and you folded them, placing his phone on your bedside table for him to retrieve later. When you set it down, the wallpaper of his girlfriend stared back at you; some professional photoshoot she did from one of her modeling gigs. You stared at it blankly until his screen went black again. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening had you moving away from the presence of his phone and you looked over as he walked into your bedroom with your towel hanging low around his waist. He sent you a small smile which you returned and he slid past you, his eyes caught by the black leather harness and purple dildo that still sat pretty around your waist. His little smirk was unmissable and he grabbed his underwear from where you had folded it and placed it on top of your dresser. 

“Still wearing it?” he nodded towards the strap.

“Yeah.” you sat on the side of your bed, watching how the jelly dildo wobbled for a moment, and you replied to him, “Makes me feel all powerful.” 

“Try having a dick 24/7.” he teased as he dropped your towel to leave himself bare in the light of the sunset streaming in through your window. “No wonder why men think they can rule the world.” 

“I dunno…” you said, shamelessly watching him pull his underwear up his legs, “I can feel equally powerful as a woman sometimes too.”

“You are incredibly powerful,” George complimented before picking up your towel from the floor, “Sorry about using your towel, by the way. I was covered in lube and I seriously needed a shower.”

You shrugged, “No problem. What’s mine is yours.” 

He sent you a smile on his way back out of the bedroom and you watched him disappear towards the bathroom again. You pressed your fist against your chest for a moment with how strong and burning your heartbeat felt in moments like that where for a second it felt like a hint of domestic life with the man who had your heart and soul. 

Your phone rang to alert you that the pizza arrived and you let the delivery driver into the building so he could bring it to the door. When he knocked, George called out to you that he was going to answer it so you waited in your nakedness in the safety of your room. Seconds later, George joined you with the steaming pizza box in hand, still dressed in only his underwear, and you scooted backwards on your bed so he could join you. 

The two of you made a little pile of pillows against the headboard to rest against comfortably and you retrieved your laptop from under your bed so you could find something to watch on Netflix while you ate. You selected a choice together while George opened the pizza box and pulled his first slice from the pie, holding it carefully with both hands as he leaned back against your pillows. 

“I’ll pay you back for half.” he said through his first bite. 

“No, don’t be silly.” you replied without looking up from your screen, “My treat.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind.” 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “You’re not paying for me to fuck you.” 

He scoffed, “Well don’t put it like that.” 

You pulled a smile and focused back on the Netflix home screen and your intentful scrolling, “Isn’t she going to wonder why you’re not home for dinner?”

George shrugged, “She’ll be out with friends anyway.” 

You didn’t answer. 

“Why?” he pressed. 

You shrugged and selected the next episode of the show you had started together before resting back against the pillows alongside him, “Just curious.” 

“Did you want me to go?” 

Your head whipped over to look at him quickly, “God, no. Not at all. I love it when you’re here.”

It was hard to hold back the strong emotion and adoration behind your words. George just met your smile for a beat before turning back to his pizza and the opening scene of the TV show. 

He shifted in place slightly and let out a little strained sigh, peaking your attention back over to him. He answered your silent inquiry with a light chuckle and a, “It kinda hurts to sit.”

You licked away a grin and served yourself a slice of pizza.

As the episode progressed and the pizza grew smaller as you ate, you found yourself naturally leaning towards each other on your bed until your heads were nearly resting together. You couldn’t help yourself but glance over at him discreetly, catching him watching the show so intently that his eyebrows had the slightest furrow to them. He looked so cute like that and you could have stared at him for hours with just as much interest as any TV show you played. You just craved him so strongly in every way possible. 

His low chuckle drew your attention to your laptop again, noting the steamy long-awaiting kiss shared between the two main characters behind the swell of emotional music. George tisked, “Took long enough.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “Too bad he hasn’t divorced his wife yet.”

George countered casually, “He’s creating a whole new church to do so, that’s how dedicated he is for this woman. Give the guy some time. You can’t create a whole new religion in an afternoon.” 

You wondered if your discreet meaning had just gone right over his head and you analyzed his face as he watched the progression of the scene at your side. Sensing your stare, he turned to look at you too. 

“What?” he asked. 

Your mind swirled with all sorts of sappy confessions of your undying love for him, but the only thing that made it past your brain’s filters was a messy unimportant discussion question of, “Do you think Henry VIII ever took it up the ass?”

George snorted, “Maybe.”

“Anne Boleyn here seems like a boss bitch, to be honest. I could see her pegging the king.”

“Would you?”

“Peg the king?” you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

George looked back at you, “Mhm?”

“Only if you were the king.”

His lips perked up at the corner in a cheeky little grin at your response and he reached over to grab the purple dildo that was still secured around your waist and he jokingly aimed to put you closer by it while his face leaned in towards yours. You gladly let him kiss you, feeling those same swells of emotion that had been encapsulated in the music of the scene you had been watching. Leaning into each other, you raised your hand up to slide around the side of his neck to keep his lips on yours as you shared slow passionate kisses that filled your insides with butterflies. 

You turned towards him a little more, determined to savour the feeling of his kisses as they were often few and far between - especially unwarranted like this - and yet they were your favourite part of your little situationship. You could taste the pizza on his tongue and the heat from the shower still lingering on his skin and although the scent of his cologne was now mostly replaced with the scent of your own body wash, it only made you realize how much better it smelt on him. You were completely enamoured with him. 

Greedily, your hand slid down his bare chest and around his waist, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the tension of his muscles with his body turned towards you the slightest amount. George was leaning back against the headboard and plentiful pillows comfortably, letting you lead your sloppy kisses that took precedence over the scene still playing on your laptop. He pulled away from you to kiss down your chest instead and his large hand guided one of your breasts to his mouth so he could take your nipple between his lips. You shifted beside him to give him a better angle and he tongued at your nipple and sucked on it until it was hard, humming pleasantly against your chest before pulling back with a wet pop. 

“Haven’t had enough, have you?” you breathed, sliding your hand into the back of his hair as he took your opposite nipple in his mouth for a quick suck and then he peppered impatient kisses up your neck.

“Mm mm.” he shook his head faintly and nipped at your earlobe to make you shiver. 

You pulled away from him for a moment just long enough to pause the episode and then close your laptop and set it and the pizza box back on the ground all while George adjusted himself with a giddy smile. When you turned back to him, your hand drifted up his leg and over the front of his snug briefs to rub the obvious shape of his cock hidden underneath while your lips moved in to meet his again. He moaned softly into your mouth at your teasing touches and right away was making a move to push his underwear down his legs. Permitting it, you let him drop them off the side of the bed before he was grabbing the strap again and pulling you closer by the harness. 

Your lips met again in messy tongue-led kisses and you wrapped your hand around his semi-soft dick to help him get harder, gently caressing the underside of the head with the pad of your thumb. He shuttered at your touch and held you close by the back of your neck, naturally spreading his legs wider for you. 

“Good boy.” you praised into his mouth between passionate kisses, “I’m gonna make you feel so good. Leave those pretty legs spread for me.” 

George licked his lips as you pulled away from him and he bent his legs up and spread them wider on your bed while he watched you shift over to your bedside table and grab the bottle of lube again and something from your drawer. You set the clean prostate vibrator between your lips while you popped the cap on the bottle of lube and squirted some onto your fingers under the impatient eye of the man with you. He stroked himself lazily and you offered him a generous squirt onto the head of his cock to help him out…his gentle hum was thanks enough. 

You then smeared your fingers around his asshole, reapplying the lube that had been washed away in the shower, and he winced faintly at the feeling of your warm touch against his sensitive muscle. It was still slightly gaping from your previous fucking and you only slid the tips of two fingers inside just to make sure he was lubricated sufficiently. George’s soft whine was impatient and angelic and you pulled the silicone vibrator from your mouth with your free hand so you could lean down and capture his lips in a kiss instead. He reached for you adoringly, still stroking his dick as he held your lips on his with his other hand, kissing you like his life depended on it and it made you dizzy with lust. You wanted him forever. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from his lips to focus on your goal. With another pump of lube to the end of the vibrator, you smeared it in enough to cover the ribbed shaft and then angled it carefully against his glistening hole. George shifted a bit farther down against the pillows and spread his legs a little wider, watching with his bottom lip between his teeth as you slowly eased the toy inside him. His muscles hugged the silicone erotically, stretching over each ridge and curve until it was tucked securely in place. The flared base had a short arm that reached along the length of his perineum and nestled right behind his balls so when you turned it on, the steady vibrations covered him completely. 

George’s face literally withered in pleasure, eyes rolling and mouth falling agape, and he stared up at you with that lustful expression that had your insides fluttering at the mere sight of him. Your one finger rested against the base to make sure the vibrator was secure in place, watching his physical reaction from your position on your knees between his spread legs. 

“How's that?” you asked. 

“Intense,” George exhaled, “Good.” 

Glancing down to his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, you stated, “You’re getting really hard.” 

As if that were a reminder, George gave himself a few lazy pumps, “Yeah.” 

You licked your lips, staring at his dick shamelessly as you held the vibrator in place, going completely heart eyes over the sight of how big it was in his large hand, glistening in lube and already pearling precum from the swollen head. With a nudge to his wrist, you got him to let go so you could have a clear view of his entire cock and how thick and heavy it looked, angled right up against his abdomen. You just wanted it so badly. Honestly, you could have cried. 

George squirmed slightly from the vibrations inside him and you gave his dick a little pet with the palm of your hand, earning a soft moan from his chest. The pad of your index finger rubbed taunting just under the head in that sensitive spot and his dick flinched naturally from your feather soft touches. 

“I want you inside me.” you breathed. 

George hummed tightly, answering just as quietly with a blissful waver to his voice, “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” you pressed. 

“You know why not. I can’t risk anything.” 

“She won’t know.” 

“She might.”

Still gently rubbing his cock with your fingertips, you pressed the button at the bottom of the vibrator with your other hands, making it increase in intensity. George’s head dropped back against the pillows with a tight groan, his legs trying to curl up towards his chest if it weren’t for you sitting pretty between them. 

You weren't done trying, letting your feelings for him cloud your judgement and the unwritten rules of your pre-agreed upon situationship. “What’s she gonna do? Whine to her friends because she can’t satisfy her boyfriend so he found someone who could?” 

George groaned your name through a sigh. 

“What?” you answered innocently, loving the way he writhed against your bed just to feel more of those vibrations in all the right places. You had him right where you wanted him, under your complete control, and maybe you got too into that, taking his moment of submission to get a step above him, “Bet she doesn’t even know how to treat you…how to really take dick. She probably just lays there.” 

He repeated your name firmly as if trying to get you to stop but his tone sounded much more pleasurable than annoyed thanks to the toy tucked inside him. 

Your finger trailed down the length of his dick slowly, taunting him, “I’m right here, I could just sink down on your big thick cock so easily.”

He whimpered your name again, sinking his nails into your thighs faintly with his legs spread wide on either side of you. 

“Your poor dick just wants some attention, look at him, he’s so swollen and angry.” you pouted innocently as you wrapped your hand around it to lift it up off his abdomen and gave him a few faint strokes. “So yummy.” 

He groaned your name shakily once more. 

You stroked his dick slowly and tauntingly, drifting your gaze up to his face again to note how his expression withered from the vibrator still buzzing away inside him, his cheeks pink and eyebrows furrowed prettily. With a sultry smile, you asked him, “Doesn’t my pretty angel want to know what a good pussy can feel like?”

“Ohh-“ George whined, staring right back at you from where he was draped against your bed and plentiful pillows. 

“My perfect boy deserves a real woman. Gotta know what one feels like at least once in your life.” 

“Mm-“ George’s hips ground upwards and in doing so he thrusted into your hand the slightest bit. He grabbed your thighs tighter, especially as your hand started to twist your motions over the thick shaft of his cock. His eyes were a little glassy with lust and he kept licking and biting his lips impatiently for more of that addictive pleasure. 

“Don’t you wanna feel how tight and warm my pussy is for you?” you asked softly, pulling his hand between your legs and under the purple dildo and leather harness so his fingers grazed over your wet folds, “I’ll let you fuck me raw so you can feel every little inch of it. All for you.”

“Oh my God.” George breathed shakily, his voice trembling, “You’re so wet.”

“Thanks to you.” you replied smoothly. “You wanna feel it? Want me to sink down on this perfect fucking cock of yours so you can get a taste of what a real woman can do?” 

George literally whimpered at the mere thought, trying to keep himself composed despite the intense vibrations that were still sending warm shockwaves through his body. He gaped up at you behind furrowed brows, digging his heels into the mattress to try and work through the pleasure that was building inside him. Still stroking his cock with one hand while the other forced him to get a feel of how soaked and ready you were for him, you didn’t let up no matter how much he groaned and squirmed, even when he reached his free hand to try and grab your wrist to slow you down. 

“Answer me.” you ordered, stroking his cock faster. “Yes or no? Do you want my pussy?”

“Yes.” George squeaked, “Yes, mommy, please, I want it.” 

You shoved his hands away from your body completely and he held them obediently in mid-air as you tossed one leg over his lap and then his other and he watched you with wide eyes, grinding down against the bed as the vibrator hit all the right spots. With a gentle slap to his cheek, you then shoved two fingers in his mouth past his parted lips and he gagged around them slightly but didn’t protest. 

“That’s my good fucking boy.” you praised through your teeth. “Letting me use you like my little toy, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” George spoke through your fingers and his hands took to your hips, his once obvious hesitation was replaced with horny impatience as he tried to pull you down on him. 

“Such an impatient little slut.” you tisked. “Hold your dick for me and beg for it.”

George reached down to grab hold of his cock and he angled it up for you as you hovered above him at just a distance for him to graze the head between your slick lips. It was hard to stay focused with the vibrator still buzzing inside him but he kept wanting more, more, more…so he obeyed you, speaking his desires through your fingers still in his mouth, “Please, miss, I want your pussy. I want your perfect little pussy on my dick so fucking bad. Let me be your toy…wanna be a good boy for you.” 

The moment you sank down enough to let the head of his cock slip inside the tight confines of your cunt, his eyes literally rolled. He moaned heavenly through your bedroom, drooling around your fingers, and he grabbed your waist to try to slow you down. But you were a woman on a mission after having waited so long for that exact moment that you didn’t have an ounce of patience. He was so big that the stretch ached between your legs and over your hips and you had to pull your fingers from his mouth to set your hands down flat against his shoulders to support yourself through it, digging your nails into his toned skin. 

“Oh my fucking God.” George whimpered, peering down his naked body to watch how his dick disappeared inside you, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“What do you say?” you asked sternly as your ass met his thighs and you were stuffed full of him, pinching his cheeks in your hand.

“Thank you, miss.” George responded shakily. 

Drunk on your unbelievable ability to convince him to engage in such adulterous acts, you used the leverage from his shoulders to start to bounce on his lap. His hands found your waist again with a tight groan that fell from his chest and his face screwed up in ecstasy. 

“Thank you.” he repeated, strained and pretty. 

With the harness still strapped securely around your hips, the firm jelly dildo bounced in the air in time with your motions and the clap of your skin against his was arguably the best thing you had ever heard. You swore you could feel the reverberations of the vibrator up through his balls and cock and deep into your cunt but maybe that was just you trembling with adrenaline and lust, overwhelmed with the reality of your situation. He was so big inside you and the balance between that and the relief of finally getting what you wanted brought honest tears to your eyes.

He sounded even better when you rode him than when you pegged him: a beautiful symphony of lustful groans and adoring whimpers and intense breaths that only showed your hold over him if nothing else. 

He was a mess of ‘oh my God’ and intelligible sounds that had your pussy gripping tighter around him naturally, forcing his head to toss back against the pillows as he gripped your hips pleadingly and dug his nails right into your skin. The sharp pinch of his grip only spurred you on, desperate to make him completely lose himself to you like he never had before. It seemed to be working too because soon he was growing quieter and his face was spread with ecstasy, barely able to keep his eyes open, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you. 

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” he whimpered. 

“Already?” you taunted, sliding a hand around his throat to pin his head down against the pillows to choke him a little, keeping up your dizzying bounces, “Filthy boy. Wanna cum inside me?”

“Oh, God, yeah, can I?” he withered as if he had been hoping for it but afraid to ask. 

“Of course, baby boy. I’d love for you to cum in me.” you cooed, “Show me who I belong to. Fill me up.”

George’s hands on your hips yanked you right down on him and held you there, his biceps bulging as he held you against your attempt to keep going but he certainly was stronger than you. With a trembling moan and eyes rolling with pure euphoria, George ground up against you slightly to cum as deep as he could into your dripping cunt. His entire body shuttered and the shower of moans and gasps that spilled from his lips was intoxicating to you. 

“Good boy.” you praised him loudly through his orgasm, unable to hide the beaming grin that spread across your face at the feeling of the first spurt releasing inside you, “Good fucking boy, gimme all that cum. Every last fucking drop is mine.”

“Yes, mommy.” George whimpered tightly, “It’s yours.” 

The buzzing toy was still tucked inside him and, now incredibly sensitive, George winced intensely at the sensation. You reached behind you to get between his legs and turn it up one more notch. 

“Oh shit!” George squealed out, trying to push you off of him as he writhed against your bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Is that too much?” you taunted. 

“Please, miss, I can’t take it!” George stumbled out, how voice wavering and stumbling over his words, falling into a pathetic mess of whimpers and cries. 

“Oh, my pretty angel can’t take all this pleasure, hm?” you lifted up from his lap, letting his dick slip out of you and fall against his thigh, glistening in white cream and your own arousal, and you grabbed his hand to force him to touch you. Your body dripped his cum right back out and onto his fingers and then you wrapped his hand around the dildo still strapped to your body to start to slick it up in his own natural lubrication. 

“I can’t.” George panted through a tight groan, “I fucking can’t, baby.”

You slid off his lap and back between his spread and trembling legs and you grabbed his thigh to flip him over onto his stomach. He moved for you like he weighed nothing, perfectly content in doing whatever you wanted of him even when it felt like so much that he was close to tears. Laying flat on your bed, George ground against your mattress as his arms encircled your pillow again, smothering his moans into the fabric as his legs trembled. You spared him with a click of the vibrator to turn it off and he was gasping with relief to the walls of your bedroom, heaving for air. But you worked quickly to slide the toy out of his ass and barely gave him a second to process the sudden emptiness before you were stuffing him with the strap again. 

George literally mewled at the feeling.

With your legs straddling his, he was kept nice and tight and right away you were starting to thrust into him messily. He whimpered generously and you leaned down over top of him to grab his wrists and pull them out from under your pillow so you could pin them down on top instead, holding him down while your hips shoved roughly against his ass in rhythmic strokes. 

“Oh God.” George whined loudly, bunching his hands into fists from where you had them held. 

The dildo was lubed up in his own cum and you fucked it back into him roughly in long deep strokes that had his eyes fluttering shut in filthy bliss as you fucked the moans from his chest. You were going so hard with it that the bed was starting to hit the wall in time with your thrusts and George’s moans were only getting louder and tighter. 

“Who do you belong to?” you asked strongly, biting your lip at the feeling of his cum leaking back out of you and down your inner thighs. 

“You, mommy.” he answered easily. “I belong to you!”

“That’s right.” you spoke down to him, your voice laced with taunting lust. “That means I can show up to your house in the middle of the night and rip your fucking clothes off and fuck you any time I want, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck.” George groaned pitchily at the threat, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yeah?” you spoke through your teeth and gripped his wrists tighter, really forcing yourself to fuck him harder with precise curls of your hips in time with each hard jab, “My little slut just wants me to use him whenever I want?”

George cried out shakily, barely getting out an “uh huh” without his voice breaking. His eyes couldn’t stay open and part of you wished you could have a better angle to see his face as you fucked him flat into your bed. He only got louder and although he tried to smother his noises into your pillow, his pleasure was obvious.

“Jesus Christ—” George sobbed out, “You’re hitting my fucking prostate dead fucking on, baby…shit!”

“That’s my good boy.” you smirked to yourself proudly, “Give into it for me. I want you to cum again.” 

George’s large hands flexed stiffly from where you had his wrists pinned down, his fingers stretching out like starfish in need of something to grip onto. 

“Come on, angel, you got one more in you, I know it.” you encouraged, “Show me who really owns you.”

“You.” George choked, quickly followed by some incomprehensible noise that might have sounded to your neighbours like he was in pain but you knew—better than anyone—that it stemmed from nothing but pure, raw, overstimulated pleasure. You had been the only one to ever make him make noises like that after all. He rushed out some incomprehensible sentence in which the only word you could make out was ‘cum’ and then seconds later he was tensing right up around the strap and falling perfectly silent. 

“Good boy.” you praised strongly as he rutted himself against your bed desperately, undoubtedly ruining your sheets in yet another round of cum but you certainly didn’t mind. 

George was gasping and writhing underneath you as you slowed down so as to not overwhelm him too much. It was that balance of pleasure and pain he liked but you never wanted to overstep any possible boundaries. This was close, however. 

You leaned down to kiss his neck and his shoulder and you let his wrists go so you could sit back on your knees and then slowly pull out of him for the last time that evening. His little hum when you left him empty had you caressing his ass tenderly and you kissed the bottom of his spine comfortingly. 

“Such a good boy for me.” you whispered, running your hands up and down his back lovingly to help ease him out of that intense session, “How was that?”

“Crazy.” George exhaled and then let out a tired laugh, “Fuck.”

“Done for today?” you asked. 

He made a move to roll over so you shifted off of him to let him but he grabbed your arm so you couldn’t go far, making one simple request with a tug of the harness around your waist, “Take this off. I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise but you didn’t question it, hurriedly unbuckling the leather harness to drop it and the attached dildo to the floor as George scooted farther down your bed on his back, giving you room to soon toss a leg over his head. 

“You sure this is okay?” you asked quietly. 

He was still breathless from your very eventful afternoon but he nodded and grabbed your thighs to guide you down onto his mouth, promising, “Very.”

His eager tongue met the soft skin of your inner thighs first and he licked up the droplets of his own cum that were leaking down, adding open mouthed kisses to the mix just to have you shuttering at the teasing touches of his mouth. He brushed his nose over your pussy first and then guided you a little closer to glide his tongue right between your folds, ending with a little suckle to your clit. You were well past turned on after a full afternoon of pleasing him and ignoring your own ache that he barely had to touch you and you were already so responsive - not to mention that this was the first day he had ever touched you like this. Usually it was always all about him. 

Your hands grasped the headboard with a shaky sigh, almost afraid to look at him as you chose to stare at the wall in front of you instead. George’s tongue helped itself to your body and he started to eat you out sloppily, right away encouraging you to start to rock against his mouth slightly. He moaned against you and pressed his fingers into the flesh of your thighs a little tighter to settle you farther down on his face. You were nervous that you were going to hurt him if you put too much weight on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He seemed insistent that he be taken up entirely by you and your body. 

“Fuck.” George had to pull back to breathe for a second, still breathless from his catered evening, and he kissed your thighs again before speaking up to you, “You still taste so fucking good—maybe even better—with my cum dripping out of you.” 

“Holy shit.” you withered. You could dish the dirty talk but taking it was new and it turned you into a flustered mess. You had only imagined him saying such things to you that now, having it as reality, felt so surreal. 

You finally permitted yourself to look down at him between your legs as he returned his mouth to your pussy, swearing your eyes molded into the shape of hearts at the sight of his big blue eyes staring right back up at you. The very same eyes you fell a little too hard for. It made your stomach erupt in nauseating butterflies and your hand dropped to his soft hair. 

“Oh my God, George.” you moaned greedily, grinding on his face slightly and your hand in his hair aimed to pull him closer. 

He took your hint and tugged you right down on his mouth, nearly smothering himself in your cunt as he ate you out so heavenly and stared right up into your eyes above him. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled from your lips, slivers tearing up your spine as you felt that unmissable warmth coiling inside you. It had barely been a minute and you were already so close—all too aroused by him and his perfect body to need any further edging. 

The moment that wave of pleasure tore through you, you dropped your second hand from the headboard to grab his hair too, crying his name out perfectly to the walls of your bedroom that wasn’t unlike those nights you found yourself alone. Now, however, he was there to be blessed by the sound of your voice crying out for him lustfully. Oh God, it made his heart race. He knew he was fucked from that moment on. Metaphorically. You had already covered the physically well before. 

When you finally rolled off of him and slumped backwards against the pillow lined headboard yourself, you were breathing heavily right alongside him, letting the silence of your apartment linger between you. Although your curtains were still open, the sun had long since set and you were restored to the faint light of your bedside table lamp, the darkness of the rest of your apartment leaking through your half closed bedroom door. Neither you nor George really knew what to say after all of that. 

Instead of talking about the lines you crossed, you returned to hostess mode, looking over at him laying flat beside you to ask, “Did you need a towel or something? Water?”

He cracked a small smile at your generosity and he looked up at you in return, his hands resting on his bare chest, “Water would be great. I can just use my shirt you apparently claimed as a cum rag earlier to clean myself up.”

“Sorry.” you chuckled. 

He just gave you a little wink as you slunk off the bed to help yourself to the kitchen. You walked through your modest apartment comfortably in the nude and navigated the kitchen by the light of the city lights leaking through the balcony doors in the adjacent living room. When you returned to your bedroom with two glasses of water, George was already back in his underwear and getting himself under the sheets of your bed. 

“What are you doing?” you asked teasingly as you passed him his glass. 

He thanked you before answering, “I wanna cuddle.” 

You would never say no to that. 

“Let me pee and wash the toys and then I’ll come back.” you said. 

“No,” George pouted and reached for you, linking his finger in yours, “Wash the toys in the morning.”

“Okay.” you didn’t need convincing. You leaned in to kiss his nose and then hurried out of the room to the washroom. 

It didn’t take you very long—mostly because you had the boy who had your heart waiting for you in your bed—and soon you were back in your room and pulling on a pair of underwear and stepping over the plentiful used toys that littered the floor before returning to him. George’s water glass was empty but before you could ask if he wanted more, he was holding up your blankets to welcome you in without a complaint. Smiling, you nestled yourself into bed with him and he wrapped you up in his arms. 

Cuddling after hooking up wasn’t new to either of you but it felt heavier this time…like it carried a weight that neither of you could quite place. With your head on his chest, you listened to his strong heartbeat and caressed your thumb over the smooth skin of his waist, holding him close for as long as you were able. 

George interrupted your quiet moment with a stroke of your hair and a quiet, “So…remind me to buy you a new duvet.” 

“Why?” you asked. 

He reached down to pick up the fabric a bit farther down between thumb and forefinger, showing off the messy white stain on the royal blue material, “I kinda…came on it.” 

You snorted and just cuddled closer to him, “That’s okay.”

“It’s okay that you have my cum stain on your bed for all eternity?” 

“Yeah.” you giggled tiredly, “Reminds me of you. And how I am the only one who can make you cry from pleasure.”

“Oh psh,” George scoffed, “I did not cry.”

“Almost.”

“Almost.” 

Under the blankets, you draped one of your legs over his as if needing to feel him as close as possible, making sure he wasn’t going to leave just yet. He had someone to go home to but once he walked out your door, you would be terribly alone. You hated when he left.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both just appreciated the silence and the comfort of each other to ease you out of your tiring afternoon. It was arguably your favourite part of your situationship because it was the time when you could close your eyes and pretend that what you had was real and not just meaningless sex. Even still, despite the selfishness that filled your heart, you knew the real divide of right and wrong. 

“You can’t fall asleep here.” you whispered into the dark room. 

George sighed softly, confessing sleepily against your hair, “I don’t wanna go.” 

“I don’t want you to go either.” you replied. 

“Let me just stay for a few more minutes?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder to dust a kiss to his jawline, replying easily with a gentle, “Okay.”

Those few more minutes turned into a few more hours and soon you were blinking awake to the bright light of the morning seeping in through the edges of your curtains, not remembering how or when you actually fell asleep. The first thing that you processed was the weight around your middle and the breath against your back and your heart dropped at the realization that George had fallen asleep in your bed and thus never went home to his girlfriend. Your immediate heart drop stemmed from your instinctual compassionate nature but once your heart took over from your brain, you were filled with a little giddy warmth of realization. He had stayed the night…and he had cuddled you all night. 

Even now, with the rise of the sun and the start of a new day, he was spooning you closely and honestly taking up more than half of your bed as if he had chased you to find your body against his again. It was the most glorious feeling to wake up next to him and you truly wished you could have stayed there forever. He was yours in that moment. That’s how you wanted it to stay. 

You lingered there for a little while longer, drifting in and out of a light sleep,  before you had to get up. Logically, you knew it would make the most sense to wake him up but, selfishly, you didn’t want to. You wanted him to stay as long as possible. So you carefully slid out of his arms in exchange for one of your pillows for him to cuddle and he barely stirred at the change, merely sighing in his sleep and tugging the pillow closer. He looked so pretty in the faint morning light and you couldn’t help but brush a hand through his hair and leave a gentle kiss to his head. 

The illumination of his phone screen from the opposite side of your bed curiously drew you over and you peeked at his notifications, seeing dozens of missed calls and double that of text messages from his girlfriend. You silently flipped his phone face down and then slunk out of the room, grabbing your robe before closing the door almost all the way behind you.

You busied yourself with making breakfast, choosing pancakes with fresh fruit to really treat him for the morning after…and also knowing he was going into a long day ahead with his accidental sleepover from last night going to bite him in the butt when he returned home. Part of you wished you could be a fly on the wall for that anticipated fight but at the same time, you were glad to stay away. 

It must have been the smell of breakfast that finally lured George out of bed and into the kitchen and he came out of your room with a panicked expression on his face as he buckled up his jeans in a half hurry. 

“I fell asleep,” he stated the obvious.

“We both did apparently.” you replied, tending to the fresh batch of pancakes sizzling in the pan on the stove. 

“I’m actually fucked. What am I supposed to tell her?” 

There was obvious stress in his voice and you couldn’t help the slight ache in your heart from seeing where his priorities lay. There you were, making him breakfast after a passionate afternoon and evening the night before and the first thing he could say to you was in concern about his girlfriend. You shouldn’t have suspected any differently…you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. 

The question was more rhetorical than anything and George hurried past the kitchen to the bathroom to freshen up quickly. You swallowed back your tears and turned off the stove, dumping the last of the pancakes onto the serving plate, leaving the rest of the uncooked batter to thicken and be forgotten about on the counter. Just in the way you felt forgotten by him. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was making a beeline for your bedroom again to finish getting dressed, not even sparing you a glance on his way. Every little reminder that you were his second choice no matter the magic that you thought you shared the day before nearly killed you. You stayed in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and trying to ignore the flashbacks from the previous afternoon as you stared at the spot where he had begged you to fuck him, how he promised you through his bliss that you were all that mattered to him. Lust made people say ridiculous things. 

George returned to the kitchen, completely dressed with his ruined shirt in hand, “Can I borrow a shirt to wear home?”

You lingered in place, knowing that if you made any move to talk or even take a step, you might have cried. The stress on George’s face faltered into more of a worry as he stared at your flushed expression and sad eyes. 

He took a step towards you, “Are you okay?”

You took a small breath and then spoke, “I…made you pancakes.”

His expression softened in realization of his own edge that morning and he walked over to you with a sigh, setting his soiled shirt on the island so he could have both hands free to gently take your wrists, “I’m sorry.”

You stared at his bare chest, not wanting to look him in the eye. 

“Hey,” George slid his hands up your arms and gave your biceps a little squeeze, leaning his head down slightly to try and get into your line of vision, “what’s wrong?”

You sniffled and looked to the side, your voice flat, “Nothing. I can wrap up some pancakes for you to eat on the drive home if you want.”

When you tried to slip out of his grasp, he wrapped an arm around your middle to stop you from walking away. 

“Talk to me. What’s got you all upset? Did I do something?” 

His voice was so soft and gentle and it ripped at your heartstrings with each syllable and you scrunched your eyes shut to try and keep yourself composed. George’s hand rubbed tenderly over your arm, staring at you so insistently with this concern in his gaze that you almost believed. 

“You have to go.” you said as strongly as you could muster. “She’s waiting for you. She’s probably pissed off and waiting for you and you don’t want to keep her waiting any longer than she already has been.” 

“I’m not going until I know you’re okay.”

You took a sharp inhale of breath and finally looked at him for a split second before speaking down to his chest again, “I’m not okay…with any of this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “With what? Us?”

“With…you.” you mumbled. “With you and her.” 

George just blinked at you for a moment as if he were completely clueless. You thought he was the stupidest man on Earth to have not realized how madly in love with him you were. 

You continued, “I’m never going to be okay with it but it’s just something I’ve had to suck up and deal with so please can you just take a shirt from my closet and your damn pancakes and leave?”

“I don’t want to leave it like this.” George said seriously. 

“Well I dunno what to tell you.” you said tightly, “I just…don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

George stared at you for a beat and when it was realized that you weren’t going to look at him, he took a small step back with a light nod. He hesitated in front of you but then walked around the island and back to your room to find himself a shirt. It made it feel like it was meant to be only more and more knowing you were the same size in height and general build. You swore he was your other half, especially with everything he would tell you between the sheets…only to return to his girlfriend by the end of the night. 

He emerged from your room again wearing an oversized concert shirt from your closet—one of the few shirts in your closet that wouldn’t look solely like it was a woman’s—and you couldn’t help yourself but eye him longingly. He looked so good in your clothes…in your bed…in your apartment. God, you swore he was meant to be yours. The world was unfair. 

You turned away from him to grab a Ziploc bag from the cupboard and you tossed three pancakes into it and zipped it up. He watched you silently and when you held out the baggie to him across the island, he instead walked around it and took it from your hand right beside you. You didn’t look at him. 

“You mean the world to me.” he whispered to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face so he could see you the best he could. “I don’t want to just not see you again. Can we talk later? And fix this?”

You nodded faintly. 

“Okay.” he leaned in to kiss your cheek. 

With a gentle finger, he rested it against your opposite cheek to try and turn your head towards him. You barely offered him a 45° turn with your eyes still downcast but, regardless, he pressed a feather soft kiss to your lips. 

“Don’t give up on me yet, please?” he spoke softly, resting his forehead against the side of your head, “I need you.” 

You raised a hand up to slide your fingers through his soft hair at the nape of his neck, holding him there for a few more moments before you would let him slip away and into the arms of someone who didn’t deserve him. 

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Good Luck, Babe!- Epilogue (1)

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 9- 10.1k Words- This chapter contains 18+ Smut

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 8

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Plot (with brief reference to homophobic parents) before eventual 18+ Smut, Thigh Riding, Fingering, Oral sex, Soft smut, Insecurities about body image, Reference to poor previous relationships, Aftercare. 

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The sound of a knock at your door drew your attention away from your task at hand, hand pausing with the wooden spoon still in the pot of boiling water, the pasta still swirling around in the water as you halted, eyes flickering over to the clock and brows furrowing at who could possibly be knocking on your door so late. Swiftly, you lowered the heat on the pan before wiping your hands with a cloth, carrying it mindlessly with you to the door to answer, the questions arising in your mind answered as you opened the door, revealing auburn hair that you failed to stop being in awe of.

The warmth that escaped you in your past resurfaced as you made eye contact with the green of Wanda’s eyes, the sight alone of the mesmerising shade wrapping tendrils of love around your heart as you offered her a gentle smile, your eyes instantly taking the hint of apprehension and hesitancy written across her angelic features, gripping your attention as your brows furrowed once more. Wanda shuffled slightly under your enamoured gaze, still not quite used to the sheer amount of emotion you could express with a look before returning your tender expression, the uneasy feeling within her diminishing slightly as she took note of the tea towel in your hand, oblivious to Lucky who was now by your side trying to steal the item.

“Hey,” you softly murmur as you eventually feel the item slipping out of your hand, your gaze only briefly flickering away from the other woman before naturally being drawn back, still unable to stop the longing inside you to appreciate every moment you spent with her. “Is everything ok?” Your tone is laced with concern to match with the look on your face, Wanda’s chest blooming with warmth at your care, her eyes drifting away from you as she contemplated her answer, still trying to adjust to the change in your relationship.

It had only been a couple weeks since the two of you confessed to each other, two weeks since she had finally muttered the words ‘I love you’ and learnt to accept herself, two weeks since she discovered that there was nothing else in the world other than you she wanted as she somehow managed to fall even more in love with you. It was overwhelming, the innate desire within her to be with you, the yearning of the last twelve years almost nothing in comparison to the affection and warmth she’d feel in your presence, her soul desperate for you. The two of you were taking things slow, not wanting to overstep a boundary or rush into anything as you were both mature enough to realise there was more pressing matters in your lives to attend to, Wanda spending most of her time trying to have a civil conversation with Vision about the divorce or with Jennifer to figure out the logistics whilst you had been annoyingly busy with work. The reason and logic however didn’t seem to agree with Wanda’s heart though as she wanted more than rushed moments with you due to life, she wanted to be with you, to feel the comfort you provided but she was still unsure of how to do so, her relationship with Vision making it hard for her to ask for things she wanted. She knew you were different but she was still scared of the rejection she had grown used to.

“Yeah I just- I had a long day and I...” She starts, trailing off as she lifts her gaze to meet yours, hoping her green conveyed what she wanted to say. I’ve missed you.

Just as you always had been able to, you were able to read her like a book, catching the look in her eye and smiling at her comfortingly, stepping to the side and motioning with your head for her to come in as you could tell she just wanted to be with you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want the same, shutting the door behind her and encouraging her to make herself at home as you wandered back to the kitchen to check on the food you were making, checking to see if you had made enough to feed her as well.

The last two weeks had be the same kind of torture for you, your body and mind unable to stop thinking about her, something you were fond of but also a little embarrassed about, feeling as though you were a teenager once again, infatuated with the girl next door and crushing hard. You were hopelessly in love with her and it proved to be harder than you thought not being with her, even if she was only next door. You also longed to spend time with her, to learn about her day, to ease her worries, to reminisce on the past and form new memories together, yet time hadn’t been on your side at the moment but hopefully tonight would be different and the start of something new.

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask in a soft questioning voice, your back to Wanda as she took residence at the kitchen island, perching on a stool and taking in your house once more, never properly appreciating all the little décor that just made it so you. A genuine smile graced her lips at your question, the natural care you showed her making her realise how little she was shown any sort of affection as you looked over your shoulder at her, taking in the sight of her.

“Not yet,” she answers, resting her head against her hand as she gets comfortable, leaning against the countertop and watching the back of you as you moved about, part of her a little excited at the fact that someone else would be cooking her dinner for once, a privilege she wasn’t presented with much. “I just got back from dropping the twins off at my parents,” she explains, a sour tone hinted in her voice making your brow raise, gathering that must have been one of the issues that stressed her out, waiting a moment to see if she wanted to talk about it and get it off her chest.

“I told them everything,” she whispers after a moment, her fingers mindlessly rubbing against her finger, so used to spinning the wedding ring that used to be there when she was anxious, a habit she never seemed to grow out of. Your eyes widened at her words, not wanting to jump to complete conclusions as you turned to face her, your face nothing but reassuring to her as her fingers continued to trace one another. The fact that a simple look from you could ease the storm raging on inside Wanda’s head calmed her, the fact that you were willing to just listen to her, to soothe her making her appreciate you all the more as you patiently stood opposite her, pulling her out of her insecure and doubtful thoughts.

“How did they take it?” You gently ask, checking on the ravioli before pushing yourself away from the stove, slowly making your way over to her till you were stood by her side, fingers brushing back her auburn locks. It felt natural to touch her lovingly, intimately as your hand instinctively moved to cup her jaw, letting her lean into your soothing touch, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand placed itself above yours, revelling in the warmth of your skin.

“They took the divorce better than I expected,” she huffs out, pressing her cheek a little more into your palm as her mind recalls the events of the last few hours, the plan simply being to drop the twins off for a sleepover and inform her parents of the upcoming changes. She remembers vividly the surprise that washed through her at the lack of animosity or irritation from her parents after telling them, the way her mother seemed to share a look of mutual understanding with her before letting her gaze drift to her husband, the sight stirring something uneasy in Wanda before she continued, suddenly building up the courage to confess more, naively thinking she was having a good moment with them.

Your thumb comfortingly brushed against her impossibly soft skin as she spoke, knowing it must have been hard to talk to her family about the situation, knowing that she had always felt such an immense pressure from them. You wished she didn’t try to carry the weight of her world on her shoulders alone, wanting to offer her support when others should have, to let her know that there was nothing ever wrong with her, she wasn’t a failure. She never would be to you.

“They didn’t react so well to you… to us,” Wanda manages out after a moment, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her lips as your face pulls into a look of shock that she had actually told them but also a saddened smile, knowing that it must have been a horrible experience for her.

Wanda had to block out the sudden outburst from her parents as they reacted to her words, the twins playing elsewhere and leaving her vulnerable to the words her father and mother spat at her, the words familiar as they had been thoughts that haunted her mind throughout the entirety of her life. She refused to believe them anymore, the cruel manner in which they were spoken to her still tugging painfully on her heart though, the other woman just wishing her parents could see that she was happy with you. Surely all they should want is her to be happy?

“Pietro said he would talk to them but I just-” She cuts herself off with an exasperated sigh, your lips instinctively pressing to her temple, taking in the brief scent of her sweet shampoo before pulling back, wanting to look her in the eye as you spoke.

“I know,” you murmur in understanding, her form instantly relaxing at not having to try and verbalise her thoughts, her green eyes flickering between your lips and eyes as she savours your touch, fuelling the fire in her heart. “Just so you know, I am so proud of you for everything,” you whisper in an honest and adoring tone, gaze overflowing with so much love it makes Wanda’s breath hitch, the words, the affirmation meaning the world to her as she feels herself finally being cared for. “For admitting it to yourself, for telling them. I know it’s hard but I promise you, I’ll be with you the entire way,” Wanda can’t stop the appreciative smile that tugs at her lips as she peers up at you in a look that can only be described as enamoured, her face turning slightly to press a kiss to your hand before she moves to stand, encouraging you to take a small step back as she lets her body sink into your embrace.

Her arms snake around your waist and as she holds onto you tight, simply needing to be close to you, to bask in your warmth and safety as your words resonate with her, dissipating the doubts that threatened to pick away at her mind as she focussed on you, on the way your hands delicately ran up and down her back, your body gently swaying hers.

“That’s all I could ever want,” she whispers against your shoulder, voice barely audible but loud enough for you to hear as you both relish in the lovers embrace, savouring the feeling of your bodies perfectly slotted against each other like the final piece of a puzzle.

***

A little while later, empty plates fill the sink as yours and Wanda’s laughter echoes around the room, love and warmth bubbling inside you both at the domesticity of the moment as you tidy up after dinner, green eyes trained on you as you move around the kitchen. Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, constantly amazed at how she could feel something so passionate and powerful inside her towards you, her heart fluttering in her chest as you looked over your shoulder at her once more, casual smile tugging at your lips. It was intoxicating, the sheer amount of comfort you provided, her eyes settling on your lips, watching as they moved but not quite taking the words in as Wanda admired the plumpness of them, the way the corner of your lips tugged up at her oblivious state, her mind replaying the many times they had brushed hers.

Only once her gaze eventually drifted higher did she meet the expectant and playful look in your eyes, each swirl glimmering with a teasing glint as her cheeks flushed red, your hands motioning for her to pick between the two bottles of wine you had picked up. Her brow raised at your fine taste as she subconsciously bit down on her lip, trying to decide and unknowingly setting your body alight at the action, your gaze mirroring her earlier one and zoning in on her lips, memories of them ghosting yours cruelly filling your mind as heat settled within you. God she was beautiful, her auburn locks perfectly framing her face, eyes filled with concentration as she analysed the two bottles, her teeth pressing against her lower lip subtly, it was too much. You craved to feel her lips pressing against yours, to thread your fingers through her hair but you knew better than to rush anything, wanting to take it at her pace.

Instead of walking up to her and kissing her with all the emotions swirling inside you, you poured her a glass of wine as she requested, encouraging her to go into the living room and make herself comfortable whilst you brought them in, moving to sit next to her on the sofa. Wanda seemed to appreciate the action as she naturally moved closer to you, your fingers brushing as you handed her the glass, the delicate touch enough to send sparks throughout you both as your gazes meet, conveying more than words ever could.

Part of you didn’t want to break the longing look as you took in every shade of green but you decided to at the sudden tension building in the room as Wanda let her gaze drift to your lips again, her eyes darkening a little in desire and making it hard for you to keep your composure. You focussed on putting on an old sitcom you knew she loved to distract yourself, your eyes scanning the screen of the Tv to find the show whilst also noticing her in the corner of your eyes, her gaze still firmly locked on you as she sipped from her wine, seemingly contemplating something in her mind.

“You’re staring again,” you murmur in a gentle tease, turning your head slightly to meet her flustered expression at having been caught again, mirth evident in your features as her cheeks tinted pink, one of her fingers tracing the rim of the glass as she held it with the other, slender digits wrapping around the item.

“Admiring,” she corrects, “I was admiring you,” her teasing smile a sign of her amusement as she leans back against the sofa, keeping her gaze on you before briefly looking over at the Tv as to what you were doing. “I didn’t think you’d remember,” she whispers almost in a confession and slightly confused tone at the fact you had memorised her favourite show, her heart skipping a beat at the fact you had paid so much attention to her that even after years, you still knew the subtle things she enjoyed.

“It would be hard to forget as it was the only thing you ever talked about,” you taunted, recalling the many nights where she’d simply tell you the plot of her favourite episodes as you enjoyed hearing her rave on about the show, the enthusiasm and passion adorable to you as you would watch her with a loving look, wanting to hear her talk forever.

“It wasn’t the only thing,” she mumbled back in response, taking another sip of her wine as your smile grew, your body moving momentarily to place your glass down on the table and out of the way.

“Oh yeah?” Your tone is full of humour as you turn your body slightly to face her better, taking in the way her brow raises at your challenging tone, “What else did you talk about?”

“How insufferable you were,” she teases back, a glimmer of triumph clear in her eyes as you simply chuckle back in response, the sound blessing her ears as she had missed this, the playful conversations you would share, teasing one another until the other would break, most likely kissing the other to shut them up. “You were pretty annoying,” she whispers light-heartedly, the teasing expression on her face faltering at the way your hand naturally moves to her thigh, squeezing softly as you laugh with her, eyes meeting hers with an entertained look.

“You secretly loved it,” you murmur back, unaware at how the two of you had both leaned in slightly, Wanda however realising and moving to lean back so she could also place her glass down, wanting to move them out of the way as warmth settled deep within the pit of her stomach. The feeling of your fingers against her thigh sent a shiver down her spine, a sudden heat and desire consuming her as she licked her lips subconsciously to wet them, tasting the remnants of the wine on them as her gaze met yours, noticing how your pupils dilated as you looked at her.

“I did,” she whispers and neither of you seem to be able to stop the way you both gravitated towards one another, both of your gazes drifting lower.

Wanda wanted you, she needed you, she needed to feel wanted, to feel desired and be looked at in that loving way. Her heart longed to feel appreciated, to feel as though she was the most important thing in the world, to feel cared for, to lose herself in something, in you. Her body longed to feel your touch, to feel your hands caress her cheeks, her hips, her inner thighs as all she could remember was the ghost of your touch, haunting her in all the right and wrong ways. She needed to replace the feeling of larger hands that were only selfish, she wanted to be touched in a way that screamed I loved you, a touch that you were only ever able to satisfy her with.

“Wanda,” you sighed out as you noticed the distance between you close, an intimate atmosphere wrapping around the two of you as you leaned in, waiting to let years of passion consume you both. You craved her in a way that you didn’t think was possible, you were addicted to her, to her lips, to the sinful yet sweet sounds that’d spill from her, the taste of her as she would come undone in your mouth. She was like a drug, one you had been deprived of for too long and desperate for, trying to hold on to the last part of your restraint before you’d relapse into the desire you had for her.

“Y/n,” she whispers out and the sound of your name falling so gracefully from her lips set your entire body ablaze, your hand reaching up to her cheek, cupping it gently as your lips ghosted one another in a tantalising manner, not quite brushing just yet. It was teasing for both of you, waiting for the other to make the first move, not wanting to rush anything yet but your bodies had their demands, desire getting the better of you both as you had waited long enough. You needed each other.

“If we kiss, I… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” you confess, your mouths so close Wanda can feel your lips move as you murmur to her, her heart beating wildly in her chest as anticipation gets the better of her, her hand moving to your hair, slowly threading her fingers in an making you flutter your eyes shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Who said I’d want to stop?” Wanda sighs out after what feels like an eternity when it was realistically seconds, the words enough to break your restraint as you tilt your head to crash your lips to hers, the world around you fading away.

The two of you both moaned into the kiss at the sheer intensity of it, the love and passion that your lips moved with against one another as you stole each other's breath away, both literally and figuratively as you refused to part your lips from hers. It was relentless, the way fervent lips moulded against one another, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair as your fingers moved to cup her jaw, splaying against her burning skin as you pulled her face back to yours, feeling as though the world would end if you stopped touching each other.

Wanda moaned softly into your mouth when you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue against hers in a lewd yet sensual manner as you explored each others mouths, your free hand moving to her waist, caressing the skin in that intoxicating manner she adored, a sigh spilling from her lips in between heated kisses. Her body moved on its own as she manoeuvred to straddle you, the desire and craving inside her overpowering her as she settles on your lap, the action dragging out a deep groan from you as her thighs squeeze around your body, her back arching her chest further into yours.

“Fuck,” the word leaves you breathlessly as the two of you briefly part, your mind fogged with arousal as you take in the sight of her straddling you, her lips kiss swollen and hair a little ruffled, her green overflowing with want as she panted above you, scanning your features. You watched her curiously as she took in your equally dishevelled state, the passion of the moment dwindling slightly into a softer and slower tone, the urgency and desire still prevalent in all your touches though as her hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her lowering mouth.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her other hand move to your shoulder, drifting down over your collarbone and back up in a soft manner, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's savoured the moment enough, Wanda kisses you. She kisses you in a manner that shows she's been starved of your lips forever; it's hot, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you wanted it to be. You can't do anything but melt into her touch, hand clutching at her waist to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her. You wanted to worship her, to show her all the love in the world, to show her how your heart only beats for her. She was all you ever needed.

A soft moan leaves you at the intensity of the kiss, heat immediately taking over your body, her touch burning into your skin as arousal pools between your legs at the feeling of her lips moving against yours, a sensual sigh escaping her as you pull back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green. Your lips peck hers in between laboured breaths, her hands moving to your shoulders, gliding them down your back and earning another sinful noise out of you, your lips tugging into a smirk as her breath hitches at the feeling of your hands at the bottom of her shirt, cold fingertips brushing the bare skin of her stomach. However, the action doesn’t quite yet the reaction you hoped it would as she tenses above you, pulling back from the kiss and worrying you, scared you had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” you pant out, still breathless and dazed at the intense amount of arousal that clouds your mind, concern evident in your features and touch as your hands move to her thighs, softly brushing over the fabric of her jeans as she avoids your gaze momentarily. “We don’t have to-” you start, wanting to express to her that there was never any pressure between you, but she cuts you off, her gaze finally meeting yours.

Your brows furrowed at the look of insecurity in her eyes, your face softening as you let her speak, her fingers mindlessly playing with the loose strands at the back of your neck, eyes drifting over your features as she airs her worries.

“I want to,” she quickly reassures, leaving her green on your lips to emphasise her point before she looks into your eyes, basking in the safety your longing look offers her. “I just… I need you to know that I’m not the same as I was,” she whispers, anxiety and nervousness lacing her words as she lifts her hands to motion towards her body, avoiding your gaze once more as her mind casts back to the few comments Vision had made about her body post giving birth to the twins, the words sticking with her. She didn’t feel as though she was beautiful anymore and she didn’t want you to be disappointed.

Upon seeing her shaky hands and hearing her words, you sit up straighter to look into her timid green, fingers naturally moving to interlock with hers, encouraging her to look at you as your eyes fill with nothing but love, needing her to hear you.

“Wanda,” you murmur when she still doesn't meet your gaze, the insecurities gnawing away at her mind until your finger gently tips her chin up, her green instantly meeting yours and dissipating the worry. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” you confess, holding the intimate gaze and expressing the honesty in your words, the overwhelming amount of care in your voice stirring something deep inside her as she feels her emotions wracking through her, your words healing wounds she never realised cut so deep. “I love everything about you,” you murmur as you lean forwards, noticing how the worry slowly drains from her face, your noses brushing as you tease her with your lips, wanting her to hear you. “Your smile, your laughter, your heart. I love everything because they are a part of you. I love your body, even after all these years, because I know the amazing things it has done, the things you have done,” your words are laced with a delicate and loving tone as your fingers stay interlocked with hers, your hand squeezing hers as you peck her lips, smiling into the brief kiss as you feel her let out a relieved sigh, her body pushing hers closer to you as she kisses you again, wanting to drown herself in your love. “I also love that it’s still so sensitive to my touch,” you add in a gentle tease to ease the atmosphere, earning a soft chuckle from her as she kisses you with a little more purpose this time, the heat that had settled between her thighs making its presence known again.

“I’ve missed your touch,” she murmurs into a kiss, widening the smile on your lips as your hands move to her waist, caressing her soft curves as she grows more comfortable and confident, her hips slowly grinding down against you, sparks of pleasure filtering through her.

“Yeah?” you sigh out a little coyly into another slow and sensual kiss, your teeth biting down on her lower lip gently and dragging it down before releasing it, letting your tongue soothe over the dull pain you caused, relishing in the groan that escapes her.

“I’ve missed feeling so… so wanted,” she sighs out, letting you kiss along her jaw, peppering it in hot open-mouthed kisses as you trail her sharp jawline, dipping lower to her neck and kissing along her throat, teeth teasingly scraping over the searing skin.

“I’ll always want you, Wanda,” you whisper back without any hesitation, pressing a lewd kiss to the juncture of her neck, knowing she was sensitive there before pulling away from the skin before you’d start to cover it in marks, not sure how she’d feel about them. “I never want you to forget what you mean to me,” you husk out as your mouth ghosts her ear, hands guiding her hips with more purpose in your lap, her breath hitching in a sinful manner when her hips roll at just the right angle against you, a bolt of arousal shooting through her. “I want to worship you,” your tone makes Wanda moan at the sheer desire lacing your words, the way your teeth gently nibble on her ear lobe adding to the arousal coursing through her, her body drunk on your touch, on you.

“Please,” she practically whimpers out and fuck you’ve missed the sound of her begging you, a groan leaving your lips as you move your mouth back to hers, crashing your lips together. The love and care underlies the kiss but you both once again are taken over by lust, your actions fuelling one another as your hands drift to her hips, slowing her hips against your lap whilst her fingers tangle in your locks, tugging your head closer and never wanting to part from you until you motion for the two of you to move.

The journey to your room was a blur, hands roaming each other's bodies until the back of Wanda’s knees hit the bed, her body gently falling back against the mattress, her hair splaying across the sheets. You’re quick to climb over her body, pressing her further into the mattress, your lips moulding to hers as you claim her lips over and over again, only pulling back to admire the woman beneath you as your knee slots between her legs, earning a sinful sound. Your gaze is nothing but awestruck as you look down at her angelic form, Wanda shying a little at how in love you seemed, her hands grabbing the fabric of your shirt and pulling you back down to her, needing to feel you do something, anything to her at this point.

You take the hint and press your lips back to hers for a bruising kiss, your hand moving from the back of her thigh up her body, reaching the hem of your shirt and pausing, wanting permission this time as your eyes search hers, asking the silent question. Only when she nods confidently do you continue, your fingers sliding under the fabric and feeling the smooth and soft skin of her stomach, a sigh leaving her at the feeling of your fingers against her bare skin, the touch no longer just a memory.

“Y/n,” Wanda moans out as your hands trace over her ribcage, exploring the skin you longed to feel again, a hum leaving your lips as you refuse to part, your fingers pausing at the fabric of her bra, hands sliding out from under her shirt.

“Is this ok?” You whisper as your fingers wrap around the hem of her shirt, your intentions clear as she mutters a quick ‘yes’ in response before you swiftly remove the item from her, your gaze remaining on hers, catching the brief anxious glint again. You soothe her worries with loving and passionate kiss, your hands copying the actions you previously did but ghosting over her bra, teasing her in a torturous manner as her back arches to chase your touch, your name falling from her lips in a desperate plea, the sound going straight to your head and core.

Once your lips part, you pull slightly to take in the sight of her, your mouth parting at the sheer beauty of her, her body sculpted by the gods, her soft curves enticing, your fingers brushing lovingly over the marks you knew she was anxious about, the touch filled with awe and adoration. Your hands then slide up her body and around to her back, unclasping her bra after another nod of approval and eagerly taking the item off her, a sudden nostalgic feeling bubbling inside you as you remember the first time you spent together, the awkwardness as you both fumbled to undress, simply wanting to lose yourselves to the lustful moment.

“Fuck,” Wanda sighs out and its sinful when your hands gently cup her breasts, her body sensitive to your touch as her hips start to grind against your leg, begging for more friction to ease the incessant throb between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers as your lips press against her jaw, letting her breathe for a moment as your fingers brush over her nipples, dragging out sensual sighs from her as you toy with her body, pressing your knee further against her and feeling her hips buck up hard against you, a broken moan being ripped from the back of her throat.

“Please what?” You rasp out in a tease, “You have to tell me what you want, love.” The term of endearment only adds to the arousal flooding through Wanda as the dominant tone to your voice goes straight to her core, her hips grinding against your thigh at a steady pace, pleasure swiftly building at the pit of her stomach whilst her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails grasping at the fabric of your shirt, wanting to pull it off.

“You, I want you,” she sighs out, pulling the shirt over your head and moaning into the kiss at the feeling of your bare bodies pressed against one another, one of her hands sliding up into your hair whilst the other scratches down your back, earning a pleased groan from you. “I need you,” she adds in a desperate tone, her voice and hips wavering, signalling to you how close she was as her hips rolled and rocked against you, the fabric of her jeans brushing perfectly against her clit.

“You have me,” you tease, one of your hands moving to her ass, guiding her against your leg and deliberately slowing her pace down, her frantic rhythm pushing her closer to her release. “Use my thigh first, love, then I’ll give you what you want,” your tone lowers an octave as you murmur to her, a moan leaving her at your words and the promise behind them, her mind running wild with fantasies as the memory of your fingers buried deep inside her and your tongue fucking her fills her mind.

“Shit, I’m so close,” Wanda sighs out, her head lolling back against the mattress, her neck exposed for you to kiss down, to mark as you suck a faint bruise at the base of her neck where she could easily hide, the action earning a desperate whine and encouraging the action.

“That’s it, good girl,” you praise as her nails dig into your back, her hips grinding relentlessly against you as she chases her high, the praise making her hips buck hard against you, a broken noise escaping her.

“Say it again, please say it again,” she pants out, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to crash through her, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair as she softly tugs you away from her collar bone, needing to feel your tongue sliding against hers.

“My good girl,” you husk out against her lips, a pitiful whine escaping her as she feels the coil at the pit of her stomach about to snap, her eyes fluttering open to ask you the silent question. Warmth and arousal instantly floods through you at the begging look in her green, the sheer amount of desperation and submission evident in her gaze enough to make you give in, your lips brushing hers as you mutter the words, “Come for me Wanda.”

With a final roll of her hips, Wanda’s body tensed against yours, a string of moans being muffled by your incessant mouth while pleasure consumed her entirely, her hands holding you close. Your hands slowed her movements against your thigh, letting her buck against you as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm, body melting against yours as she panted for breath.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened her eyes in response to the soft praise you whispered, a blissed smile creeping onto her lips as your foreheads pressed against each other, her hips gradually coming to a stop against you as you kissed her one last time before starting to move down her body, ready to worship her as you promised.

“You’re so…” you trail off as your lips pepper hot open-mouthed kisses along her collar bones, hands drifting down her sides, caressing her beautiful curves and massaging her soft skin, feeling the way her body twitched at your touch in anticipation, her breath hitching when your mouth ghosted over one of her sensitive nipples.

“So?” She pants out, brushing back your hair so she could meet your seductive gaze as you took her nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive bud in a manner that drove her crazy, dragging moans out of her freely.

“Perfect. Beautiful. Mesmerising,” you punctate each word with a kiss down her body after you lavished her chest with kisses, your lips burning into her skin at each intoxicating touch, your words causing a deep blush to cover her cheeks and even the top of her chest, your lips tugging up into an amused smile at the reaction. “You’re everything to me,” you whisper against her stomach, pressing lingering kisses against the stretch marks that littered her skin from when she was pregnant with the twins, showing her your appreciation for her beauty and how the marks didn’t disgust you. You loved each and every single one as they told part of her story, your lips and hands brushing over the tender skin as your face practically nuzzled against her, worshipping her.

When your lips met the waistband of her jeans, you cast your eyes up her body, a moan escaping you at the sight of her flushed face staring down at you, your compliments flustering her and clouding her mind with want as she stared down at you settling between her thighs, her nails scratching at your scalp softly.

“Please,” she whispered with an overwhelming amount of want, your lips pressing a teasing kiss to the waistband of her jeans before moving to take the item off her, purposely taking your time. Your fingers move slowly and deliberately as you hold her intense gaze, languidly unfastening them before slowly unzipping them, watching in amusement as you see her chest start to rise and fall with ragged breaths, the teasing torturing her. “Detka, please,” she begs again and the use of her native tongue almost makes you cave, almost, an affected sigh escaping you at how her accent beautifully laced her words.

“Be patient,” you murmur back, her hips lifting to help you slide the fabric down her long, slender legs, leaving her just in her panties, a visible wet spot there for you to admire. “I’ll give you what you want soon,” you promise, merely earning a whine from her as she knew you intended on dragging this out, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “So needy,” you tease as your fingers brush over her clit through the soaked fabric, her hips immediately twitching at the teasing action, her hand in your hair tightening once more, pleading with you to hurry up.

“You’ve waited twelve years for this, can’t you wait a little longer,” you amusingly murmur as you kiss her hip bone, smiling against her skin as you hear her groan in frustration, her free hand gripping the sheets to help control herself.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” she mutters back, earning a chuckle from you as your fingers drag over the wet fabric, slowly circling her clit in a way that’d only drive her insane with desire, her mouth parting to let a low moan spill from her lips. “Please… Please just fuck me,” she begs and all you can do is curse against her skin as you kiss her inner thigh, your hand spreading her legs out for you, eyes hazy with desire.

You give in partially to her, unable to take the teasing yourself as you press a sinful kiss against her clit through her panties, her body trembling already at your touch as the action pulls out a desperate whine from her, the noise turning into a pleased moan when you start to pull the wet fabric off of her. A gasp leaves her lip at the feeling of her core meeting the cold air in the room, your fingers inching closer towards where she desperately needed you, your eyes drinking in the sight of her dripping for you, arousal glistening in the gentle light from the room.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you whisper as you kiss around her core, not giving her the satisfaction of your mouth just yet, the frustrated moan breaking into a relieved sigh at the feeling of your finger finally meeting her core. You move your finger through the abundance of arousal that’s pooled between her thighs, sliding your finger to her clit and slowly circling it to begin with, your mouth addicted to her soft skin as you mark her inner thighs, wanting her to remember everything from tonight, to see them tomorrow and think back to the sight of you between her thighs, her hands buried in your hair, keeping you as close as possible.

As you touch grows more confident and firmer, moans spilling from her lips, her hips start to roll against your hand, your free hand reaching up to interlock with her fingers at the sheets, letting her grasp onto you instead as you slide your finger down to her entrance, teasingly thrusting it in before sliding it out, coaxing her to chase your finger with her hips as she bucks against you, Wanda able to feel you smirking against her skin.

“Please stop teasing,” she pleas at the feeling of your fingers still teasing her entrance, too busy savouring the sight of her body completely melting at your touch. “I can’t take it anymore,” she whimpers, your composure cracking at her tone, your eyes taking in the sight of her sharp jawline on display as her head lolled back, an idea entering your mind.

“Look at me Wanda,” your tone is dominant but also desperate, the sound making the woman beneath you realise how turned on you were, a shaky breath escaping her. When her green eyes finally find the courage to look down at you, her breath hitches at the hungry yet soft look in your eyes, a moan of your name spilling from her lips as you keep your gaze on her whilst finally sinking your finger into her. “That’s it, keep your pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, I want you to watch,” you husk out as she watches in awe at the way you thrust your finger into her, the room filling with the wet sounds of your finger pumping into her and her sinful sighs.

“Please Detka, fuck,” she groans when you slide your finger back in slowly and add another, purposely taking your time with her as you intended to drive her mad with your touch, her eyes staying trained on your enamoured gaze as you curl your digits inside her, Wanda’s mouth parting at the feeling. “Shit, just like that, please do that again,” she practically begged as you thrust your finger back in, hitting her sweet spot perfectly while heat floods through you at the sound of her desperate voice, pleasure sparking through her and coursing through her veins.

“Do you need more, love?” You mumble against her skin as your mouth hovers over her intoxicating core, wanting to hear how desperate she is for you, your fingers persisting with your deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within her as her hips gently rock against your hand, pleasure building at the pit of her stomach and making her clench desperately around you.

“Please,” is all she moans back in response, your resolve crumbling, unable to resist her anymore as your mouth licks a stripe up her core, moans escaping you both at the feeling.

Your wet and warm mouth sparks pleasure and delirium within her, her hips bucking up against you as you nuzzle your face closer, desperate to get a better taste of her heavenly arousal on your tongue, intending to show her exactly how much you love her.

The sound of her lewd moans and the taste of her on your tongue makes you lightheaded with the thought of her, addicted and constantly craving more of her as your tongue swipes through her folds, pleasure flooding through her body as you thrust your fingers into her faster, forgoing with anymore teasing as you couldn’t handle it anymore, never mind her.

“Fuck you taste so good,” you moan into her core, almost forgetting the sweet yet salty taste of her as your lips wrap around her clit, sucking gently whilst you peer up into her lust-filled green, her mouth parting in euphoria as pleasure buzzed through her, hips rocking to meet your hungry mouth.

Her fingers tightened once again in your hair, nails scratching your scalp to create a dull pain whilst you part your interlocked fingers to wrap your hand around her thigh, pulling her impossibly closer and spreading her legs a little more as you get lost within her, tongue swirling over her clit before wrapping around it, sucking firmly as you focussed on every little reaction she offered you. You longed to forever remember the desperate moan that was ripped from the back of her throat at the way your fingers curled and mouth sucked on her at the same time, the hitch of her breath as your tongue swirled around her clit, the way her body twitched as pleasure took over her, swiftly pushing her towards her release. You needed to remember it all.

Her hips soon started to roll against your mouth, coating your chin in her slick as your tongue lapped at her clit, alternating between sucking firmly and swirling your tongue around her, sinful sounds spilling from her lips as her body started to tremble in your grasp, her moans growing louder when you curl them at just the right spot once again.

“Detka, I- Please,” are the only words that she can manage as one of her hands shoot down to grip the sheet beneath her, knuckles bleeding white whilst her other one persists in keeping your head between her thighs, needing you to push her over the edge. “Please don’t stop,” she groans as you curl both of your fingers against her sweet spot, her vision almost blurring at the overwhelming feeling of love and pleasure coursing through her body, your body desperate to watch her fall apart at your touch. “I’m going to come-” Wanda manages in a broken moan, an equally desperate noise escaping you, the vibrations making her buck against your fingers, a whimper leaving her when her enticing green meets your soft and dominant gaze, giving her permission to fall over the edge.

“Come for me,” you murmur against her, keeping your eyes on hers as you watch them roll to the back of her head momentarily, her head lolling back and showing off her defined jawline as her hips stutter against your face, body tensing. A guttural moan escapes her at the amount of pleasure that floods through her, her fingers almost tearing through the sheet as she lifts it to her mouth, trying to muffle the small scream of your name as her release crashes through her, ecstasy and euphoria merging into one.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her inner thighs as she attempts to recover, your fingers tracing random patterns against her skin as you wait for her to look back down at you, your eyes admiring her, in awe of her beauty as she lays beneath you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Soft pants spill from her lips as she moves her fingers in your hair, her hand tugging your head away from her sensitive core, her hips still gently rolling against your hand as she rides out the last waves of her intense high, her body soon slumping against the sheets after you slide your fingers out, a sudden emptiness filling her. Your lips climb back up her body, ensuring every inch of her body was showered in affection whilst you whispered more praise before you met her lips, only brushing them briefly and intimately before you pulled back, offering her one of your digits covered in her cum and arousal.

A low groan escaped you when she obediently and willingly parted her lips for you to slide the digit in, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure and submission at the action as her tongue swirled around your finger, your mind recalling the way her tongue felt on your core, only adding to the heat that still bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Only once she had cleaned your finger did you copy the action with your other one, keeping your gaze on her as you licked her cum off your finger, offering her a teasing smile as her cheeks flushed at the action, eyes darkening in desire again as she pulled your down against her body, kissing you passionately and moaning softly at the taste of herself on your tongue.

Your body moves to lay next to her when the kiss slowly dwindles, your breaths ragged as you fall onto your back, Wanda’s heart dropping momentarily as she fears you were going to leave, to simply roll over and go to sleep like he did after they’d be together, but the worry is swiftly eased when she feels your arm wrap around her body, encouraging her to lay into your side, her face moving to the crook of your neck. You expected her to simply sink into your embrace, to let her exhaustion take over her but you were pleasantly surprised by the feeling of her hand moving to your bare chest, the tip of her nail dragging down between the valley of your breasts and lower, her lips pressing an innocent kiss to your neck, a satisfied hum leaving her at the soft and desperate sigh that left you.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper softly, the want in your voice still lingering as her hand teasingly brushes over your body, her lips kissing up along the side of your neck as you tilt your head to the side, letting her place teasing kisses against your burning skin and engraving the feeling of them into your mind. You can feel her smile against your skin at the care in your words, not wanting her to feel pressured into giving you anything back, her lips eventually meeting the shell of your ear as her hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, fingers deftly unfastening them.

“I want to,” she rasps out at the shell of your ear, her low tone and the way her accent seeps into her words making you let out a shaky breath, your hands swiftly moving down your body to help her rid you of the last of your clothes, her hand quickly returning to your hip. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Wanda whispers into your ear, her touch the opposite of your teasing one as her fingers waste no time in sliding through your folds, needing to touch you, to please you, a gasp leaving you at the feeling of her nimble fingers effortlessly sliding through your slick, covered in your arousal. “I’ve wanted to love you like you were mine,” she continues, her thigh moving to rest over yours, keeping your legs spread and hips still as you try to grind up against her fingers, your jaw clenched slightly as you try to muffle the already desperate sounds that threaten to spill from you at the feeling of your bare skin pressed together.

“All yours,” you managed back, your body overwhelmed by pleasure and arousal as she circles your clit a few more times before dipping her finger lower, effortlessly sinking into you and earning a small groan.

“Mine,” she mutters as she kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth as you stifle another moan, a little embarrassed at how quickly the pleasure built in the pit of your stomach, her fingers curling beautifully inside you, her palm brushing over your clit. “I want to hear you, don’t hide,” she murmurs, desperate to hear the effect she had on you, her body longing to feel you spasming around her fingers, to hear you moaning her name freely.

“Shit, Wanda,” you instantly sigh out, trying to buck your hips up but her thigh keeping you down, one of your hands gripping the sheets by your side whilst your other shoots down to her thigh, gripping onto her as her fingers slide in and out of you lewdly. “You feel so good, I- God, you're such a good girl,” you rasp out, the praise making her groan against your skin as she kisses your cheek, encouraging you to tilt your face and meet her lips, her fingers relentless as they curl at the perfect spot, bolts of pleasure sparking through you. You simply pant into her mouth as she thrusts her fingers into you a little faster, her fingers hitting your sweet spot at a different angle and having you moan abruptly into her mouth, your body teetering on the edge.

At the way you clench desperately around her, your mouth struggling to kiss her back, Wanda can tell that your close, her lips swallowing every sound she could as you sighed and moaned against her, her lips ghosting yours as she felt your hips grinding as best they could against her hand, her palm perfectly rubbing against your clit.

“Are you close?” She whispers in a slight tease, already knowing the answer as you simply nod in response, your eyes squeezed shut as you focussed on the euphoria and delirium of her touch, Wanda’s gaze memorising every reaction you offered her. “Please come for me,” Wanda mutters in a soft tone, a desperate tone and it’s enough to make the coil inside you snap, your nails digging into her thigh as your body crashes into its release, the pleasure and intimacy of the moment blurring your vision as you ride out your intense high. You clench desperately around her fingers, walls spasming around her as you rut against her hand, your forehead resting against hers whilst you pant, experiencing the last of your release before you melt against the sheets, relaxation and euphoria coursing through you at the feeling of your bodies sinking into one another.

Her lips pepper soft and loving kisses against your face as you smile at her, fluttering your eyes open to search the green eyes you’d fallen so hard for, conveying all your love for her in the gentle and lingering stare. You lift your hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her gaze soften as she savours your caring and affection touch, her heart fluttering in her chest at every tender action.

Wanda hated how, despite the moment being perfect, she still had a gnawing doubt in the back of her mind that you were going to leave her alone as she had grown used to being left to clean and tend to herself, her body simply craving your comfort after such an intimate moment. The worry seemed to express itself subtly within her gaze, your eyes noticing the small glint of fear in her expressive green and silently asking her to explain what was bothering her, the back of your fingers brushing her cheek in a soothing manner.

“Please don’t leave,” is all she whispers, her voice wavering with emotion as your features soften at her tone, your mind grasping a vague idea at the unfair treatment she had received and motivating you to take even more care of her, simply wanting to give her the world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur with conviction, reassuring her as your hand moves to her free one, lifting it to your lips to kiss before you interlock your fingers, knowing she liked to play with your hand when she felt nervous or simply wanted to be calmed down. “But we need to go to the bathroom to clean up,” you whisper after you feel as though she’s savoured the moment enough, catching the way her body seemed to be relaxing a little too much as sleep threatened to overtake her, her body melting at the warmth and love your presence provided her.

Begrudgingly, Wanda took your hand as you coaxed her out of your bed, your hands snaking around her waist naturally as you guided her to your ensuite to clean the two of you up, gently using a cloth to wipe her down whilst pressing loving kisses to her forehead, showering her with love as you noticed the blush and smile that crept onto her lips at being cared for. You simply gave her everything she had craved for years, the praise, the gentle murmurs, your hands treating her with nothing but tenderness as they caressed her body and tended to her. You also made sure the two of you drank enough water before leaving the bathroom, offering her one of your sleep shirts to which she declined, softly murmuring how she wanted to sleep with you naked, yearning for the intimacy of the cuddles of your bare skin pressed so comfortably against hers.

Your lips pulled up into a smile at her delicate and adorable tone as you indulged in her wants, eventually getting back into bed with her and pulling her impossibly closer to you, your limbs getting tangled under the duvet as she snuggled further against you, sighing against your skin. Her hands slid around your waist, fingers mindlessly tracing random patterns against your back as your fingers threaded through her auburn locks, gently scratching her scalp and smiling at the pleased groan that left her at the relaxing sensation, her body shuffling closer to you.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the two of you, her breath tickling your skin as she nuzzled closer to the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body as she placed another delicate kiss to your skin, trying to express the overwhelming emotions she had for you. It was impossible for her to describe, the world around her fading away when she was with you, the wounds inside her healing when she felt your loving touch or lingering stare, her heart longing to remember this moment forever as the love swirling inside her was undeniable and all consuming, cementing the fact that this was where she belonged. She belonged with you.

“I love you too,” you murmur with as much care as you could muster, your lips pressing to the top of her hair as you melt into the embrace, your heart wrapped in love and joy as you savoured the moment with her, finally living a moment you had dreamed of for so many years. “I’ll be here when you wake up, go to sleep love,” you coo as you can feel her body fighting the tiredness that washed over her, a drowsy noise escaping her which only filled your chest with more warmth, a tenderness wrapping around the two.

Soon enough, the two of you drifted off to a peaceful sleep, your silent embrace conveying more than words could ever describe as you sank further into one another, reflecting the endless love you shared as your souls reconnected, finding a sense of safety in each other's arms and finally feeling as though you had found your home.  

---

I absolutely spoiled you guys with this🤭

 As heavily requested, I'll be writing both epilogue smut scenes and I hope you enjoyed the first one! You better have paced yourselves with this as I have no idea when the next one will be written, so savour these 10k words pls😭 

Also in case anyone is an Arcane fan, I have briefly started a Caitvi oneshot collection if you want to check it out on Ao3! <3 

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes/kudos <3 I really appreciate all of your support!

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[betty-fran]

A couple of thoughts on Spock and McCoy's relationship (and, probably, about K/S too).

It becomes more apparent in season three, though it's actually an ongoing trend, that McCoy often worries about Spock more than about Kirk when they're both in danger. Not because he worries about Kirk any less, but because he worries about Spock differently. In S3EP10 "Plato's Stepchildren," the most psychologically difficult episode that N and I watched the other day, this is well-read in the moment of bullying that Parmen arranges when he tries to convince McCoy to stay. Kirk, of course, orders McCoy not to accept Parmen's offer under any circumstances:

KIRK: McCoy. No matter what he makes me say or do, the answer's no. MCCOY: No, Parmen! Stop it!

And as hard as it is, McCoy holds himself back because he respects him as a captain first and foremost. He worries about Kirk, of course he does, it's natural for him, it's a habit developed over the years and close friendship, but he trusts his decisions:

(Kirk rolls in agony.) PARMEN: Well, Doctor? MCCOY: I have my orders.

But when it comes to Spock, it's more complicated. He has an awareness of the limits of Kirk's endurance (and again, he has to see him as a captain first and trust him in that), and the way he worries about Kirk is objectively logical. But his worry about Spock is more of an emotional response. He noticeably distrusts Spock's ability to recognize his own limits, especially emotionally, often referring to his emotional repression. He worries about Spock in a way that Spock himself is incapable of worrying about (or at least incapable of doing so fully), about what Spock constantly neglects - his psychological state:

(Spock is forced to dance close to Kirk's head. Flamenco-style, I think, ending with a boot directly over Kirk's face. Then Spock is allowed to rest, and he starts to laugh heartily. He crawls over to Alexander, who cannot help but join in.) MCCOY: He's a Vulcan. You can't force emotion out of him. PHILANA: You must be joking, Doctor. MCCOY: You'll destroy him. PARMEN: We can't let him die laughing, can we? (Now Spock cries.) MCCOY: I beg you.

McCoy definitely cares about him. All those scenes where he suddenly and seemingly for no reason starts lecturing Spock about his inability to feel feelings and accept his own emotions are usually the very moments when Spock actually feel feelings but trying to repress it, which makes me think that McCoy is telling him all these things at those moments not because he's an insensitive bastard, but because he's just very aware of what's going on with Spock emotionally.

Unlike Kirk, who is actually very similar to Spock in his perception of the world and his way of thinking, McCoy and Spock are really radically different people. He doesn't understand Spock as fully or as deeply as Kirk does, but he can understand Spock's emotional state (and he can be straightforward with him about it). Where Kirk accepts Spock unconditionally and completely for who he is (with Spock's inability to feel in a normal human way, this complexity of his world, this internal struggle), preserving that right for Spock to be exactly that, because again, Kirk doesn't want him to be anything other than who he is, even if it means he can't be with him the way he wants to (which brings us back to the similarity between Kirk and the Companion from Metamorphosis), McCoy doesn't need to do this. He doesn't buy into all that Spock "too complicated to feel simple feelings" nonsense, and he doesn't hold back on his choice of words when it comes to talking about it. McCoy perceives Spock through the lens of his own human perception, seeking in him what he can understand and explain through emotion. And while this is not real acceptance, it's also not an attempt to change him. In fact, it's this emotional vision of McCoy, his pressure on Spock's emotions, that quite often turns out to be true, because Spock obviously still has a human side.

When we observe the dynamic between the three of them, we realize that Kirk's feelings about Spock are obviously different from his feelings about McCoy, who is apparently his closest friend in TOS (which makes me as a viewer wonder if this was done consciously, considering that K and S relationship was really positioned as special and unique, even without any romantic reading). And McCoy undoubtedly understands how indispensable, unique, viscerally important Spock is to Kirk. He, more than once, when faced with a choice between danger for himself and Spock, tries to take the hit, realizing that losing Spock would be harder for Kirk. The whole dynamic of McCoy and Spock's relationship reminds me of a situation where your best friend falls in love (so completely and irrevocably), and trying to understand why he did it and what he found in this other person, you start to look at them, and in the process of this exploration, you unexpectedly get used to them, find your comfort in their company, and (just a little, of course) you start to understand why your friend fell in love so much. This person becomes dear to you, and you start to worry about them no less than you do about your friend, and maybe even more, because you understand that this person is vital to your friend's happiness, the most important in the whole world to him. So, in the end, McCoy now has to take care of two idiots instead of one, which hardly makes his life easy.

Therefore, the well-being of these two is personally important to him. He often reacts angrily to the actions of either of them when it could hurt the other, and more than once acts as a "voice of reason", reminding (not always gently) of this super-importance between the two of them. To a certain extent, it is Kirk, their shared concern and responsibility for him, that really holds McCoy and Spock together, and I think that if Kirk had died, this delicate attachment that exists between them would have collapsed under the weight of grief, although in the opposite situation McCoy and Kirk's friendship and Kirk and Spock's closeness would have survived. But in all this, McCoy really, genuinely worries about Spock. Unable to fully understand and accept his complexity, he simultaneously sympathizes with him and tries to help in any way he can. And he's also important to Spock, not just as Kirk's closest friend, someone who's emotionally important to him, but, actually, as his own friend too. Their relationship is more fragile and complex than a simple friendship, and often exists despite contradictions, but what unites them outweighs the rest, bringing some balance.

[cloudinthesky444]

At this point, it’s clear that Sauron is in love with Galadriel, and he knows it’s not one-sided. In the show, the feelings and interactions between the protagonists (specifically Sauron and Galadriel) are portrayed metaphorically, and it’s obvious that the directors do this on purpose to avoid angering the lorebros who seem to get upset at the idea of shipping Sauron and Galadriel and call the show an insult to Tolkien 😱😱

But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. When you watch the show and see the interactions between Sauron and Galadriel, you find yourself wondering, in the midst of all this chaos, why it seems to work so well and yet always ends up falling apart. If it’s not Sauron who ruins it, then it’s Galadriel. You know what I mean? The answer is that they attract and repel each other, and if there weren’t so many feelings and suppressed anger involved—stemming not just from past events in their lives (like Galadriel’s grief over her brother’s death or Adar’s betrayal of Sauron, which we know truly hurt him)—these past emotions mixed with their current ones create a brutal phenomenon of confusion. On one hand, Sauron doesn’t understand why Galadriel constantly rejects him. He says things like, “I see you; I know what you desire,” because he does know—but he doesn’t get why, despite their similarities, Galadriel keeps pushing him away. In the show, this is framed as a logical decision, with Galadriel rejecting him because Sauron sees her as a mere tool. And yes, in part, that’s true, but it’s also not the whole story. For me, the Sauron in the show and his desire to “use” Galadriel comes from the same trust and companionship I explained in a previous post. Sauron’s thought process about Galadriel is: “Nothing is free. You used me to achieve your redemption, so why can’t I use you now?” This extremist mindset, combined with his attachment and devotion to Galadriel, ends up manifesting in a VERY toxic way. And yes, maybe Sauron manipulates Galadriel and always feels the need to do so, but unlike his other victims, he shows a “human” side with her. Most of the times he acts passive or even affectionate in Season 2, it’s because he wants something. He can’t help but associate his surroundings with Galadriel and with people in general—he doesn’t like being touched, and when he does it voluntarily, you can tell how fake it is and that he’s only doing it because it’s the most convenient moment. This behavior, in my interpretation, breaks with Galadriel. With her, he lets his guard down, which we see in the fight scene where Galadriel attacks him, and he looks genuinely surprised (I even made a meme of that scene, LOL).

Then he tells her, “My desire is not to harm you,” and he’s right—he doesn’t want to hurt Galadriel. He dodges her blows for a long time, and that’s not like him. He’s usually ruthless and enjoys killing his victims when they least expect it 💩🙏🏼

Anyway, he dodged Galadriel’s strikes and turned a deaf ear until she brought up a topic she should’ve never touched: Sauron’s feelings. And well, that wasn’t a good idea, because her rejection drove the man back into satanism 💀

In the end, something they both share is self-deception. This self-deception is very persistent in Sauron and opportunistically manifests in Galadriel. But unlike him, she eventually accepts the consequences of her decisions, while Sauron doesn’t care at all.This same self-deception is what’s leading young Galadriel to ruin. Her inability to acknowledge the feelings and desires she once had for Halbrand surfaced when she realized he was Sauron, mixing with past emotions and events (her brother’s death and her hatred for Sauron). These two things combined altered Galadriel’s mental state, leaving her just as affected as Sauron and, as a result, expressing her hatred by trying to impale him with a sword. The reason for this? She no longer saw Halbrand in him. To her, he was now a completely different person in both body and soul. That’s why she doesn’t hesitate to attack him.

This shocks Sauron because he believes she still sees him the same way, but she doesn’t. He’s like, “Why did you do that, bestie? It’s me!!” This stops briefly when she sees an image of Halbrand. She immediately calms down, lowers her sword, and becomes passive—but then realizes the truth and attacks him again.

And well, you know, it’s sad.

The two are so similar, but they can’t understand each other when they face off. It’s terrible when two people deceive themselves—it always ends in destruction. Maybe in another reality, things could have been different, but I doubt it. They met at difficult times in their lives, which later manifested in pain and suffering, causing them frustration and confusion. But I believe this is simply part of destiny, and everything happens for a reason. This whole confrontation only serves to forge the Sauron and Galadriel we see in the future. By the time this is over, I’ll be devastated.