#who attempted on their own life twice as a result

[hammerbonk]

My friend took me down the rabbit hole that is the Nijisanji shitshow. Actual literal black company if I’ve ever seen one

[huginsmemory]

On ad astra per aspera ✨

Can we talk about the repeated use of ad astra per aspera? Cause uhhhh it shows up twice, once on the website and once in the Book of Bill, and OH BOY this has connotations, both for Bill and Ford's relation in the literal and figurative meaning on the word, and for Bill's own history:

(extra addition added 16/09/2024! 🌝 )

First, in the website (if I recall correctly) if the phrase ad astra per aspera is inputted into the computer, you get the two pages on Bill's 'funeral':

And within, in the pages, at the very end before signing there names is the phrase itself (highlighted in red) .

Secondly, a joke version of it is seen in the Book Of Bill, specifically on the night where Bill and Ford fucked 'one thing led to another':

In this one, it's clearly a joke off of aspirin used for his hangover, used again to close the entry.

Now the phrase ad astra per aspera itself means 'through suffering to the stars', which also has... wider connotations then just these two piece alone, which I'll unpack later. But first, the interesting choice of connection of these two pieces;

Both times the phrases occur, they occur closing the entry; a bit too much of a coincidence to me (and in this fandom there is no such thing as a coincidence). Considering that the 'one thing led to another' night is a night that was important to their relationship as it hints at the intimacy they had with each other, it showing up again in Ford's 'funeral' entry about Bill feels very much like an allusion to that night. Especially considering in the funeral entry Ford is very open about how much he cared about Bill, with how he at one point "considered him the centre of his life". The entry from Ford reads as someone who is moving on, and part of this is acknowledgement of the grief and sadness for the more positive part of the abusive relationship that he lost. As a result, having him acknowledge the intimacy of their relationship, it makes sense for him to tongue in cheek allude back to his first writing down of the phrase, where they were quite clearly implied to fuck be intimate.

While it alludes to their Bill and Ford's intimacy, the literal and metaphorical meaning of the phrase also rings true here; through suffering to the stars. If we talk literally, then through Ford's relationship with Bill, something that ultimately was full of suffering, he built the portal, and ended up wandering the myriad worlds out there in space; one may say out there among the stars. He literally was out there wandering the stars as a result of suffering.

Now metaphorically, the phrase means through suffering/adversity one gains beautiful/worthwhile things. Considering this entry is Ford moving on from Bill, this is very apt; again, their relationship caused Ford immense suffering, and as he is now letting that relationship and suffering go, he's instead prioritizing creating healthy relationships with Stanley, the other twins and Fiddleford (the something beautiful and worthwhile part!). In fact, the entry on Bill's funeral is half on him strengthening his relationship with Mabel, the shooting star, another layer of wordplay; case in point about the healthy relationships. He's weathered through his abusive relationship, to discover and create a loving family.

It doesn't quite end there however; although that's fairly it for specifically Ford and Bill's relationship, we also haven't talked about what the stars mean to Bill himself. Which, well; it's very clearly implied that Bill accidentally killed everyone in his dimension in an attempt to show his parents (and other people in his dimension) the stars. And on top of that, to quote; "I looked up and saw the stars. And I was ready to become one of them". Which he then in a way, becomes, considering the page in journal 3 on constellations, in which Ford remarks that one of his favourite constellations is the constellation 'William' (obviously Bill). It's a bittersweet immortalization of himself after everything that occurs around trying to see the stars for Bill.

So I find it very interesting that for Ford, a phrase about suffering and stars is something he ends up correlating to his relationship with Bill, considering that to Bill, to get to the stars is something he deeply suffered for as a result. It's also important to note that Bill's suffering was something that occurred out of love, and ultimately an attempt to be understood and create a deeper relationship with his parents where they could trust him. And then for Ford, all this while later, to look up to the stars (to see them) and to see the Bill constellation and go 'oh that's one of my favourites' is fulfillment. Because Ford during that time trusted and cared deeply for Bill, fulfilling that relationship of trust, love and understanding(at least surface level, considering the way they banter together), that Bill had yearned for when he was younger and killed his plane.

So all in all(tldr): ad aspera per astra, (through suffering the stars), is quite the fun phrase to unpack in regards to Bill and Ford's relationship, considering the deliberate reference to the phrase on the entry about the night 'where one thing led to another' and Bill's funeral entry. The phrase is a combination of references; tongue in cheek allusion to the intimacy, but also references to the literal (space fugitive) and figurative (abusive relationship, to loving family again pipeline) hardships Ford endured as a result of the relationship. There is also irony in the way that Ford seems to correlate this phrase about suffering and stars with Bill and his relationship, considering that out of an effort to be understood and share the stars with his parents, Bill accidentally killed his whole dimension; later he also made a constellation of himself. As well, as Ford says that one of his favourite constellations is a constellation that's clearly Bill in Journal 3, it alludes to that Bill's wish to show his parents the stars and be recognized is fulfilled by Ford (pre-portal incident that is).

EDIT: extra details added on the constellation piece as of Aug 14 2024 (less than 24 hours after og posting, because I'm deranged). Big thanks to @bowl-o-nudel for the nudge :)

Edit (16/09/2024): I've had a few people say that the saying has appeared in Journal 3 multiple times, and having reread journal 3, to my delight it is indeed correct! And oh the CONTEXT they give. The two instances are those seem below; the first appearance in the title page of Journal 3, and second time is a page from when the twins graduate.

As well as all the parallels of how the phrase is applied for both Bill and Ford, as @zoizyboigy suggested, it seems to be a phrase that Ford takes as his own motto. It seems to be a highly personal motto to him; after all, they all are written around important turning moments in Ford's life; graduating, the journals which where to be his ticket to fame, fucking a triangle finding acceptance and intimacy with Bill , and lastly, moving on in his life from Bill and his destructive obsession with recognition. 

And it makes sense WHY this motto is one that is highly personal to Ford; the first time it is seen chronologically is when he's graduating, chosen when he believes he's going to be accepted into the university. It's a motto he chose because he was excited, because he thought he was already through his suffering and arriving to the stars of his fancy university, where validation and acceptance would abound; only that doesn't happen, and the suffering part within the motto is the only thing that's accurate, especially as that's when he rejects Stan. It's a motto chosen in celebration, that becomes a reminder of the failure to become someone who is accepted and important (and his prioritization of validation over relationships); it's now something he holds that reminds him of the validation he believes he deserves and he obsessively chases. 

And that's why you see it in the journal pages, because these journals are going to change his life, he's going to become finally a person of importance and be accepted with the information he's compiled in the journals. And in the same way, you see it after Bill (and interdimensional being of ancient knowledge) and him are intimate; he's become someone of importance to Bill, he's been accepted by Bill, even attractive to Bill (romance Ford seems to have terrible luck in).

And that's why you see it at the end of Ford's farewell to Bill; it's another turning point, it's Ford letting his obsession with world validation go which characterized it's meaning from the beginning, Ford letting go of his relationship with Bill, which it also came to mean, and instead celebrates his acceptance within his family and the strengthening of those bonds, and of prioritizing healthy, loving relationships.

Ps, if you enjoyed this meta post, I've also made another one, on exceptionalism!

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP×DC prompt. Pre-Dead on main. Soulmate Au.

Do clones have soulmates? And evil (depressed) future versions of yourself? Only phamily is allowed to know.

~~~~

Jason wasn’t particularly thrilled to have a soulmate. Of course, it was a rare phenomenon many wanted. But the presence of the tattoo did not guarantee a meeting with the fate promised man. The tattoo was more a clue than a commitment, according to Jason. Meeting a street rat like him would be a good way to form a brotherhood, but that doesn’t mean he could trust a stranger completely just because fate says so.

After he became Robin, owning a soulmate became undesirable. Jason once again made sure that it was best that they never meet. It would be safer for his human. Or rather, so Jason thought, until his inscription suddenly darkened and disappeared. Died. His solmate died, and there was nothing he could do. He knew it could happen, but somehow it hurt anyway. One person has only one soulmate for life. And he wasted his chance by not even trying to find his one.

He didn’t even have time to meet someone for whom fate has chosen this line:

Hoc est vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.

(It is to live twice, when you can enjoy recalling your former life)

And Now it didn’t matter. Would they be lovers, best friends, family? What kind of person was the one whom the universe associated with this quote?Jason is not meant to know.

~~~~~~

Todd was suffering from nightmares. No, to be more specific, he was experiencing a completely different life in a dream. A few days earlier, he had hallucinations in which his surroundings seemed to change the appearance of different eras for a few seconds. Strange glitch. Jason blamed the sleep deprivation that Red Robin must have given him through bite. But Robin didn’t know who the hell Red Robin was.

The search for a biological mother, death and resurrection. His work as a crime lord. His madness and envy to the red robin. It was so strange. Life in Gotham never allowed him to be a naive child like the idiots of Metropolis but those dream memories made him grow up to fast again. In an attempt to wash away this nightmare and this blood, Jason stands under a cold shower at five o'clock in the morning. And then he notices that his mark has changed. It looks like a tree crown now.

On top of the old grey line a neon-green quotes lit up in latin, but now Jason can read them without a dictionary:

1)Death pursues the man even as he flees from it.

2) Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.

3) There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

When B tries to pat him on the shoulder after the patrol, Robin dodges. Too much has happened, or rather, too much should happen. These dreams are too real to be the result of fear toxin damage or something else. The feeling of betrayal and fear that comes when he just thinks about the damn clown is too intense. And now he's too weak to fight him. He doesn't have his gang or a more mature body, or even the confidence in Batman that allowed Robin to fly without a doubt.

~~~~~

~You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart~

If you were loved by a man when he was alive, then the love of a ghost will be for you either a blessing or a curse. And if the spirit is not at rest because of his hatred for man, then there is no special sense to put up with the dead. They can hardly change their attitude. They don’t think critically. Maddie and Jack expound this theory on career day for Danny’s classmates. And they don’t understand why their boy looks at the presentation with horror.

Danny was fond of the quote on his wrist. It gave him hope many times even in the darkest of times.

~Fortis est ut mors dilectio / Love is strong as death~

Danny never listened to his parents' theories before. But what if they’re right? What if the ghosts of nature are just good liars and his ghost half convinced his human half that he’s still capable of emotion? Were these just residual memories of affection about family and friends that forced him to stay in Amity Park? Was it just his ghost obsession that told him a man behind his mark was important?

For the first time, when Jazz summons all the Phantoms to a weekly meeting, Danny does not seek excuses, but brings the matter up for a discussion.

Truly, it's no surprise to him that Dan’s tattoo is invariable. But it’s a bit of a surprise that Dani shares special human with them. Well, as ghosts, they have zero chance of actually spending their "lives" with the person behind words, so there’s no reason to be jealous of each other.

A lot of soulmates live their lives without each other, and it's not a tragedy. Or so Danny and Dani thought. Until Dan sarcastically notes during a family therapy session in Jazz’s room that their soulmate will not live to be fifteen either.

Their feelings or their absence will wait. Their soul mate is now in real danger, and this is far more important than the existential crisis of a few pieces of ectoplasm. This is the main problem. Jazz doesn’t agree, but honestly, the older sister has always been a bore. Danny panics and Dani also bursts into tears when Dan just shrugs his shoulders.

Danny: So you know who is our soulmate is, right? Dan: Of course I do. And I know the grave won’t hold him forever. Dani: So how is he..going to die? Dan: Murdered. By the Joker. I studied the case. Asked Vlad to still it for me. That was the beginning of the end, I think. So many broken bones and so much blood, and then the explosion. Not the best way to die. The only thing I regret is that I didn't stop playing the hero and kill that damn clown before it happened. It would solve so many problems. And why didn't I throw a temper tantrum a couple of days earlier instead of trying to get rid of my emotions first?

Danny: True. That shit didn't work anyway. Dan: Shut up. Dani: I was hoping that our soulmate would be happy even without us. Does this really have to happen? Isn't there anything we can do? Dan: Ask your time freak. But in my experience, anything connected to Phantom just doesn’t get a happy ending.

~~~~~~They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing~~~~~~

Jazz is not surprised when after breakfast with her siblings she's asked to leave so they can talk to themselves alone. Dan: Well, shoot. What else do you want to know? Danny: Like you didn’t figure it out. All right. When you asked Vlad to separate your human half from ghost half, whether you really wanted to get rid of human emotions or.. Dan: Or did I try to kill myself? You are me. You must know the answer. Nobody's left. Could you live with the shame of not being able to save them? Dani: Um, that vile monster who made all this happen with out soulmate, it was still exist in your timeline? Dan: Yes. And Batman too. Even after Jason's death he didn’t get rid of the damn clown.

Danny: You were supposed to be there for him. Dan: I know. Dani: Did you at least avenge him? Dan: I tried. But his paranoid furry dad, with his backup plans for backup plans, was always getting in my way. Dani: Batman? Our soulmate is Robin? Danny: Come on, you terrorized the entire Amity Park, don’t tell me you’re scared of a man in a bat suit. You couldn't get rid of one person under bat's nose? Seriously? We're such a disgrace, man. Dan: Oh please, don’t be ridiculous. Danny: So why not? Dan: Because Batman is his father, like I said. You know how I work. Even if I had only come for Joker, there would be no guarantee that I wouldn't end up getting into a fight with this vigilante as well. Even if the bastard deserved a good beating, it would still be awkward if our soulmate returned to the world of the living and it turned out that this was not what he wanted, right? Danny: How thOughTfuL.

Dan:...I think I told you to shut up.

Danny: Yeah, yeah. So, what’s the plan? Dan: You do realize that if I go to Gotham, I won’t spare Joker or anyone who will try to hurt our bird? Danny: Well, if Сlockwork has a problem with it he should say it to my face. I’m not asking you to hold back. Not this time. Joker is not just a random guy or a ghost who can be talked out of his ideas. Better nip the problem in the bud. Dani: Yeah. We are ghost, so it's our nature to protect what belongs to us. And we are selfish because we are humans. We can’t hide it, well, from ourself, right? Danny: Um, right, but we think you should stay. It's too dangerous. Dani: But he's my soulmate too! Even if he doesn't get to know either of us, I also want to do something to help him. Someone has to serve as a distraction or be ready to help. I'm coming too. It's not up for discussion.

Dan: Just let her. She's just as stubborn as we are. We'll spend more time on pointless arguments than on the mission itself.

Danny: I hate it when you're right.

Dani: Now, should we tell Jazz about our weekend or? Danny: Good question.

~~~~~~ Jazz: Where are you guys going? Danny: To commit murder. Nothing brings families together faster, you know? Want to come with us? Jazz: Haha, very funny. Take me a burger on the way home. Dani: Okay. Dan: Oh, she's gonna kill us.

[smuttysabina]

Lessons on Impregnation with Jihyo

(Jihyo x Idols x Fans, 4.6k words) Tags: Breeding, Fat Juicy Creampies, Some Lesbian Action, Even More Breeding, Pseudo-Science Regarding Idol Breeding, Preggo Jihyo, Mass Fucking, Blowjobs, Tittyfucking, Anal, Some Bizarre Sexual Techniques, I Dont Think Enough of These Girls are on Birth Control

Idle chatter fills the air, rebounding off the walls until the room is a cacophony of noise. Idols from three generations of Kpop cram themselves into the space before the podium, occupying a plethora of clashing furniture scrounged up from throughout the building to seat them all. All of the girls eager to hear what the host of the main event would have to say; the woman who had been a pioneer in idol breeding for years, Jihyo. It had long been an ill-kept secret that idols often had... difficulties when attempting to conceive children, many had even used this to their advantage when leading highly hedonistic lifestyles. But when the time came to settle down, problems would ensue, that would often only be solved with the passing of time. Until of course, that great matriarch Jihyo made her breakthrough and had gotten enormously pregnant; while still an active idol no less! And now she is hosting a class, open to any idols who would be interested in learning her secrets; and the resulting audience is nearly bursting through doors in their enthusiasm. Almost all of the 4th Gen girl groups are in attendance, with a smattering of 3rd Gen girls as well. Of course, those too young for the... hands-on training portion had been discretely shunted into a separate break room filled with snacks and games; though they had been given a bland, if rather informative, printout detailing sexual matters. Jihyo was a keen proponent of forthright sexual education.

Jihyo beams as she enters through a door behind the podium, surveying the packed crowd with maternal pride; so many had shown up! Nayeon hurries over to update Jihyo, idly rubbing at her stomach that was already starting to swell up with the first signs of pregnancy. Jihyo touches her own bloated belly in sympathy, she was so proud to see Twice starting to follow in her footsteps and embrace motherhood! The other members were spread throughout the audience, and what an audience it was! The voracious sluts of Itzy lounge next to the preening, spoiled brats of Ive; the languid free-use members of Le Sserafim reclining near the perverse whores of Everglow. The entirety of Loona is in attendance, looking exhausted from the fans' fanatical lovemaking. The shy newcomers of New Jeans mixing freely with NMIXX and a rather haggard looking Kep1er; all of them keeping in a tight pack with other young groups as they warily observe their seniors. Aespa relax nearby, recently returned from their scandalous stay at some rich fop's mansion; the girls seemed to be in good spirits, so evidently they had not been subjected to anything too depraved. The outspoken femdomists of G-Idle prattle happily with Mamamoo, who eye the other group with something a bit more than casual interest... Jihyo's dear friend Lisa had even deigned to show up, though that sex goddess was unlikely to be impregnated any time soon. Dozens of other groups occupy the throng, from the new and lascivious ladies from Kiss of Life, to the more mature seductresses of Dreamcatcher; even the soloists had joined their brethren. All gathered together to learn how exactly they would be able to fill their bellies with a child (and enjoy some pants-down learning).

After a soft cough into the microphone, Jihyo gently, but firmly shushes the assembled audience until the din has quieted to a more tolerable level. Now that she has their mostly undivided attention, she calmly begins her presentation after introducing herself; and giving a little background information about her crusade for motherhood. Then Jihyo gets into the meat of the matter; due to the rigors of their training, idols commonly have a decline in fertility due to an increased difficulty in sperm penetration in female subjects. Male subjects' sperm suffers accordingly as well, allowing them to freely creampie hundreds of squealing fangirls without the worry of dealing with dozens of alimony requests. Mutters of agreement arise from the crowd, many of them had friends from the 2nd and 3rd generations who still dealt with such issues. But, through meticulous testing, Jihyo had discovered a solution to the problem; at least for the ladies. A video of her Impregnation Event flickers to life on the screen behind Jihyo, as she smoothly narrates the experiment; as well as the obvious results of her findings. The audience murmurs as they watch the recording of Jihyo getting mounted by scores, and then hundreds of adoring fans; until her sex is literally gushing with turgid semen. Jihyo joyously declares that quantity was the solution, they simply required a much greater volume of sperm to weaken the egg's shell enough for impregnation to occur!

The audience breaks out in excited chattering as they take in this news, their reactions running the gamut of emotions, from happiness to confusion to disgust to anger. Once the din has died down enough, Lisa lazily raises her arm to indicate that she has a question. Jihyo nods at her friend in permission, and Lisa smoothly rises to her feet.

"If quantity was all that matters, then why am I not pregnant? Why is Jennie or Yeji or Hwasa or any other of the more," she licks her lips, "needy girls not pumping out babies like mad? All of us fuck like rabbits, and we aren't pregnant; so how does this help? Do we just need to fuck ten thousand guys and hope that there will be enough jizz pumped into us to knock us up for once?"

Jihyo nods enthusiastically at her friend's complaint as the crowd mutters, explaining that while being bred by uncountable fans does have its appeal, there are other factors to consider as well. The quality of the load was as important as its amount, there was no point in forcing out watery loads devoid of sperm! The idols' lovers had to be milked thoroughly, lovingly pleasured until their ejaculations were so thick with sperm that they were like yogurt! Of course, such love-making could be... difficult to undertake, so Jihyo had devised an expansive breeding lesson to teach the girls how best to undertake such activities. Lisa cocks her head at Jihyo's response, a playful smile upon her lips; and Jihyo knows that while the nymphomaniac is not entirely convinced, she will assent to her plan. After waiting for a few moments, to see if anyone else had any questions, Jihyo takes a breath to announce the next portion of her seminar when she notices a thin arm shyly wiggling from the herd of newer girls. She squints to figure out who exactly the limb belongs to (the girls are cuddled up in an almost indistinguishable puddle), before she finally recognizes its owner and encourages her to speak.

Trembling slightly, the nubile Danielle of New Jeans hesitantly asks, "But what if... they um- love you a lot and... their c-cum is special?" The older girls in the audience sigh at such a romantic notion, some of them eyeing the floor sorrowfully as they remember past failures. Jihyo though responds with the utmost kindness, gently informing Danielle that while in some cases people may be more... compatible, it was rare, and should not be relied upon. Judging by the girl's expression, she still had confidence in finding her one true love, but Jihyo was not cruel enough to destroy her hopes. After all, love was such a enjoyable state to be in...

Clapping her hands to dispel the sudden heavy mood, Jihyo cheerfully announces that the next, and most exciting, portion of her presentation was about to begin. Pressing a button on her lectern, evenly spaced holes at waist-height in the wall begin to hiss open; the hubbub of eager conversation emanating from the space behind them. The younger idols stare at the portals with benign curiosity, while their more experienced peers are already biting their lips in recognition. Cocks, of all shapes and sizes, rigidly hard and shyly flaccid, are shoved through the holes; eliciting a chorus of squeals and laughter from the assembled idols. Jihyo happily starts directing the groups towards their designated testing areas, informing them all that members of Twice would rotate through to teach them the best methods of breeding. The...material provided was pre-sorted so that only the groups' most fervent fans would be the ones unloading their sticky love for their idols. Jihyo gives the girls some time to settle in and relax, the more inexperienced ones may never have used glory holes before! She feels herself dripping slightly at the thought of such beautiful idols all getting impregnated together... pregnancy truly does rev a woman's sex drive.

Jihyo prowls for a time, slowly making a circuit through the rim of the room, greeting each group as she strolls past them; enjoying the sight of their lovemaking. Through her unhurried observation, she is able to pick out the most notable members who required her direct attentions; some issues were too complex for the rest of Twice to handle. But first of course, Jihyo stops to visit her voracious darlings, her beloved Itzy; who are naturally making an absolute mess of their fans. Yeji viciously draining cock after cock, Lia warbling about perversions as she gets fucked, Ryujin panting in heat as she watches the others, Yuna squealing with sickening love as she falls for every new fan, and dear Chaeryeong quietly enjoying herself to the side. Jihyo knows just the trick to settle her rambunctious girls! Chaery receives naught but a loving kiss, Yuna is adroitly handcuffed to the wall to reduce her frenzied attentions, Ryujin is given a thorough spanking for being so naughty (she squirts multiple times from this), Lia is soothed to allow her fans more regular thrusts inside of her, and Yeji... Yeji gets her cunt fisted until her burning lusts are somewhat slaked; she really must be more considerate towards her lovers if she wants to milk out a load potent enough to inseminate her! Leaving her favorites suitably adjusted, Jihyo merrily continues her journey, confident that Itzy would be practicing their imminent impregnations more carefully now.

Next along her route is Loona, reunited once more in carnal activity, their section of wall a cacophony of fierce fucking. Jihyo notes with pride their positioning and techniques, all of them instinctively moving their bodies to milk the largest loads possible out of their fans. The girls do appear exhausted however, each of them flushed and whining from the forcefulness of their fans' love; even by idol standards they were taking a solid pounding. Jihyo pauses, intrigued, crouching by Yves's quivering waist as her latest lover pulls out of her clogged pussy. She samples what little seed leaks out of the girl, roiling it in her mouth as she tests its potency; her eyebrows raising in bemusement. Judging by the impeccable quality of the cum getting pumped inside of Loona, Jihyo is surprised that the twelve of them have not been popping out babies for years now. So she puts Haseul to a purring interrogation, and between jerky gasps is informed that Loona had been on birth control for years; and that even then many of them had gotten pregnant anyways and had been forced to give birth in secret... Jihyo pats Loona's leader sympathetically, hopefully with the changes in public opinion all of Loona would be getting knocked up soon, and be telling their fans of the joyous rewards of all their hard work! Haseul's response to this stirring encouragement is hard to judge, as she gets creampied while Jihyo is in the middle of speaking. She drools as the semen is forced into her womb, clutching at Jihyo as her ovulating pussy is swamped once more with Orbit jizz. Jihyo sighs with pleasure at the sight, lovingly hugging the girl's head against her breasts; it's obvious that somebody's birth control is also simply not up to the task...

After the delightful experience of watching Haseul getting knocked up, Jihyo is greeted with the altogether less enjoyable view of Everglow in action. Of the six, only Mia seems to be properly fucking her fans; Onda and Yiren appear utterly indifferent to their fans' affections, while Aisha and Sihyeon are having great difficulty in coaxing their lovers to orgasm, meanwhile E:U is apparently being used as a urinal. Choosing to ignore the perverted disaster that is Everglow's former leader, Jihyo instead decides to focus on the two pillow princesses first. Her fingers skillfully tease and touch Onda and Yiren, slowly building up the lust within them before more directly stroking at their pussies. Jihyo soon has the pair gasping and moaning, eagerly impaling themselves on their fans' cocks as they greedily pleasure themselves. Licking her fingers clean, Jihyo nods in satisfaction before turning her attentions to the other two standouts; she blissfully chooses to ignore the fact that Mia is now currently pissing on E:U while getting fucked. She frowns as she inspects Aisha and Sihyeon, noting the loose grip their holes have on their lover's shafts. Upon deeper inspection, wrist-deep, that is, Jihyo comes to the unfortunate conclusion that both of the girls' pussies were utterly blown out from overuse; drastic measures were required. After giving the two some detailed instructions on tightening exercises to perform, Jihyo quickly moves on to more extreme techniques. She teaches the two perverts (a touch unfair in Sihyeon's case) the bizarre art of womb-fucking; which Aisha takes to with sultry gusto, and Sihyeon with desperate energy. Satisfied that the pair were now milking their fans' cocks more swiftly, Jihyo calmly steps over the blubbering form of E:U as she lays quivering in a puddle of filth. With an ex-leader like her, it was no wonder Everglow has such... odd sexual interests.

The youthful sluts from Kiss of Life are a refreshing palette cleanser for Jihyo after the depravity of Everglow. While they might not have as much on-cock experience, their enthusiasm for sex nearly makes up for their lack. The four of them loudly and messily make love to the cocks sticking out of the wall, oftentimes stopping to suck them clean after they've emptied themselves inside of the girls' pussies. Jihyo beams to see such passion, and happily squats to join the girls on their knees; sharing a still-dripping cock with Natty as they lick her juices off of it. Then a fresh member is pushed through the hole, and Jihyo eagerly prepares it for her junior with her mouth, slurping on it until it is twitching desperately for release. She indulgently guides it inside of a moaning Natty, and is overjoyed to see its balls begin to pulsate almost immediately. She is getting ready to move on when Julie endearingly offers Jihyo a turn or two at her own gloryhole, surely she could take a little break... Jihyo is swayed by the adoring looks the idols of Kiss of Life give her, how could she possibly let them down? So she fucks seven cocks in quick succession, her slick and experienced pussy draining them with confident ease; while the girls look on in awe and suckle lovingly upon Jihyo's swaying breasts. She sighs with pleasure as each fresh spurt of semen fills her, slowly rubbing her clit as she takes some time to relax and enjoy herself. Giving the girls an appreciative fingering, which leaves the four of them shuddering from explosive orgasms, Jihyo kisses the Kiss of Life a cheerful goodbye as she moves on to the next section.

The haughty chaebols of Ive await Jihyo there, selfishly pleasuring themselves with their fans' sore and ignored cocks. They bitchily ignore the needs of their fans, fucking them until they grow bored and whimsically demand they switch out for a different partner; oftentimes they don't even bother making them cum. Rae even refuses to allow fans inside of her pussy, using her ass to drain them instead; while the stuck-up Wonyoung rebuffs any attempts to ejaculate in or on her at all! This, of course, could not be tolerated, and Jihyo moves quickly to set these spoiled brats straight. But when she cheerfully announces to the five princesses (Leeseo having been directed to the break room) that their first lesson would be servicing their poor fans with their mouths, outrage ensues. Sniffing with disgust, Ive arrogantly declare their opposition, refusing to demean themselves by tasting their lowly play-toys. Jihyo merely smiles, such unruly girls they are; they could use some discipline! By the time she is finished, the five idols are rubbing their bruised butts, whining piteously at the rough treatment they had received; they had never been spanked like that before! Suitably chastened, the girls get on their knees and duly begin to suck off their fans, unenthusiastically pleasuring them with snobbish reluctance. Jihyo rolls her eyes at their petty defiance, and squats beside Ive to... help them along. She jackhammers Liz's head against the dick she is sucking, forcing Liz to be throat-fucked until semen splatters out of her nose. Jihyo then moves along to the rest of them, who quickly get the message and put some more effort into their blowjobs. She claps her hands, instructing them to keep sucking even after they've drained their first cocks; while forbidding them from pleasuring themselves until they had finished off a score of fans each! The arrogant chaebols complain as they are forced to put some effort into their lovemaking for once, their over-indulged pussies dripping needily as they go untouched. Ive soon find some glimmers of interest in their fans' pleasure, as they desperately try to milk them as swiftly as possible so they can resume satisfying their own lusts. Jihyo beams as the idols finish their assignment, all of them now looking hungrily at the fresh cocks sprouting from their gloryholes. She tells the girls that they were now allowed to have sex, but that they must make sure to allow their lovers to finish inside of them! Ive immediately throw themselves upon the dicks with abandon, eagerly impaling their greedy cunts upon their fans' cocks and fucking them. Their slick holes are soon awash with sticky semen, though Wonyoung is quick to complain about how disgusting it feels to have cum inside of her. Jihyo sighs, one step at a time... she assigns Chaeyoung to watch over the little princesses; a brat to deal with the brats.

The next group Jihyo passes by hardly needs any help at all, Dreamcatcher are quite experienced in milking fat loads out of their fans. Sultry Siyeon massaging their balls while she fucks them, earnest Jiu making sure that not a single drop is wasted, slutty Yoohyeon grinding her perky cheeks against them in a frenzy, smirking Handong playfully teasing them until they explode inside of her, lustful Sua performing all sorts of acrobatics to find the best angle to drain them, mischievous Gahyeon purring as she bounces so ardently her weighty breasts clap together, and cruel Dami tormenting them until they have no choice but to empty themselves. Jihyo's advice therefore is mostly technical, some slight adjustments to positioning, some small improvements to movements, the exact tightness used while their fans' are cumming. The initially dominant Dami is like a puppy with Jihyo however, and is quite eager to worship such a beautiful goddess... Jihyo happily allows her to, groaning as Dami devours her soggy pussy, her tongue scooping out the loads deposited inside of Jihyo when she frolicked with Kiss of Life. After several extremely messy orgasms, a somewhat breathless Jihyo moves on to more needy girls; though not before joining Gahyeon to double tittyfuck some lucky fans, none of them lasted more than a minute with their cocks squished between the two idols' voluptuous breasts!

Jihyo strolls in a more distant manner now, her fellow group mates of Twice having done a splendid job teaching the more capable groups the art of breeding. Momo had whipped the lazy sluts of Le SSerafim into shape, turning the ordinarily placid girls into salacious whores bent only on seeing who could get the most cum pumped inside of them. Sana had been dispatched to keep the rampant lesbians of Mamamoo in line, and though the group seemed to spend most of their time fisting one another, there were at least some creampies occurring. And gentle Nayeon had done a wonderful job helping out the younger groups, though the perverted bunny still did go into heat whenever she smelled an unmilked virgin dick. Jihyo hums as she passes by a plethora of lovely idol girls, all of them having steamy raw sex with their adoring fans; she wondered how many of them would end up getting impregnated today... Then she passes by Purple Kiss, and Jihyo spots her current favorite engaging in rapturous sex. Swan's hefty breasts sway and jiggle as she lovingly drains her fan's cocks inside of her; slowly pampering their members until they erupt with thick, potent seed. Jihyo moans a little as she watches, her lust fired by the sight of a girl so much like her younger self making love with such passion. The thought of them getting bred together sends Jihyo's heart racing.... their breasts squished together, kissing intensely as cock after cock unloads inside of them, their bellies swollen to bursting with creamy semen, every inch of their curvy bodies adoringly used for their fans pleasure, holding hands as the supreme moment finally arrives and their eggs are quickened together... Jihyo is dripping wet as she blinks away her fantasies, she would have to wait to indulge herself with Swan; it would be unbecoming to show so much favor so soon. So she hurries along, thighs damp with juices.

Luckily for the matriarch of Twice, the next section over is solely occupied by her dear friend Lisa; as well as the unconscious body of Tzuyu. Lisa gives an apologetic smile, the poor girl had tried to match her and well... she shrugs. Semen plasters every surface in the area, Tzuyu is practically drowning in it, Lisa is literally painted with it, her holes overflowing with it. Jihyo gives the mischievous slut a pointed glare, before descending into giggles, she could never stay mad at Lisa. Who teasingly pats the wall beside her, inviting Jihyo to join in the fun, to let loose a little; she does deserve it after all. With Jihyo all buttered up from her enticing fantasies of Swan, she is in no condition to refuse the offer to play with hedonistic idol; so she agrees, reaching out for a fan. Just a little fun...

That had been an hour ago, and the two idols showed no sign of stopping their carnal rampage. Cock after cock are shoved through the holes, only to be slammed into gushing holes moments later, and squeezed dry within a minute. Jihyo and Lisa fuck side-by-side moaning to one another and sloppily kissing as they slake their lusts upon their fans. They stroke throbbing members to either side of themselves, hungrily readying them for insertion, or simply working the turgid loads out of them by hand. It's still not enough for the veteran sluts however, the sex is simply too impersonal to truly satisfy them. Jihyo has a solution however, but she first glances around to take stock and make sure her absence would not imperil her seminar... She needn't have worried, almost every girl group was now solely focused on the primal act of fucking, mixing together and socializing as they received creampie after creampie. With a sleazy smirk, Jihyo produces a key that she slots into the wall, a quick twist of the wrist makes a section of the wall open up. Grasping her friend by the hand, Jihyo pulls her into the dreary half-light of the room beyond. The hidden door hisses shut behind them, and Jihyo and Lisa find themselves confronted by a corridor packed with fans waiting for their turns at a glory hole. They stare in shock at the seductive sight of two idols, drenched with semen and juices, entirely naked and more than willing. Lisa lets out a little squeal of delight and squeezes Jihyo's hand, this was going to be such fun! She stalks forward, hand on her hip, and gives them her most salacious glare, "Well what are you waiting for, boys? Fuck us already." They trip over themselves to comply.

Jihyo and Lisa find themselves on their knees, back-to-back they slurp at the cocks surrounding them, stroking as many off as they can. The crowded fans spurt their jizz all over the idols' smiling faces, gifting them with a fresh layer of sticky goo. They remain crouched there until their lusts grow unbearable, sticking their asses out they demand to be fucked, which they quickly are. The pair are spit-roasted next to one another, as fan after fan frenziedly mounts them from behind, uncaring of what hole they shove their dicks into. The girls suck dry any cock that is forced into their mouths, sometimes even sharing a lucky fan between them as they lick up and down his shaft. Jihyo's huge swaying tits are groped and squeezed, constantly played with even as she pleasures as many fans at once as she can. Soon enough the idols are on the ground in a growing puddle of sexual fluids, legs spread wide as a train of fans take their turns to pump between their thighs. The two get separated for a time after that, both Jihyo and Lisa having all of their holes filled at the same time in a variety of positions; orgasming continuously as they are buried beneath piles of sweaty, thrusting bodies. Jihyo's hefty boobs are constantly getting mounted, the flesh between her breasts are as popular as her pussy to her lovers. Lisa's meanwhile outdoes her friend when it comes to cramming as many cocks inside of her at once; forcing two or even three into one of her holes while screaming for more. The pair are passed around for what seems like hours, their vision filled with a seemingly endless supply of dripping cocks glistening in the dim lighting. Then suddenly it's over, as the final fans groan loudly and spend themselves inside the idols, leaving them panting and exhausted in a pool of cum several inches deep. They stagger to their feet, hugging one another for support, as they slowly walk towards the door, giggling like naughty schoolgirls as they consider what they had done.

Matters in the main room seemed to be winding down as well, with wearied idols sprawled atop toppled furniture throughout the lecture hall. A few lusty girls remained active by the gloryholes, but it was obvious that the supply of fans was swiftly running out. Leaving a trail of glue-like semen, Jihyo languidly reclaims her place at the lectern. Cheerfully ignoring the stinking mess she was making, she taps the microphone once more to get everyone's attention. A chorus of groans and whimpers arises from the prostrated audience, but the murmuring and squeals subsides enough for her to speak. Jihyo merrily thanks the girls for their participation in the seminar, and informs them that the Q&A session would be held... tomorrow. The girls were welcome to stay as long as they needed to recover however, and she hopes that they had an instructive day. She gives Lisa a particularly knowing smile, Jihyo had made sure those Blackpink fans were extremely potent.

Jihyo looked forward to seeing idols waddling around onstage with bulging bellies...

[curiositysavesthecat]

Trigger warning: mention of torture, abuse, violence, rape

McKamey Manor is a famous, most controversial haunted house attraction in which every participant has to sign a 40-page-long waiver stating that the owner, Russ Alan McKamey, will take no responsibility should the participants were to be severely injured (or even dead) as a result of what goes on during the tour; as it's known to be the "most extreme" haunted house attraction in the world — according to those who had participated in it, participants were often tortured for hours; some of them were (almost) drowned from having their heads shoved under the water and held under, some were dragged through concrete as they were chained to a truck, some were waterboarded, some were forced to eat things such as bugs, some were put inside a cage with spiders and other insects, some (mostly women) got their heads shaved as a form of dehumanization, and the list went on and on. Thus it's said to be a "torture chamber" instead of a "haunted house." Safe words were also said to often be ignored. And participants often left the tour with cuts, bruises, or even broken bones. Some needed to be hospitalized. As of now, no one has yet to "stay until the end of the tour" and win the $20,000 prize ever since its opening back in 2017.

Moreover, its owner, Russ McKamey, has recently been arrested and charged with attempted murder and rape. His ex girlfriends have claimed that he tried to kill them and was extremely violent and abusive towards them. During the event of his arrest, he's allegedly choked his girlfriend to the point of unconsciousness twice during domestic altercations, and he's also allegedly raped her.

You can google more information about it if you want (YouTube is a good go-to place), as there's no way for us to cover everything in one single post. We'd also like to clarify that everything we've listed here is simple what former participants and those who were in Russ's life claimed to have happened to them. So we encourage you to do your own research if you'd like to know more about it.

This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (6/?)

Chapter summary: The relationship between you and Wanda reaches a critical juncture.

Chapter word count: 10,500 words

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter), Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: mildly dubious consent, alcohol abuse, smut, toxic relationships

Author's note: Yup.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next chapter: Seven

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez

-

Part VI

Wanda hasn’t heard from you in exactly a week. 

After you dropped off Sparky at her apartment, she attempted to invite you in for a chance to explain herself, but you firmly declined and hastily departed without uttering a single word or even casting a glance in her direction. Somehow, the situation has deteriorated further than where it’s been months ago.

As before, Wanda made numerous attempts to call you and sent lengthy messages, earnestly explaining that she never intended to offend you and expressing profuse apologies. Over time, her messages grew increasingly desperate, pleading with you to at least inform her if you no longer wished to see her again. However, you remained silent, leaving her messages unanswered. Eventually, her calls ceased to connect, and a warning symbol appeared next to her texts, indicating delivery failure.

The implications were clear.

You’ve finally blocked her.

She couldn’t understand why the topic of children affected you to the point that you’re hell-bent on writing her off this time. Your discussions about having them never went beyond who’s carrying (Wanda) and how many (two); it was more of wishful thinking that didn’t make the priority list in the five years you’ve been married. 

It’s why she didn’t think twice to open up about her regrets of not having them, contemplating whether things would have turned out differently–if she would have turned out differently. Maybe, she would have been someone who didn't prioritize her own needs above all else. 

In a roundabout manner, it was her attempt to convey that she felt flawed and tainted.

There’s no excuse for her cheating. But she wanted you to understand anyway, that if she could have prevented it somehow, she’d give everything she has to seize that opportunity.

But as it turned out, it was foolish of her to think like you were still partners in the old days; where she didn’t need to filter out her thoughts because they were safest with you. You were her best friend, after all.  It became challenging for her to strike a balance between being true to herself and expressing her thoughts with unwavering honesty. Ironically, her sincerity and openness only served to push you further away. Clearly, her efforts to do the right thing have only resulted in diminishing her chances of reconciliation.

Over the last few days, Wanda’s thought a lot about showing up at your door, but seeing how unpredictable you’ve become to her, the prospect of being turned away like a beggar frightens her more than anything. And worse, it might just prompt you to move out of Natasha’s apartment and consequently, out of her life for good. 

Wanda couldn’t take that risk. She’s lost you for the third time now; and each of them has hurt more than the previous one. How many more times does she have to lose you in order for her to learn how to keep you? 

-

“This isn’t what I ordered.” 

Wanda blinks at the customer with a vacant expression. He took one sip and arbitrarily dismissed the drink before turning his attention back to the tablet in front of him.

“You ordered an Iced Americano with oat milk, two pumps of sugar free vanilla and one pump of hazelnut syrup.” Wanda recites his order from memory. 

“No water.” he replies in a monotone, rigidly unbothered in his pristine suit.

Wanda swallows dryly; that detail she forgot about.

“My apologies. I’ll be back with your drink in a few.”

Wanda hurries to the coffee bar to make another. In autopilot, she redoes it from scratch, putting together the ingredients with preciseness that could only be perfected by hours of preparing complex orders alike. She mixes them all together, before filling the cup with ice to the brim. However, right before she can serve it, another customer comes up to the counter, with a mild complaint about their paninis. 

It takes less than a minute for Wanda to deal with the problem, and then she returns to the businessman with the replacement drink. Wanda quietly places the cup in front of him. His dull eyes flicker to her as he tentatively takes a small sip. Grimacing, he sets his cup down and then flashes Wanda an impatient look as he says, “How many times do I have to spell it out for you? I said no water.”

Wanda’s nostrils flared. “The hot espresso would melt the ice somehow,” she snaps with a tight smile, and then she openly leers at a specific area below his waist. “Or is your brain too small to understand that’s just basic science?” 

Her voice is loud and sharp enough for two other customers to hear, and for Agatha to come rushing to her side to help with the situation.

The man rises abruptly in a fury, and stretches his spine to look taller than his height.

“You’ll be hearing from me in your Yelp reviews later.” With that, he leaves, making sure to slam the door on his way out. Everyone cringes in chorus at the clashing sound of metal chimes. 

Wanda tacitly apologizes to the customers bothered by the commotion, before cleaning up the table of the one who just left.

When she returns to the kitchen, Agatha studies her in concern.

“You alright, dear?” she whispers to Wanda, depositing a tray of dirty plates and utensils on the sink. Wanda works her jaw as she starts putting those in the dishwasher. 

“Wanda, dear?” Agatha tries again. “Wanda.” she repeats in a hushed tone. That’s when she notices Wanda’s hands gripping the edge of the sink hard, her knuckles turn white. The brunette is shaking, breaths becoming shallower and shallower until she’s gasping uncontrollably. Agatha grabs Wanda by the shoulders and starts to lead her outside from some fresh air.

“N-No,” Wanda protests in between pants. “J-Just wait it out.” Then she falls to the floor and hugs her knees, willing for her panic attack to pass. In the background, she hears the remaining customers leave, murmuring to themselves about the “unpleasant vibe” the cafe is giving off. 

Agatha is on the phone, calling Pietro.

Make it stop. Wanda thinks to herself, trying to gain control of her breathing. Please, make it stop.

An image of you appears in her head. With her eyes closed, she can see every crease, every pore, every detail of your beautiful face. 

“Y/N…” she utters your name like a prayer. 

Gradually, the tremors subside. Her heart rate returns to normal. Wanda feels herself reconnect to her body. The episode is over just in time for Agatha to return with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alright!” she cries, before dropping to her knees and enveloping Wanda into a stiff hug. “You scared me! I thought you were having a seizure.”

“Panic attack.” Wanda corrects her evenly. “I get them sometimes. Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Agatha rubs her shoulder soothingly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The warm feeling of comfort is what finally breaks Wanda. She covers her face with both of her hands and sobs into them. 

“Oh, Wanda…” Agatha takes her back into her arms and rocks her back and forth. “What’s happening to you?”

When her crying subsides, Wanda tells Agatha everything; from the night she found you again at the club, to the short-lived friendship that ended in a misunderstanding about imaginary kids.

“Honey, don’t you think it’s unhealthy to be in-touch with your ex-wife in the first place?” Agatha says in the best way she wouldn’t sound too critical of Wanda’s predicament. 

Wanda hastily brushes away the lingering tears that continue to trickle down her cheeks.

“I never wanted to be divorced from her. I never wanted us to end.” Wanda swallows back a whimper, feeling another dam within her threatening to burst at any second.

Agatha tries to sympathetically put some sense into her. “But you agreed. You signed those papers–”

“It’s what she wanted. And after what I did, I was in no position to deny her anything.”

“And what were you expecting to happen after you gave her what she wanted?

“I…” Wanda trails off, feeling like the biggest idiot now that she’s realizing how naive she’d really been for the past several weeks. So deluded into thinking that she’ll eventually worm her way back into your heart. “I don’t know.”

Divorcing didn’t feel so permanent when she agreed to it. To her, marriage was a legal binding that came with spousal benefits. Even without it, she already knew she was spending the rest of her life with you. When you divorced her, it didn’t change the fact that she was yours for good. 

Agatha sighs and puts her hand on top of Wanda’s, squeezing it lightly. “You know, we’ve never really talked about our personal lives. Most probably because I was your boss.” she says with a light chuckle. “But have I told you that I never married?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Someone from the gallery mentioned it in passing. I forgot who.” 

“I bet it’s Dottie. That bitch,” Agatha mumbles, glaring at the empty space in front of her. “Anyway… What was I saying?”

“You never married.”

“Ah, yes,” Agatha’s face twists into something wistful and sullen. “But it’s not because it wasn’t for me. To be honest, I love the idea of it. I guess you could say I missed the opportunity to be married.”

Dottie never delved into the reasons why Agatha stayed single all this time; likely because no one had gotten close enough to uncover the complete story.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, recognizing that Agatha is sharing this narrative as a diversion, and she feels a sense of gratitude for it. 

“The love of my life wanted to marry me before I was ready. I was, oh god, eighteen? A country girl, fresh out of highschool and ready to show the world what she’s made of.”

Wanda smiles softly as she imagines a young, vivacious Agatha Harkness. 

“He’s a junior police officer in our town and three years my senior,” Agatha tilts her head, the back of her head pressing against the kitchen cabinet. Wanda observes how engrossed she is in her own trip down memory lane. 

“I remember it like it was yesterday. I hadn’t known he’d been planning a proposal at the festival that was going to be held the night of my graduation day,” Agatha recalls. “So, when he got down on one knee with a ring in front of everyone we knew–our friends, our family, and practically the whole town–I had wanted to be struck by lightning and just…fall dead on the spot. That would’ve been the best thing to happen that night.”

Wanda’s brows are knitted together as she asks, “What did you do?”

Agatha starts laughing–a cackling humorless sound–nothing short of unhinged if Wanda hadn’t heard it before. “I ran. I literally ran for my life.” she tells Wanda.

“He was so humiliated by my reaction, he wouldn’t see me at all. I didn’t reach out either. I don’t think we ever broke up. We just stopped talking to each other. And then my career took off and I landed in New York.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him after?”

Agatha smiles sadly at that, and says, “Oh, yes. I kept tabs on him for years. He got married to someone else the following year, just before I could muster up the courage to fix things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. And I’ve moved past it.” Agatha’s eyes are wet when they meet Wanda’s.

"So... you never got married because you've been in love with him all this time?" Wanda asks, curiosity and surprise lingering in her words.

The question sends Agatha into a fit of giggles. “Don’t be silly, Wanda. I’m not a martyr. I fell in love so many times after him.”

Wanda laughs along though self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid take.”

As the silence settles between them, Agatha proceeds, her voice softening. "There was a time when I truly believed I would never move on. I was fixated on him for years. It may sound petty, but I even started curating my social media profiles to project an image of living my best life—well, in a way—just in case he ever stumbled upon them."

She takes a breath before continuing. "But then, one day, I woke up and he didn't consume my thoughts anymore. As my heart let go of him, it also released the notion of marriage."

“Oh,” Wanda looks down at her lap, not really knowing what to make sense of it all. “Those men that came after your ex, you never saw yourself marrying any of them?”

“I already had my one, great love, Wanda. He’s the only boy I was sure I could love forever. Yes, I can fall in love with other people again and again, but I’ve come to realize that it will never measure up to what I felt for him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

"I do, actually," Wanda responds with unwavering determination. She isn't entirely certain of Agatha's intentions in sharing her story, but it only solidifies Wanda's resolve to win you back. "If I have to go to great lengths to prove myself to Y/N, then I'm prepared to do so. I won't give up without a fight."

"No, no," Agatha shakes her head, a little dismayed that her true message didn't come across as intended. "You're supposed to do the opposite. Let. Him. Go. One day, you're going to wake up, and it will all be nothing but a precious chapter in your life."

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying when you say it’s “nothing” to you. The fact that this memory has stayed with you all these years means something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you regret that you acted a little too late. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Wanda says, getting to her feet. 

"I have no regrets," Agatha asserts, looking up at Wanda with staunch confidence. "And you have no right to judge me for choosing to prioritize myself over catering to his wounded ego."

"I wasn't judging you," Wanda soothes softly. "And I apologize if I'm not hearing what you want me to hear, but Y/N was open to maintaining a connection with me. And as far as I can tell, she isn't involved with anyone else yet, which means I-"

"How certain are you?" Agatha interrupts, a hint of challenge in her voice. "How certain are you that she isn't currently planning her future with someone new?"

"I just am," Wanda responds with full conviction.

“That’s not good enough, Wanda.”

“Well, unless I see her say ‘I fucking do’ to someone else at the altar, then the only option for me is her.”

Agatha drops her chin in defeat. She takes a long, deep breath before pulling herself off the ground so that she can address Wanda on eye-level. 

“I can’t tell you what to do because clearly, your mind’s made up. It seems made up long before you and Y/N got yourselves into this mess.”

Wanda is quiet as she stares at the floor, not denying nor confirming anything.

Agatha's expression softens as she reaches out to lift Wanda's chin gently, making her meet her eyes. "I'm here to support you, my dear. And I genuinely wish you the best."

Wanda struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. "Agatha, I... I apologize for what I said earlier about-"

“I’m not hurt,” Agatha says, but it doesn’t make Wanda feel any less guilty. “Believe me, I’ve said and done worse things when I was in your position.”

Wanda nods solemnly. “Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Please don’t tell Pietro. He’s doing well, I think. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s been here long enough already.”

“You have my word.”

-

Later, after Wanda closes up shop for the day, she goes straight to your place. She loafs around a corner across your building, deliberating if she should come up to your unit and hash it out. The lights are open where your living room would be on the third floor, indicating that you’re home. But just as she makes the decision to see you, a figure of a woman approaches your window to draw the curtains. 

Wanda narrows her eyes, and as she looks closely, instantly recognizing that she’s the same woman from the club. The woman you danced with, seemingly without a care in the world.

Wanda’s step falters, almost losing her balance. She lingers for a bit, gazing up helplessly at your window. As people pass by her motionless figure on the streets, their expressions turn to suspicion, their eyes drawn to the direction that has captured her attention so completely.

She pays them no attention, but when it becomes apparent that this woman wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, she decides to go home.

As Wanda catches the last train to her borough, she tries not to think about what it means. 

Wanda’s never been one to reel in her jealousy; no matter the fact that she no longer has any business of feeling that way in the first place.

-

“Y/N?”

“Maybe it would have stopped me.”

Your mind keeps rewinding the same scene from a week ago. Over and over again, you see green eyes, large and imploring. 

“Y/N.”

Maybe it would have stopped me.

You see Wanda standing by the doorway, terrified and confused. It’s haunting in a way that you kind of wished you didn’t agree to this friendship thing in the first place. 

“Y/N!”

Yelena's voice calling your name startles you, snapping you back to the present moment. You blink and refocus your attention on her. "Sorry, what's up?"

Yelena had arrived unexpectedly an hour ago, holding a bag of Shake Shack takeout and mentioning something about being in the area for an event. It hadn't occurred to you that you hadn't been in contact since the night you shared a kiss at her doorstep. In fairness, she hadn't reached out to you either.

She had set up the food spread of burgers and fries on the table in front of the TV while you searched for a horror movie that neither of you had seen. However, in the midst of dinner, she had to take an important work call, and your thoughts immediately drifted back to the events of the previous week, those green eyes that were dark pools of fear and rejection. 

Yelena bites her lip, finally noticing the disconnect and distance you've been exhibiting.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks. 

You tilt your head at her curiously. “Talk about what?”

Yelena rubs her temples as her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Oh my god, you can be such an asshole sometimes.” 

As you grab Yelena's hand, a surge of determination courses through you, preventing her from fully retreating. "Lena," you say, using her childhood nickname, a name that holds a special significance between the two of you. 

It's a subtle way of easing the tension that has filled the room. With a mix of relief and vulnerability, Yelena allows herself to be pulled back towards the couch, and she plops back down beside you.

“Look, I know I didn’t call you either after we… after that night. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to figure things out with you.” she says.

You sigh, letting go of her hand. “Frankly, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about this,” Yelena proposes. “I’ll start with a question and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“You’ve thought this through.” you say.

“I have.”

“Alright.”

Yelena nods. “Here it goes,” she blows out her cheeks. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I–”

“I don’t need a quick answer,” Yelena interrupts. “I need an honest one.”

The truth is, from the moment it happened until Wanda showed up the following day, it consumed your thoughts entirely. You recall lying awake in bed, unable to shake the desire to experience it again—the softness of Yelena's lips, the subtle differences in her kisses compared to those you had shared before.

You kissed her simply because it was unthinkable to do anything otherwise in that moment.

You give her this answer, and Yelena’s expression remains eerily neutral. Not that you were expecting some kind of reaction, but still–

“So if it had gone beyond a kiss, you’re saying you just wanted to hook up?”

You shake your head at her incredulously. “Not at all!”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to have sex with me at all…”

“I do! I mean–of course I’m attracted to you. But I didn’t kiss you just because I wanted to sleep with someone,” you say, feeling a pressure at the back of your neck. “I kissed you because I just… wanted to kiss you.” you wince at hearing yourself repeat the same thing like a broken record.

Yelena studies you for a moment, before she says, “Does that mean anything?”

“It means being close to you like that brought a decade-old feeling to the surface.” you reply, the volume of your voice considerably fading towards the end of your sentence. 

Yelena plays with the necklace around her neck. “Yeah? What sort of feelings?”

You prop your chin on one hand. All things considered, what you once had with Yelena had every potential to be one of your greatest loves. But you don’t want to mistake love with feelings of nostalgia. 

“You don’t have to answer that one,” Yelena says after a long, heavy moment. “Actually, I’d prefer it if you don’t. I’ve been thinking a lot this past week. About the possibility of us. About you, as a person… about me, as a person. And we’ve… changed. I just didn’t realize it before because you feel like home to me. I think no matter how long or far we’re apart, I’ll always feel that way about you.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft smile. “Your presence in my life has been nothing but comforting. Safe. Like I can always be me, even at my worst.”

“But it’s not enough for me, Y/N. I never thought the window would open again when Nat told me you got married. So, I’ll be damned if I miss my chance again.”

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we give this a real chance," she says.

"I... I don't think I'm ready," you hesitate.

Yelena can't help but let a smirk creep onto her lips. "Says the girl who kissed me."

You blush at that, wishing you carried the same courage you had that night at this very moment.

When you fail to respond, Yelena prods you with a question. 

“You’re not ready or you’re scared you’d hurt me?” she asks.

With love, you have always been ready. It has always been a natural and instinctive part of your being. You embraced love in all its complexities; with its joys and sorrows, without fear or reservation. But now, you cower in the shadow of betrayal–as if it was love itself that betrayed you, rather than Wanda.

“I’m scared I’d hurt you,” you choke out, barely able to contain the tremor in your voice. “... And I’m scared to be hurt again.”

Yelena’s heart breaks at your words. “Come here.” she whispers.  

She doesn’t really wait for you to act. Before you know it, Yelena has closed the distance to encircle her arms around your waist and pull you into a tight embrace. You hug her back and bury your face into her neck. It’s only when you feel Yelena’s soaked shirt against your cheek, that you realize you’ve been crying.

You remain intertwined in each other's arms for a while, finding solace in the connection you share, until Yelena’s phone rings and it’s Kate urgently asking her to work with her on a story that’s about to erupt. Understanding the importance of her work, you reluctantly send her off, promising to continue the conversation at a later time.

Just as Yelena is about to leave, she suddenly pauses and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a brief yet intense kiss. The passion and longing in that moment leave you breathless. Before parting, she whispers, "Something more for you to think about. Now, we're even."

With those words lingering in the air, she releases your bottom lip with a wet sound and leaves you with a swirl of emotions and thoughts to ponder.

-

That same night, on the rooftop of her apartment building, Wanda sits alone, surrounded by the night sky and the faint smell of tobacco after doubling her dosage of tranquilizers again.

The half-empty pack of cigarettes lies beside her, a testament to her struggle to cope with the turmoil in her heart. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, feeling the burn in her lungs, and exhales a cloud of smoke into the air. Beside the pack of cigarettes, a bottle of tequila rosé stands, its contents diminishing with every sip Wanda takes. 

Wanda's mind drifts back to her college days, remembering how smoking was once a non-negotiable deal-breaker for you. She had forced herself to quit back then, eager to align herself with your preferences and expectations. But now, in this moment of heartache and confusion, she finds herself returning to this old habit, seeking comfort and familiarity in the act of lighting a cigarette.

She recalls the day you moved out of your home in Westview, the day her world began to unravel. It was then that she picked up smoking again, a way to cope with the pain of your absence. And even when she found you again, she attempted to quit for the second time, hoping to present a version of herself again that you would approve of. 

But tonight, with her heart heavy and her emotions overwhelming, Wanda allows herself to surrender to the temptation of smoking. Each inhale brings a momentary respite from her thoughts, even if it comes at the cost of her health and well-being. She remembers how you used to despise the smell of tobacco on her breath, how you would express your concern about the impact it had on her life expectancy.

“As much as eleven minutes per stick.” You had told her so many times, back when you were just friends.

Yet in this moment, Wanda finds solace in the cigarettes, even if it's just for those fleeting minutes that they shorten her life. It's a small act of rebellion, a way to reclaim a fragment of control in the uncertainty of it all. 

“Ever wonder who will die first in our old age?” Wanda asks you one night after a particularly intense make-up sex. Lying in bed, you’re exhausted and seconds away from sleep, while Wanda’s energy hasn’t dissipated at all–rather, it increased even more after two orgasms.

You’ve been married for two years, and fought over a random encounter with Carol; a fellow NYU who was crazy about you for the entirety of your sophomore year. The aforementioned encounter was an annual work meeting with your company’s outside partners, and it led to Carol asking you to catch up over coffee after work.

“I hope it’s me.” you say, snuggling close to Wanda’s side. Tenderly, you place an arm over her exposed abdomen and affectionately squeeze a small fold on her belly.

“Can’t be you. I used to smoke three to four cigarettes a day for years before you made me quit.” Wanda says, laughing a little when you accidentally pinch a ticklish spot. 

“For the record, I didn’t make you quit.” 

“Fine,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “But going back to the topic: I think it’s going to be me.”

You’re quiet for a long period with Wanda thinking you’ve already fallen asleep, when you say, “I just did the math. As far as I know, you were a smoker for seven years, so that would amount to… about 10,200 cigarettes. Or 2.5 months lost.” 

Wanda looks down at you in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Your smile is mysterious as you close your eyes using Wanda’s breast as your pillow. 

“Don’t you dare start smoking now.” Wanda threatens softly, but you hear the fear in her voice anyway.

She feels your smile widen against her damp skin as you repeat, “I hope it’s me.” 

Wanda takes a satisfying puff from her last stick and wonders what’s one more thing for you to hate about her. 

Love is watching someone die. She heard that from a song that seems like a lifetime ago. Yet, she never truly understood its implications, given the typically grim connotations associated with death.

It was not until she revisited that casual conversation with you that she grasped the profound reality: by choosing to spend the rest of her life with you, she had essentially volunteered to bear witness to your eventual passing. Death, an inescapable and inevitable anguish, is a burden one willingly embraces solely out of genuine love for another.

Wanda shuts her eyes, recognizing the pressing need to halt her mind's meandering towards these thoughts, or she’ll never stop grieving. 

The cigarette's smoldering remnants fall from her lips as Wanda crushes it beneath her heel. She turns her attention to the bottle of rosé, swiftly uncapping it and taking a lengthy swig. No, she is not harboring suicidal thoughts. However, she remains unfazed by the potential perils arising from the harmful combination of her vices.

-

It’s almost midnight and you have only just been half-unconscious in your bed, when your phone rings for what feels like forever.

An unknown, overseas number appears on your vibrating screen and you stare at it for while before answering.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Natasha’s raspy voice comes through. The line is murky, and you can hear a foreign language being spoken in the background. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

You sit up on your bed, waking up quickly from your shallow sleep. “Where are you calling from?”

“Somewhere in Asia.” 

“Oh, I thought you’re in–”

“No. The mission took me here a day ago. Listen, I only have about five minutes.” Natasha says, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone. 

You sit up straight on the bed, the last vestiges of sleep leaving your senses. “I’m listening.”

“Yelena and I talked some five minutes ago,” Natasha starts and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You hear a deep sigh coming from the other end–can feel Natasha’s apparent hesitation. But then–

“She didn’t exactly say that she’s still in love with you, but… But that’s how it sounded to me. And then she basically told me to fuck off and not act like an ‘overprotective asshole’–her words not mine.”

“We kissed.” The confession frees itself before you can stop it. 

“She did not disclose that detail.” Natasha says through gritted teeth from what you can hear.

“I should’ve told you but I don’t really know how to reach you, so–”

“I get it. I’m not mad,” Natasha says. “Not saying I’m okay with it either. Actually, I’m being ridiculous because you’re both adults.”

Growing up as an only child, you think it’s endearing how zealous she can be when it comes to looking out for Yelena. It’s something you’ll never dismiss as absurd in any way, especially since both were adopted and shortly abandoned by their parents before Natasha turned thirteen. Apart from you, Yelena is Natasha’s only family. And you hate being the cause of conflict between the two.  

“I just need to know one thing. Do you still love her?” Natasha asks. 

It’s instantly obvious that there’s a right and wrong answer to this. At the same time, you hear someone frantically knock on your door.

“Wait, Nat,” you mutter distractedly, putting on a pair of shorts. “There’s someone at the door.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Natasha mumbles. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“Wait a sec,” you say. The knocking remains persistent and demanding. You yell out, “Who is it?” as you pad towards the door. 

You don’t concern yourself with waiting for an answer. You hurriedly work the locks of the apartment and a certain brunette comes tumbling forwards the moment the door swings open. 

“Wanda?”

She’s wearing a mustard cardigan with liquid stains on the chest. And beneath the cardigan, a pair of pajamas that doesn’t match. From the looks of her, this visit was planned on a whim. 

For a while, you forget that your best friend is still on the call, until you hear Natasha say, “Yes, Wanda. Who else?”

“I… I’ll have to call you back.” you say to Natasha and simultaneously end the call before she can even protest. 

“Is she still here?” Wanda slurs and then lets out a small hiccup that you’d normally find adorable, except that you’re not supposed to feel that way towards her in light of being no longer married. 

And also the fact that there’s nothing adorable about seeing her so plastered to the point of being unable to focus her eyes on anything for longer than a second. 

“Who?” you feign ignorance, clueless as to how Wanda knew Yelena was at your apartment. 

As Wanda tries to approach you, her intoxicated state causes her to stumble, requiring you to swiftly grasp her by the waist to prevent her from falling. She lets out a laugh, but it rings hollow.

“You smell like baby powder.” Wanda comments quietly, her nose bumping the side of your neck. The contact sends a shiver cascading down your spine, awakening sensations you'd prefer to suppress, especially when it concerns Wanda. Feeling how dangerous having Wanda this close is, you gently push at her shoulders. Wanda relents with little resistance and when she looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, asks the same question, “Is she still here?”

You decide to answer her truthfully this time. “She went home.” 

Wanda nods in understanding and you watch her eyes fall shut, a solitary tear escaping her closed lids.

“Okay,” she whispers solemnly, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Thank you, that’s… All I… yeah.”

You rub your hands over your face in a feeble attempt to wake yourself up in case you’re dreaming, but before you can reckon what to do next, Wanda’s already turning on her wobbly legs towards the elevator. 

“Wanda, wait–” You reach out to tug at her wrist, and the slight force from it whirls her back around. She faces you with her eyes still closed, but her quivering lashes are brimming with more tears that are so close to spill.

When Wanda does open her eyes, they do spill. And it takes everything in you not to pull her into a hug and just make it all go away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Wanda sniffs, brushing at her face but it’s no use–it’s like a dam has burst and it’s apparent that the steady stream flowing through her cheeks isn't letting up soon. “I don’t know why–I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Drunk Wanda never cried, particularly not on account of you. She was, at best, silly and clumsy–tripping over things and waking up to minor injuries she doesn’t remember getting.

Instead of replying, you lead her inside and Wanda dutifully allows herself to be led. She curls into herself on the couch, feet tucked under her. 

“I’ll go get you some water.” you say, padding towards the kitchen. It’s only when you’re sure Wanda can’t hear you that you release the breath you’ve been holding since her arrival.

A clean slate is what you yearn for, what seems rational in your current circumstances. The logical part of your mind insists on starting anew, devoid of bitterness, guilt, and the weight of unanswered questions. Free from the presence of Wanda Maximoff, who acts as the catalyst for all those emotions.

But wanting to want something and actually wanting something are two entirely different things. 

The question lingers.

Do you still love her? At first it’s Natasha’s face you imagine while the question is being asked. And then she morphs into Yelena, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight just right before you had kissed her. 

And then, it’s you. Do I still love her?

Would you have kept her at arm’s length if you knew the answer to this?

Just as you find yourself confronting the inevitability of needing an answer, you feel lithe arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tightly against a body that would never not be familiar to you.

You tense automatically, but can’t find the will to step out of her embrace. It’s an understatement to say that Wanda Maximoff is your weakness. Without the raw and immediate feelings of anger and betrayal, without the sickening rush of having blood on your hands, and without the concrete reminders of how she threw away a decade worth of love and trust for a fling she claimed wasn’t even that important to her, is just–

It’s the kind of weakness that could annihilate all sense and reason; that could forgive the unforgivable, forget the unforgettable, even learn what has been unlearned. 

It’s a weakness that scares you if Wanda wields it to her favor. You’ve appreciated how she was very conscious of giving you as much space as you need for the past few weeks. You noticed how much she held back every time you were together. But right now, at her current state, you don’t know what Wanda would do. And she probably doesn’t know as well how much power she has in her hands despite her susceptibility to seeing you with another woman. 

“Remember when we talked about who’s probably going to die first when we’re old and don't have many years left in us?” you feel more than hear Wanda murmur against your shoulder, hating the way you slacken in her hold. 

In that moment, memories flood your mind, and although you recall vividly, you opt to remain still and silent.

“I hope it’s me,” Wanda whispers, echoing the exact words you had said to her that night. “I don’t ever want to go through the pain of watching you slip away again.”

Your heart crashes to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces that would never be a hundred percent whole again. 

“Wands,” you say breathlessly, then as you turn to face her, a cold hand softly cups your cheek and before you know it, she’s kissing you.

A fresh wave of tears sting at Wanda’s eyes because she can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. She’s hot all over and feeling the onset of a migraine from the alcohol and the pills, but they don’t diminish the pleasure of being surrounded by your smell and the feel of your unmoving lips.

As for you, all you could taste was the combination of bad choices she made just a while ago.

Regrettably, the fleeting moment ends sooner than Wanda desired, as you firmly grasp her shoulders with both hands and apply enough force to cause her to stagger momentarily before regaining her balance.

You barely managed to hang on to what’s left of your control. 

“Please, stop,” you don’t mean for it to come out as vulnerable as it sounds, but it’s hard to keep the firmness in your voice when Wanda’s looking at you like that.

“I love you,” Wanda insists so brokenly, she almost delivers it with a whine. 

“I love you, Y/N.” she repeats, as if there’s a threshold for the number of times she has to say it until you believe her–which, still, you don’t.

“It’s just the alcohol and maybe nostalgia talking.” you say. 

“You’re wrong. I love you. I want you.”

It’s pointless and childish to argue with a drunk person, but you can’t help but seethe in Wanda’s unwavering belief in her own lies. 

You take a couple of calculated steps towards her until you’ve effectively backed her against the fridge. 

“You know what I think?” you say menacingly, and it appeases you to see how she slightly trembles beneath your gaze. “I think you just want to fuck me. And it’s driving you crazy because you don’t own me anymore.”

You say it because it’s something you’ve been wondering about for a while now. It’s difficult for you to tell what she’s after–what she gets out of coming after you and wrecking herself like this in the process. You’re aware of Wanda’s tunnel vision when it comes to getting what she wants–specifically ones that don’t come easy–and you’ve seen it firsthand numerous times over the years. She never backs down from a challenge. 

You can’t help but think–is that what this is? A challenge to win back what she had so carelessly tossed aside?

Wanda, on the other hand, is far incapable of digesting your words properly. And yet, it just becomes clear to her how deep your resentment really goes. 

“That’s perhaps the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she whispers. 

You shake your head, backing away. It’s not quite as biting as you intend it to be when you say, “Oh? Well, it doesn’t compare to the ugliest thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Tense silence stretches out between the two of you, with only the sound of your breaths and your pounding hearts filling the void. By this time, Wanda’s eyes are dry. All that’s left are tear tracks that run through the edges of her jaw. She looks diminished and soulless, and somehow, it’s a worse sight. 

Wanda promptly hisses at the sharp pain that pulses on one side of her head, her fingers coming up to her temples to massage them.

Your shoulders slump, feeling exhausted–physically and mentally–all of a sudden. 

“Wanda–” you start, her well-being taking priority over your pique. “Please just lie down on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.”

“I think I’m gonna go.” she says, even as she struggles to walk in a straight line.

“You’re drunk and you’re staying here. This is not a negotiation.”

A beat of silence, and then managing a scoff, she says, “Fine.”

Proceeding into Natasha's bedroom, you retrieve a pillow and a thin comforter, uncertain of where she keeps the actual spare bedding for guests. Returning to the living room, you find Wanda lying on her stomach, already in a deep slumber on the couch. Her face is turned away, mouth slightly open, accompanied by gentle snores. Glancing at the kitchen, you notice the untouched glass of water you had prepared for her. There’s no doubt the headache that awaits her when she wakes up. With utmost care, you drape the comforter over her body, ensuring her bare feet are covered, and place the pillow beneath her outstretched arm.

Creating an ambiance of dimness, you switch off all the lights, allowing only the moon's gentle glow and the radiant lights of the ever-awake city to seep through the window. Your gaze lingers on the shadowed outline of your ex-wife's peaceful form for a few fleeting moments before you withdraw to your own bedroom.

With the reassurance of Wanda being safe and sound in such close proximity, you swiftly succumb to a deep, dreamless slumber.

It’s still dark outside when you stir awake, with the sun peeking just outside the horizon. Last night’s sequence of events return to you in deliberate fragments, and you immediately get up and walk over the living room.

No sign of Wanda. 

The blanket you gave her is neatly folded on the armrest together with Natasha’s pillow. Circling the couch, you spot her cardigan discarded on the floor. She must have ridden herself of it, somewhere during the night. 

Bending down to pick up the article of clothing, and you’re unprepared for the smell of Wanda that wafts to your nose.

You’ve said some things. Appaling things. Reflecting on what was said, you're overcome with remorse, realizing the depth of the vilification you subjected her to.

You wouldn’t have loved her for so long if she was horrible enough to harbor such ill intentions.

Maybe the least you could do is put her cardigan in the laundry. Returning it to her in a fresh and clean state would be a small gesture of consideration and apology.

-

A throbbing pain is what woke Wanda about an hour before sunrise. Dread overcame her right when she opened her eyes to the familiar gray of your flat. She can’t recall much of what happened last night; only an inkling that she fucked up every step of the way following the moment she showed up at your door. Deeply ashamed of barging in and probably forcing you to shelter her for a night, Wanda left your building in a hurry. On top of the humiliation, she’s also already late for her cafe’s pre-opening ceremonies. 

It’s an unusually busy Tuesday, and she failed to get Pietro to come over and lend a helping hand. People are growing agitated by the slow service, ignoring the obvious reason that their server is wearing all the hats today–cashier, barista, waitress and maintenance. She’s tending to the cafe alone, except for Sparky–and she can’t really ask a dog to serve food and drinks… or can she?

Though if there’s one thing Wanda Maximoff is, it’s that she’s a professional multitasker.

“Can I follow up on that upside down mocha latte, miss?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll be right with you.”

“This needs more sugar.”

“We have packets of sugar, sugar-replacement, creamer, cinnamon and so much more over that corner.”

“Excuse me, how much for two dozens of matcha peanut butter cookies? And do you take advance orders?”

“That’s, uh, you know what let me check. And yes we do take advance orders and provide catering services.”

“Your dog is licking the spilled coffee on the floor, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, shit–Sparky, get away from that!” Wanda temporarily sets her tray down on the table of one of her customers to get a mop.

“Miss, I think you swapped my order with–”

She’s not going to freak out. There’s no way she’s going to freak out. 

Wanda’s on her way to cleaning up the spill when someone jerks the mop out of her grip. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Vision mumbles without looking directly at Wanda. “You should attend to that asshole by the window. I think he’s about to lose it.”

Wanda’s at a loss for words, conflicted between carrying on with her duties and thinking whether or not she should confront her former student about why he’s here. In the end, she really has no choice but to charge through the pending orders and appease the snappy customers or else she risks losing this business. 

Little by little, the demands die down. And then finally, Wanda’s left to deal with Vision who’s seated near the back room, hunched over Sparky while her dog laps at his bony fingers.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Wanda says as she approaches his table.

Vision jolts upright and she uses the opportunity to take a proper look at him. He looks a great deal better than the last time they saw each other. Wanda’s sincerely happy for him. Still, he cannot be here.

“Thank you for helping earlier, but I believe it’s best if you leave now.” Wanda asserts, her irritation palpable.

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything,” Vision says, unfazed by Wanda’s animosity. “I didn’t know you work here.”

Wanda snorts in amusement. “I don’t simply work here. I own this place.”

Vision looks embarrassed for making the wrong assumption. “Sorry, I… Congratulations, Wanda. This is truly remarkable..”

“Thanks,” she says, and then gestures at the door. “Now could you please…?”

“Can’t I at least order a coffee to-go?” Vision interjects.

“Fair enough,” Wanda concedes. 

“What would you recommend?” he asks, studying the menu with rapt concentration.

“Our bestseller is the Spanish latte.”

“Got anything Keto?”

Wanda casts him a dumbfounded look. But Vision seems serious with his request. The pieces of their affair now seem like a perplexing puzzle; and now she’s exploring the possibility that their affair could have been her having a mental break. Not for the first time she wonders, what the fuck was I thinking?

“Fine. Would you like it hot or cold? Medium or large?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, iced. Large.” he says.

Wanda works the register. “Large iced americano with two shots of heavy cream and a Splenda, coming right up.” 

Vision pays for his drink and thanks her. He waits by the counter as Wanda prepares his coffee.

The bells-like sound of the door chime rings, and Wanda mechanically welcomes the newcomer without looking up.

“Hi,” you say, not noticing Vision at all. It’s Sparky who greets you, excitedly wagging his tail as he sniffs you all over. 

Wanda flinches at the sound of your voice. Her eyes widen in panic, and they dart erratically from you to Vision, and then you again. It’s only when you absorb the horrified look on Wanda’s face that you catch sight of a taller figure from the corner of your eyes.

"You..." The word escapes your lips, unintentionally carrying a tinge of disdain. It's the first time you witness Wanda and Vision in the same room, and a rush of emotions floods over you, resurfacing all the pain you have been attempting to overcome during the past several months.

A flurry of questions swirls within your mind, leaving you feeling overwhelmed. Didn’t Natasha say he doesn’t remember? Or has he been aware of everything all along? And what about Wanda? Was she seeing Vision behind your back throughout this entire time? The uncertainty and confusion gnaw at your thoughts, leaving you grappling for answers.

Your first realization is this: no–you have not forgiven them. And if they’re fucking or trying a relationship with each other, you won’t find it in yourself to be genuinely happy for them.

The second thing is that you’ve been fooled once again; she had you believing that she regretted ever throwing away what you two had to fuck this kid. 

All this time, they were continuing where they left off. You don’t care why it bothers you so much–it just does and it makes you livid.

Vision cowers at the sight of you. It confirms your suspicions–he does remember. You watch him carefully as he mumbles a shaky goodbye to Wanda before rushing towards the exit, not caring at all about the drink he had ordered and already paid for. You don’t try to step out of his way, holding your ground as an act of intimidation. 

Neither you nor Wanda move an inch as Vision takes his leave.

"Y/N," she breathes, desperately attempting to convey that things are not as they may appear. “It’s not what you think.”

You scrunch up Wanda’s cardigan tightly in your hand before tossing it to the floor. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.” you say in a low whisper. 

A few nosy customers observe you with intrigue, murmuring to themselves and pretending to be busy with their phones. It makes your mouth twist in a nearly lunatic grin.

Just before you leave the cafe, you make sure that Wanda’s looking you right in the eye as you say, “I never want to see your lying face ever again.”

The finality of your words, coupled with the piercing intensity of your gaze, knocks the wind out of her.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams out your name desperately, throwing caution to the wind. She quickly unties her apron and dashes outside to run after you. 

Frantically scouring the nearby alleyways, her search proves fruitless as you have already disappeared, leaving her to confront the empty streets alone.

-

Wanda tries several ways to reach you. First, she tries calling you from her number, but she discovers you still have her blocked. Next, she asks Agatha to call you, but you refuse to pick up, until your phone becomes unreachable altogether. Whether it’s the reception or your phone being turned off, it’s clear that any effort to get a hold of you through a call is moot.

Pietro eventually accedes to Wanda’s begging and covers the final two hours of her shift. She has to lie to him with a fake emergency, which was very upsetting for her to do considering how passionately you called her a liar just earlier. She goes straight to your place when she’s free of her responsibilities. Her frustration fuels her actions as she pounds on your door with an intensity, demanding that you give her the opportunity to explain herself.

She keeps at it for some time, until the security comes up to your floor to inform her that you haven’t returned all day.

Out of options, Wanda goes home, defeated. More than her yearning to give you an explanation, she worries about where you could have gone to. She’s not a religious person, but when it comes to your safety, she prays to every god there is for you to be okay. 

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door. 

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers. 

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over Queens.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the smell of beer that welcomes her first. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other. 

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?” 

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned. 

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room. 

There’s nothing gentle in the way you pull down her shorts to her ankles, and lift her shirt just enough to expose her tits. 

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth. 

And Wanda loves it. 

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be. 

The throbbing in her clit matches the rhythm of her heartbeat, as you continue to tongue her nipple in broad laps. It’s visually lewd enough for her to avert her eyes in embarrassment, but suddenly, you grip her jaw and force her to look at what you’re doing to her, pausing just long enough to say, “Don’t you fucking look away.” before turning your attention to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Wanda feels her wetness soak the rug below her ass, and all the blood rushes to her core, already begging for release. 

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her. 

Wanda's fingers tentatively approach the button of your jeans, but you swiftly swat them aside. Instead, you seize her hands, lifting them above her head and securing her wrists together.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. And now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects. 

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers. 

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

But it’s like you can't hear her, seemingly entranced by your own fingers going in and out of your ex-wife’s cunt. The pleasure eventually overtakes the pain, and Wanda doesn’t have anything to hold onto as the heel of your palm grinds against her nub in a slow, circling motion. 

Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing. 

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She writhes uncontrollably beneath you, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure, attempting to halt the motion of your fingers by pressing her knees against your lower body. But you keep her where she is, with her legs wide apart. You angle your hand a certain way, so you’re pummeling the spongy area inside of her every time you push inside.

“Kiss me, please,” Wanda whispers shakily against your sweaty forehead. Ignoring her plea, you lick into her ear instead, and then curl your fingers the only way you know how, propelling her over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions. 

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know.” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner? 

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for. 

Lies after lies, you think bitterly. 

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again.” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most. 

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

[wouldvelovedmewheniwassoft]

help keep a queer disabled system couple from breaking NC with my rapist ❤️‍🩹

(CW: parental abuse/familial trauma, death from cancer, alcoholism, domestic violence, homelessness, sui + hospitalization, incest/rape, victim-blaming, abandonment + gaslighting by a toxic friend, harassment involving police, disordered eating)

please don't tag my post. proof of situation provided in imgur album.

i've held off on publicly asking for help beforehand, as i know there are many people in more dire circumstances right now. but i'm at a point where it's absolutely necessary.

i moved out of state to live with my partner system (we both have DID) in March of this year. we already planned to live together, but circumstances forced me to escape and go NC (no contact) with my remaining family for my safety.

i lived in my childhood home for my whole life until this year. my parents and extended family have always been abusive, but things escalated after my mom passed from Stage 4 lung cancer. my father started deteriorating after her diagnosis in 2018, and since her death in 2022, our relationship is no longer salvageable.

his alcoholism worsened significantly, resulting in multiple instances of him driving home drunk, collapsing, and almost being charged with a DUI. he hasn't hit me since i was 13, but he's acted domestically violent by slamming and hitting things whenever i've angered him. he threatened me with homelessness twice for being suicidal (once after a four day hospitalization, once after an attempted overdose), knowing full well i had no resources at the time and would've ended up on the streets. i attempted to escape last year, but my paternal aunt purposefully sabotaged it, forcing me to stay in an unsafe situation and suffer quietly. my mother's family abandoned me in 2020, and they no longer accept me (specifically for being queer/trans, disabled, and a vocal leftist), so they wouldn't help even if i wanted to resume contact.

it took over a year to move out due to my father controlling every aspect of my life with the justification of me being disabled. i tried to get his blessing for me to move in with my partner; but he refused to let me leave him, and he made it clear his disapproval of my relationship was because he didn't want me to have any autonomy outside of him.

the breaking point came after three days of nonstop verbal and emotional/mental abuse from him over an argument he started; everything culminated in him raping me while i was incapacitated. both my best friend of three years and their partner offered for me to crash at their apartment while my partner planned to get me. they also escorted me to a sexual assault center in my state to get a rape kit done.

i burned nearly every bridge in the process, as the people who could help me sided with him. but i didn't anticipate my friends to abandon me, too. they spent my last three days with them coercing me into changing my escape plan and dismissing my visible distress at how doing so would jeopardize my safety. less than 12 hours before we left, my best friend abandoned me via text, saying they'd refuse to help me if i didn't get police involved. anything i said in response resulted in gaslighting from them, mainly using therapy speak of "boundaries" and "triggers" to justify their actions. i cut contact with them after my partner told me they planned to drop me from the start (they told my partner this in a phone call while i was out) and discovering a cruel vague post they made after i last texted them. the last time i ever reached out was to send them money to get through their own situation.

since then, my partner and i have struggled financially. they're currently one write-up away from being fired, and their supervisor has always been volatile, so confronting him or going to anyone else at their job will do nothing. they've gotten help from their grandparents, but they're similarly abusive and unaccepting of them for the same reasons, so it hurts them to beg them even if they're unable to go NC right now.

i'm unable to reapply for disability, and previously lucrative sources of passive income have currently dried up. i'm waiting for orientation to be scheduled so i can start my new job, but we've financially suffered in the meantime. my account was charged off, and i only just now paid off a month's worth of PayPal debt; most of the debt came from paying off medical bills after i was injured in late April (currently contemplating pursuing legal compensation but nothing's set in stone).

i had to break NC twice for my father to help, but it's been triggering both times. i had to block his number before due to him harassing me via call/text, and he made me talk to police twice by falsely reporting me missing.

i cannot risk breaking NC again if my future job falls through or my partner loses theirs. we both had to skip meals several times within the past month to keep from buying food, so it's gotten scary already.

anything you can send helps. if you're unable to, PLEASE share this wherever you can. i also do writing commissions, so DM me to know my rates and what i'm willing to write.

ca | pp | vm

imgur album

(edit 6/18/24: created a new imgur album link; had no idea why the first one was inaccessible, but hopefully this is better formatted and contains additional context)

[thekingofwinterblog]

Fundamental Flaws

So one interesting thing i noticed about the League's flaws, is that the things that kept them from working together at the start, remained the basic flaws that prevented them from helping each other overcome their own flaws.

Namely that they all joined together out of convinience, and they never really got to the level where that actually changed.

When Himiko joins the league, she introduces herself with her seemingly rather confusing motives, namely that she wants a world that is easier for her to live in.

Shigaraki does not understand her wishes at all, and of course lashes out shortly after this after dabi has introduced himself as well, having deemed both of them as not the sort he wants to hang around him.

Dabi by contrast doesnt even try to explain his motives or goals beyond the very vague "fullfill stain's will."

The end result of this is that Shigaraki doesnt even attempt to understand either, and decides to just kill them.

The funny thing is... this kinda attitude never really changes.

Compress even notes it as one of the main reasons he loved the league so much. it didnt pry into his backstory and just took him in regardless.

This attitude is what managed to bring the league together as a force... but it also prevented them from truly truly growing as a group.

Because of the fact nobody wanted or even tried to learn each other's backstories and deeper motivations, none of them ever managed or tried to Help Dabi make a possible future for himself where he could get his vengeance on Endeavor, and still get to live afterwards, instead they just let him burn on, even encouraging him to do so, with the end result that he came to a hellish innevitable march towards death.

Dabi himself tried to help Toga emotionally by setting her childhood home ablaze and rally her heart towards vengeance and freedom, because that's what he is motivated by, but he completely failed to understand what she actually wanted out of life, the reason why out of the entire league, the only person she was able to transform into was Twice, because he was the only one who actually tried to understand her.

This in turn means that Toga ultimately ended up seeking what she truely wanted amongst the heroes, and finally found in uraraka, what she had been afraid to seek/never got from most of the league.

Something that ultimately cost them the war.

this is best showcased when Shigaraki actually lays out his motivations and feelings for villainy, and the rest of his crew(other than spinner) is either completely disinterested, dissapointed or confused.

None of them actually cares about Shigaraki's motives other than spinner, not even Twice.

only spinner and the doctor(who doesnt give a shit about Shigaraki himself) actually cares at all.

of the rest, the only one who even attempts to understand Shigaraki is Toga, and not because she cares about how he feels about it, but because she begun to realise that her goals and interests are ultimately incompatible with shigaraki's(something that would come to fruition during the final arc).

Out of the league, the only one who even tried to understand and did care about shigaraki's motives, and attempted to figure out how they allign with his own wishes, is spinner, and it's not a coincidence that at the very end, he is the only one Shigaraki left his final words to, even if Shigaraki loved the other main members of the league.

The five people Shigaraki Tomura truly cared about in his hearts of hearts at the end... But even here where his feelings are laid bare, there is also another, sad truth.

Kurogiri, the man who effectively cared for Shigaraki as his own son isnt included amongst them.

Kurogiri is a rather complicated character, but it's clear by his final words, that he truly loved the league, just like compress did, and hoped they would be reunited in whatever came next.

It's not clear WHY shigaraki felt like this(maybe once he learned the man was a Nomu that pretty much sealed his ability to think of him as an actual person) but it goes to hammer in the fact that the league was just on a fundamental level not able to try to reach out and understand the motivations of each other.

the main exception to this, and the only one who seems to at least have wanted to understand everyone else is Twice, withouth any doubt the true heart of the League of Villains. The only one who everyone, even cold, brutal dabi considered a close friend.

he is the only one who understood Toga, who always opened his heart bare for the entire league, and when it seemed Hawks was about to join that number, he did everything he could to make him feel welcome and to actually understand what hawks was teaching him.

it's not a coincidence that it is when he dies, that the league really begins to come loose at the seams.

Dabi completely loses it in a way he hasnt done since the time he snapped and tried to kill shoto as a baby, and afterwards any and all morals and reservations completely evaporates in his heart, which is is replaced by a fire that doesnt go out until he literarily cant do anything anymore, having become a burnt out husk.

Toga as to confront the fact that she is living in a fantasy and has to actually commit to the league and it's goals or go her own way.

Mr compress tries to step up to fill in the void Twice left behind, but the grandpa of the group ultimately realizes that somebody is gonna have to sacrifice it all, and decides that like any good father figure, the duty will fall to him. Thus any wisdom he might have been able to impart to the next generation is lost when he becomes the next leaguer to fall right after twice.

But he could have shared these bits of wisdom at any time before this... his goals, his background, the origins of his unique insight into the world. But he didnt. only here, at the very end is he willing to put all of his cards on the table for the league he loved so much.

Spinner doubles down of his friendship to shigaraki, but in the process lets all of his other relationships in the league falter in the hour when they matter the most, when everyone needs to stick together, and by doing so ultimately fails shigaraki as well by not reaching out to him as he's suffering.

Withouth twice and compress, Shigaraki in his most critical hour, when the question of wheter he or AFO will rule this new body, has nobody who has no reservations about reaching out to him to try to be his emotinal support, with all the rest of the league literarily just standing by listening/staring at this mental battle as he suffers.

In essence, all of the leagues problems and weaknesses could have been solved if they had actually been willing to talk to each other to understand their respective ideas and goals in life.

Instead, they did the opposite of what the members of 1-A and aizawa did, and let everything foster and grow until the rot destroyed all of them from the inside out.

[imagines--galore]

resquest? as teenagers, peter parker and reader agree to marry if neither have by their 30th birthday.

follow peter as he attempts to sabotage every relationship reader has till then.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Fluff. None. A/N: I live for jealous Peter Parker :3 Also Anon didn't specify which Peter Parker so I kinda went with the MCU one! Hope thats alright!!!

Since the beginning of college you and Peter had just clicked. You had been drawn towards his slightly quirky persona. Honestly, when you had met him, you thought he looked like someone had kicked his puppy.

Though when he told you the real reason behind his external aura, loosing his mentor, his aunt dying, your heart went out to him. And later when you discovered he was Spiderman and learned how a spell had caused the world to forget who he was, you were surprised he hadn't shut himself away in a dark room and wallowed in self-pity.

That's what you would've done.

Yet, despite the loss, he wanted to go on with his life, and save people as well. And that only made you admire him more. So you attached yourself to Peter. At every turn, you made it your goal to make him smile or laugh whenever you had the chance. Slowly, very slowly, he seemed to be coming out of his bubble. At least he smiled more, and you made sure he ate and slept properly. And since the both of you shared a lot of classes together, you would help him with his work when he had to go off and be Spiderman.

The pact you two made, had been a result of a date that had stood you up saying he had a test to study for, only for you to catch him, moments later, sucking faces with another girl. You had only been dating for a month or so, but still it did hurt.

Besides you always looked for a reason to get yourself and Peter a little tipsy. You would mostly stay inside your rooms, and just get into drunken shenanigans that neither of you could remember the next day. It had only happened twice now, neither of you were alcoholics.

At the time of the pact, the two of you were only slightly drunk, smiling dopely at one another, and giggling at even the smallest thing.

Your words took him by surprise as you looked at one another. You held out your hand so you two could shake on it, but he shook his head.

"Nope, this requires proof." He warbled, getting to his feet as he went in search of his phone. He almost tripped en route, over his own feet. God, you were both such lightweights.

Once he got his phone, which you later realized was actually yours, he began to record. The camera was shaky and unsteady as he pointed it at you. You sat up, putting on your most serious face. Or as serious as you could get given your tipsy state.

"I, Y/n Y/l/n, promise to marry Peter Parker, if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty."

Once done, Peter turned the camera and raised a hand in the air as if he were swearing an oath.

"I, Peter Parker, promise to marry Y/n Y/l/n, if neither of us are married by the time we're thirty."

                                           ————————–

That was nearly five years ago, and now, having graduated college and already in the second year of your job, you watched the video with a nostalgic smile playing across your lips.

The two of you looked so young, then again at 18 years of age you definitely were. And the pact. Such an adorable thing to do when you were both sure neither of you would end up with anyone.

Though, that was still the case, given how you were still single as was Peter.

Once you graduated college, the two of you had decided it would be better to move in together. It was a good decision economically, and also because neither of you wanted to meet new people and open your respective can of worms.

Peter had no desire to share his secret with anyone else, and you had readily agreed to his suggestion on moving in. Though your motive had been slightly selfish, given the knowledge of anyone else knowing about Peter being Spiderman caused a little green monster to rear it's ugly head in your heart.

As you waited for Peter to get back home, you couldn't help but wander why none of your college relationships had worked out. And neither had Peter's for that matter.

Your mind drifted to your encounter with a coworker. You had had a few good moments where you flirted with him over a couple of weeks, and it had the potential to turn into something. But the day after you told Peter about it, you had gone to the office, only to be confronted by your would-be boyfriend.

He showed you a chain of texts, claiming you were off-limits and that you already had a boyfriend. You were confused at first, but then you recognized the number from which the messages had been sent, and you felt the color drain from your face. You had apologized to your co-worker, explaining it was your roommate's idea of a joke, but he seemed to think otherwise.

You had spent a long part of your work day simply thinking.

And now that you made an effort to think, you began to recall how every boy you had shown an interest in would suddenly start to distance themselves from you. It was college, so you figured no one wanted anything serious. But as the months went on and no boy seemed to take you seriously you had given up.

Maybe they all had someone threatening them as well?

Had Peter scared all those boys off? But why? Maybe he thought they weren't good enough for her?

Then again, the girls he had gone out with had all been wrong for him. Every last one of them. You ground your teeth as you thought about them, a frown creasing your forehead as you began to fix yourself a sandwich.

Whatever it was, you planned to confront Peter once he came back from patrol.

                                           ————————–

You had only begun to spread your favorite condiment on the piece of bread, when you heard the sound of something, or rather someone landing on the roof. Your apartment was on the top floor, so that Peter could easily enter through the skylight, which he now did, dropping into the middle of the living room in view of the adjacent kitchen.

"Sandwich?" You asked without missing a beat as he removed his mask. He gave a sound of affirmation before walking towards the fridge to grab a water bottle. Once he had chugged the entire thing, he turned his attention towards you.

"I think I may have caused a couple to get engaged today." He said, looking through the cupboards as he hunted for something to snack on. You let out a small laugh. "And how did you make that happen?" You asked, starting to make a sandwich for him as well.

"Well I was chasing this pick-pocket and I found the ring he had stolen from the guy's pocket. I took it back and handed it to him in front of his girlfriend. I mean yeah she said yes and everything, but the guy was a little disappointed. Said he had a whole thing planned." You gave a small laugh. "Yeah but think about the story they'll tell people. That Spiderman brought her ring to her. Can't top that."

Done making his sandwich, you nudged the plate towards him as you moved to sit on the small dining table. It only had two chairs since you rarely had guests over. He took the other chair, and began to eat before he had even sat down.

"Peter? Remember that co-worker I was telling you about?" You asked, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction. He paused in between his bite, before shrugging.

"Vaguely." Oh he was lying, you could tell.

"Yeah he came to me today and showed me these texts. And they said that I already have a boyfriend when I clearly don't." You set down your sandwich to look at him. He began to fidget in his seat, a telltale sign that he was nervous. "And the funny thing was they all came from a very very familiar phone number." You fixed him with a look. "And I wandered if you knew anything about that."

You weren't angry, more confused as to why Peter would do that. He stared at you, lips parted. "Y-you honestly haven't figured out why I did it?" He asked, his tone disbelieving as he too stopped eating his sandwich. You shrugged. "Its the reason I'm asking isn't it?"

Peter pursed his lips before speaking. "Its because of the same reason you don't let a girl speak more then ten words to me." You frowned. "Girls talk to you plenty Peter." You said with a roll of your eyes, leaning back against the back of your chair as you did. "And what reason? Honestly you're not making any sense."

Peter blinked. "You honestly don't know?" You shrugged again and shook your head.

A long stretch of silence followed, in which the two of you continued to stare at one another. Though Peter's gaze was much more intense then you had ever seen. And despite your best efforts, you could feel the heat of a blush creeping along your skin.

A sound of a chair scraping against the floor, followed by two determined strides which brought Peter directly in front of you. With one hand on the table, and the other tenderly holding your chin with the finger and thumb, Peter leaned down to kiss you.

Your breath hitched, your heart raced, your brain turned to mush, your eyes widened, your body stiffened and your blood ran hot.

Just as quickly as the kiss had begun it ended, with Peter leaning back and smiling at you. "That's why." With a brief brush of his thumb against your lower lip he was gone, leaving you with a racing heart, conflicting emotions and a realization.

                                           ————————–

A little while later you stood in front of his bedroom door, contemplating on whether you should knock or not.

Though that decision was lost to you once the door opened and there stood Peter. He paused at the threshold, probably not expecting you there.

The two of you were silent as you stared at one another. Suddenly you were looking at him in a new light. A light where every action every word and every gesture he had done in the past had had an underlying meaning behind it.

"Is there something there? Peter?" You asked, sounding a little unsure. He looked just as uncertain as you felt as he gave a small nod.

"There can be. If you want there to be." He added, leaving the entire decision up to you. Your heart raced and you gripped your hands. A shuddering breath fell from your lips before you closed your eyes. Gathering every ounce of strength that you had, you opened your eyes to meet his hopeful gaze.

"I do want something to be......there." His answering smile was wide and bright as he yanked you into a hug. You returned it with just as much emotion, burying your face in his neck and just inhaling his familiar scent.

"Though it might mean we'll have to honor the pact we made, since I won't ever be letting you go." You said against his skin, prompting him to laugh.

"There is no other place I'd rather be then by your side, Y/n." His words caused a pleased smile and a bright blush to stain your cheeks as you pulled back to give his chest a small smack.

"Don't go turning into a sap for me Peter."

"What? I'm not allowed to voice my undying devotion to you?"

"No! Peter just no!"

"I have defended your honor for so long, My Lady! And I shall die defending it."

"Get a grip Parker!"

"You wound me, Beloved."

"Stop it!"

He laughed as he foiled your attempt at escaping by wrapping an arm around your waist, and with a hand behind your head, he allowed your lips to align with his.

"Never!" He whispered, his breath hot against your sensitive lips. Your only reply was to close the distance left between the two of you, sealing your pact once again.

[modern-gremlin]

All of You | Lance - SDVE (Stardew Valley Expanded) MDNI. 🔞

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Pairing: Lance (SDVE) x f!reader Word Count: 6,334 (whew...) Warnings: Smut (basically porn with plot lol), talks of rough sex Tags: Established relationship, oral (male + female receiving), rough sex, creampie, little bit of fluff

SYNOPSIS Lance wants to have get rough in bed but doesn't want to take it too far, not until you give him permission to. A/N: Y'all, this is my first fanfic and of course I did smut as my first. :')) I’d appreciate feedback bc I wanna get better, but please be nice (im fragile) Listen, when I first played Stardew Valley Expanded, I KNEW I was just down bad for Lance. I absolutely simp for those pixels. This turned out to be WAY longer than I anticipated but oh well, I think I like how it is. Also, thank you so much @neet-elite for responding with writing tips. Your response really gave me the inspiration to just get up and write something I like. I appreciate you!

Before you knew it, you were getting railed harder than you've ever been railed in your life — let alone from your usually sweet and slow, doting boyfriend. It was only a week ago that you even broached the subject of rough sex; the culmination of late-evening pillow talk. Sex with Lance wasn't dissatisfying, in fact, it was probably the best you've ever had, you think to yourself. He is simply good at everything he ever attempts, and sexual endeavors would be no different.

Lance has a way of making you become undone. Planting kisses on your neck, trailing down your body until he reaches the wet spot between your thighs. Then he gauges your reaction; studies the way you pant heavier in anticipation, whine and shuffle your hips closer to his face until you're practically begging him to drown in you. Only then will he go in for the plunge. Lapping up your wetness like he's starved, lightly humming as he licks your clit. He slowly teases your wet cunt with his calloused fingers before shoving them deep into the part that makes you see stars. He always has to have you cumming at least twice before he even thinks about getting himself off. That's the way Lance is, that's just his routine.

You love that about him, always selfless and he always thinks about you first. It's a rare brand of kindness you don't often see in others, but he's particularly and lovingly considerate of you. It does, however, leave you wondering how you can be considerate of him. You hate to be a skeptic, but his kindness makes you wonder if he sacrifice his own needs to prioritize yours. It's something you've seen all too often, but Lance is never the type to complain, not explicitly at least. After finally getting together a year ago, you've learned a lot of his little mannerisms. His eyebrows cross slightly when he's confused, his shoulders tense to a specific position when he's stressed. Learning his habits gives you a sense of comfort and domesticity. So, you've taken from his playbook and began to study his reactions, and it was through this you've discovered something in particular.

Likely a result of his training, he never acts out of turn. Always the gentleman, he lets you set the pace and only lays his hands on you when you give explicit permission. This surprises you a little, honestly. While he's never been foolhardy, he always struck you as unwaveringly confident; an incredible flirt. He's a man who trusts his instincts and he's hardly every wrong in trusting them. So when he looks at you longingly, waiting for your permission to ravish you with his hands, clearly eager but hesitant, it's a little unexpected.

He always reassures you that he enjoys having sex with you when you ask, which is almost good enough to fool you. Clearly, you can see he enjoys it by his eagerness to go for another round and how easy it is for you to get him hard again. But something in the pained look on his face, maybe the furrow of his eyebrows or the regimented movements of his thrusts, makes you feel like there's something wrong.

These kind of thoughts have a funny way of eating away at you. And this thought in particular has been eating at you for a while now, until your worries spills out of you one night you've decided to keep him company at the Outpost. After exhausting scouting days, you've made a habit of keeping Lance company through his night watch duties. Though, you're likely more of a distraction than an aid but he doesn't mind it all. Nestling close to you in bed makes the cold stone walls of the tower feel like home, a concept he had a hard time defining until he met you. You find the same comfort in him, so naturally, your inner thoughts aren't kept secret from him for long.

"Lance?" you ask as sweetly as you can muster in spite of the obvious pit in your stomach. You wait for his response, counting the stone slabs across the ceiling while lying on his linen sheets. "Yes, my love?" he replies in reassuring tone — he's all too familiar with your anxious tells, though you're not sure what gave it away this time. "I want you to answer me honestly, even if it's not what I want to hear. I just genuinely want to know." You were just filled with so many questions, which soon turn into (rather irrational) assumptions. Maybe he's secretly unsatisfied with your relationship. Maybe there was something you did to upset him that you were unaware of. Just questions, questions, and more questions.

Despite quickly becoming his closest confidant since you've met him at the Caldura, it still feels like there's an air of mystery around Lance. He keeps his cards close to his chest, most likely for your own good. He lives a life of danger, and he doesn't want you in the crosshairs. But truly, you don't care. You're hopelessly in love with him. You'd rather dive head first into his life and be beside him, no matter where he stands. Besides, it's not like you're a stranger to the perils of adventuring yourself.

Your thoughts race fast as ever, and before you can go down another mental tangent, he does as he always does and brings you back to earth. "Of course. You have my word." He places his hand to your face and strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Ask away.” A weak smile forms on his face in an attempt to encourage you. "Are you...happy with me?" you feel your shoulders tense at your own question. He looks at you incredulously, mouth open, prepared to assure you, "You make me so happy, I mean i--" "It's...not that I don't believe you when you say that. In fact, I mean more like... are you s-satisfied with me?" you ask sheepishly. He furrows his eyebrows slightly, thinking of a way to ask you to clarify. "If you don't mean satisfied in happiness, what do you mean? Satisfied, in what way?" His question is earnest and borne from genuine curiosity, but it still makes you nervous to elaborate further. You fiddle with your fingers until you speak up once more.

"As in...sexually? I figure you enjoy it at least a little, otherwise I'd imagine you wouldn't be so eager to have sex with me as much as we do. But I have this feeling that maybe, you're holding back in some way? And if so, am I doing anything wrong?" You scan for answers within his purple eyes, but before long you're distracted by the way his face is illuminated by the dim lamplight. He truly is a beautiful man. If it weren't for the way you stare at him admiringly, you wouldn't have noticed the flush form over his tan skin. "N-no. I promise you, you have done nothing wrong. You are such a light in my life and I never want to take what we have for granted." He reaches to grab both of your hands and cups them between his own. "It's just — I have…rather-" Uncharacteristically, he stumbles over his words. It's your turn to reassure him now. You bring his hands to your cheek, your hands still cupped within his. "You can tell me."

He folds at your sincerity. "Well, sex with you is...fantastic. Truly." he states as the flush on his face deepens. "It might be selfish of me, but I love that there is a side of you only I can bring out. A part of you that is mine and mine alone." He looks into the distance, smiling lightly at memories of your earlier trysts. His words trail for a moment as he tries to collect his thoughts until you bring him back to focus.

"But...?" you gesture. He sighs deeply then continues your train of thought, "But there is... something. It's not dissatisfaction; not at all. It's more like... restraint." "Restraint?" You issue back.

He adjusts himself to sit upright against the headrest of the bed. "I've always been warned to be aware of my strength in my training. Whether it be in magic or in combat... Control is key. Otherwise you risk unnecessary danger. It's an ingrained rule when you're a member of the First Slash." His eyes dart towards to you, gauging whether or not you understand where the conversation leads. You shift yourself up to match his position against the headrest and look back at him curiously, which prompts him to continue.

"When I'm with you, I feel myself losing that control. I feel this need to completely... consume you. I don't want to hurt you or be selfish in any way. I hoped it wouldn't be so obvious, but I should know better than to think anything gets past you." He huffs a breathy laugh and gently places a comforting hand upon your thigh. You take a moment to take in his words before feeling profound sense of relief. You're relieved that his restraint isn't from something wrong you're doing, rather, it's about what you're doing right.

"So, what you're saying is...I didn't do anything to bother you then?" you ask, looking for confirmation. "No, far from it. Simply put, you drive me crazy in the best of ways." He lets out a light laugh to conceal a relieved sigh; as if a weight has been lifted from his admission. "Simply put, you want to go rougher on me? Is that it?" you retort back cheekily, mimicking his earlier tone. He laughs a bit louder this time, his thumb gently traces up and down movements against your thigh. In a teasing tone, you press him further on the matter, "Hmmm, I'll take your silence as a 'yes', then." You enjoy playfully pushing his buttons from time to time, but you genuinely to know what's on his mind. The flush on his face returns when he gives you a simple nod. A bashful Lance is a rare sight, so you can't help but grin at how coy he's being.

Clearing his throat to continue, "That being said, I don't want to hurt you. Ever. I don't think I would, but I-" "Let's do it, I know you won't hurt me," you say while interrupting his train of thought. Your eagerness causes his eyes to widen, slightly moving his hands to cover his erection that grows from your words. You're usually the one to be flustered by his brazenness, so you take much satisfaction at how the tables have turned this time. Your agreement clearly has him a little riled up, but he's doing as you observed again: he's eager but hesitant. You move yourself closer into him, prodding him to make a move. Swallowing thickly, he clears his throat to finish his thought, "I just... wonder if maybe I do lose control, I'll reveal a side of me that you're not familiar with. I don't... want to show you a side of me you didn't sign up for." His smile is a little more nervous now, but as he tries to avert his face from yours, you catch his chin and face him towards you. You drop your teasing tone and look into his eyes; you need him to know you mean what you’re about to say wholeheartedly. “Lance, you don't need to hold back from me. I've signed up for all of you. I mean it."

For a moment he just stares at you with the utmost love and admiration. He thinks himself to be one of the luckiest people in the world, lucky enough to have the privilege of loving someone entirely and have that love be returned. This admiration of you slowly turns into desire as he takes in the weight of your words. "All of me, hm?" He slyly retorts with a hum and half-lidded eyes. Staring at your lips, he leans in for a kiss. You press back at him, mouth open to take his bottom lip lightly within your teeth. The delicious sting on his lips causes him to moan into your mouth. His hands trail down your arms toward your waist, pulling you closer to meet the warmth of his chest.

Everything about him is intoxicating to you. The rumble of his voice, the smell of cedar and incense on his clothes, his familiar touch are all equal parts comforting as they are arousing. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss before pulling away. Looking into his eyes once more, forehead pressed to his, you give him an answer that quells his fears, "Yes. All of you."

The night's anxieties slowly dissipate with every touch you lay on each other. Both of your hands desperately trail each other's bodies; desperate to unearth any secrets left between you. Lance finds grip upon your waist to move you on top of him and you eagerly oblige. Your chest presses against his while you savor the taste of his lips, straddling the already-hard bulge beneath you. Every dive into each other's lips grinds you ever so slightly against his clothed cock, causing him to furrow his eyebrows and moan into your mouth. His moans are like an invitation for you to continue, the kind of invitation you’d never refuse. You grind your hips against his length, wetness from both your slick and his precum seeping through the clothes that separate you. In this moment, you could swear he’s Yoba themself by the way you pant and moan his name over and over again like a prayer. The friction of your dripping pussy rubbing his cock is so deliciously arousing, you nearly get lost in the feeling. But while you're in your lustful daze, Lance swiftly rolls your onto your back to assume his position over you.

His sapphire eyes now stare directly into yours, but this time they're darker. Almost wild, like an animal in heat. The sheer look of complete desire in his eyes causes you to bite your lip in excitement. He stands over you, breathing heavily. There’s that hesitation again, you think to yourself. You can just barely see him ease out of his intense gaze, only for a moment to gain enough composure. "By the gods, you're driving me crazy. Are you sure absolutely sure about this? You must tell me if I'm going too far," he says through ragged breath. You prop yourself up by the elbows to land a kiss on his lips again. "I will tell you if you're going too far. But I know you won't hurt me, I trust you."

You lean yourself flat against the bed once more and you unbutton the top of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra that's hidden beneath. You return a similar gaze back at him, staring intensely into his eyes, hoping to reignite the fire within them. His heart is beating out of his chest and he swears you can hear it, based on how your breathing is perfectly in rhythm to his. You desperately want make every part of him yours, and all of you, his. And your body responds to this want before your brain could keep up. Like a primal need that came to the surface, you instinctively press the front of your wrists together and obediently offer them towards him. “I want all of you, Lance. Make me yours."

This was the coup de grace; the spell that lifted the seal on whatever was left of his self-control. With one hand, he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head. The other holds your face in place for him to land a devastating kiss, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth. The intensity of his movements makes your skin tingle, sensitive to every touch. His weight above you is both comforting and restraining; he’s holding you down as if you’d float away the moment he lets go. Kissing you like he wants to devour you whole, sucking the air out of your lungs until you’re lightheaded under him. You’re already so love drunk that your eyes close, allowing you to sink into the pleasure. Suddenly he pulls away to cusp your face again as a way to grab your attention. “No, no, look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” His sudden movements shock your eyes wide open to meet that same, animalistic gaze. He wants you so badly, there’s no doubt in your mind. The thought makes you smile at him, catching your bottom lip with your teeth.

He takes deep satisfaction in the shift in your facial expression. “You’re so perfect. So good to me,” he says with a mixture of pure love and pure lust in his tone. His speech is low and drawn out now, still holding your face in his free hand. “So good. So obedient.” He frees your wrists and slowly trails your neck with his mouth, leaving marks wherever visible, hoping to deliver on his promise of claiming you as his. His prize, his woman, his pretty little slut, and his wife if you let him.

He continues to plant spots of red across your chest until he’s stopped by the collar of your shirt, slightly unbuttoned from your earlier display. He claws at the buttons frantically to get it off of you as soon as possible. His movements are uncharacteristically imprecise, so much to the point he resorts to ripping the buttons off in his fervor. You’ll have to worry about your shirt later, but for now, you’re much too aroused by his desperation to care. You help him unhook the clasps of your bra and he discards it behind him. Finally, your breasts were freed and his for the taking.

Without hesitation, he grasps both of your breasts in each of his hands, grazing his thumbs over the sensitive peaks. You throw your head back and whine from the sudden stimulation only to be put over the edge by the sensation of his mouth lightly biting at your nipple. His tongue flicks and circles at your bud erratically. The sensation sends jolts through your body causing you to instinctually pull away. Before you can move, he catches you by your shoulder and holds you in place. “L-Lance,” his name escapes your mouth in an elongated moan as you’re overwhelmed by his tongue. “Stay put for me, love. Can’t let you get away.” He turns his attention to you other breast, licking and sucking on the bud while gently pinching the other with his thumb and index.

He only pulls away to free himself from his uniform. With a swift tug, he removes his top to reveal his muscular body. His skin looks beautiful in this light, smooth but adorned by light scars from his years of combat. You let out a deep sigh from the sight; it feels like you’re seeing him naked for the first time. You’ve seen it so many times before, but tonight his body was so painfully, incredibly sexy to you.

He isn’t faring so well himself. The act of taking his shirt off gave him just enough distance to soak in the full sight of you. Already with a lust-struck expression, huffing and panting from just teasing you, covered in marks he just freshly laid upon you. This sight alone is enough to make him nearly feral, he practically has to fight for his life to not immediately shove his throbbing cock deep inside you. He’s holding back, but not from fear this time. His concealed fantasies cloud his mind; the thought of ruining you, plowing into you so hard that his cock is the only thing you remember, and filling your perfect cunt to the brim with his seed. He’s determined to bring the love of his life down to the same level of depravity he secretly harbored since the day he first met you, and to do that, he needed to be patient. Even if his cock is begging to be buried to the hilt inside you.

Suddenly, he’s acutely aware of how tight his pants have become and decides to discard them as well. You watch as he hurriedly pulls the fabric past his ankles, instantly locked to his handsome form. Your eyes follow his V-Line to the clear outline of his fat cock, bulging through his boxers already soaked in precum.

Just as quickly as he dispatched of your shirt, he pulls off your jeans and throws them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. You shudder at the cool draft of the room on your exposed thighs, emphasizing the mess of slick drenching your underwear. You've been naked around him countless times before, but the way he eyes you up and down makes you feel more than desired by him; it feels like you're the object of his obsession. His angel's pretty pussy is ready and drenched in front of him, lewdly displayed and eager to be fucked. If only you knew how badly he wants to ruin you in this moment.

He leans forward to match his face to yours, his tongue grazing his teeth looking at you with a cocky smile. "Look at you. Do you know how wet you are?" he questions almost condescendingly. Before you can respond, he quickly sneaks his hand under your panties and drags two fingers across your cunt, picking up your wetness to show you. "See? So wet for me and we've only just started." His touch makes you convulse and whine his name, like you're begging him to give you more. He knows you need him so badly, and your cunt is already so wet he could slide his fat cock into you with ease. But he as other plans. Just a little more, he thinks to himself. Just a little more.

"You want me, darling? Do you want me to make you feel good?" He says as he licks his fingers clean, feeling a high from your taste. Something about his teasing attitude and his refusal to give into your usual tells has you at your limit. You place your hands gently on his face with a pleading look in your eyes. "Please, Lance," you beg through ragged breathe. "I need you so bad. I'll be good, just-- Please, fuck me."

He has you right where he wants you. He has you feeling as hungry and desperate as he is whenever you're alone together. He stares right into your soul, like he's hypnotizing you to do his bidding. "Show me, then. Be good for me and get on your knees." Without hesitation, you drop yourself to the stone floor, knelt in front of him as he sits on the edge of his bed. You're obedient, waiting for his next command because you'd do anything to have your sweet release. You'd do anything satisfy the deepest parts of him. With a smile, he plants a kiss on your forehead as a reward for your compliance.

"Good, now take them off," he orders as he gestures to his boxers. He lifts himself to give you room to take his boxers off and you pull them in one quick movement. His cock springs free upon its release and gently smacks against your face, smearing precum against your forehead. In this position, you realize how big he really is. So girthy and long; it's no wonder why he makes you feel full to the brim when he's inside you. The weight of his erection resting on your face is oh so tempting, you just have to take a taste. You drag your tongue against his balls all the way to his wetted tip. Lance throws his head back, leaning on his arms to ground himself from the earth-shattering sensation you've provided him.

To think, this man who's known for his well-studied vocabulary is now whispering profanities under his breath. "F-fuck, not too h-hasty, hm?" He feigns confidence even though his stutter reveals how truly whipped he is by you. You know you could make him fold to your whim if you kept going despite his attempts to slow you down, but tonight, you want him to have you exactly as he wants to. So you pout up at him, looking almost apologetic for your impatience. Once he regains his composure, he grabs the base of his cock and presses it further onto your face. "Let me see your tongue, darling. Stick it out for me."

You stick your tongue out close enough to his leaking cock that you can basically feel the heat radiating off him. And without warning, he slaps his cock several times on your tongue before easing it into your mouth to the back of your throat, coating it with his precum. The speed in which his girth fills your mouth takes you by surprise, so much so you almost pull away but Lance's large palms cradle the back of your head, preventing your escape. The feeling of his fat cock in the back of your throat borders on uncomfortable, but the feeling of his shape clearly articulated in your mouth makes your pussy leak onto the floor. He holds you there until tears well in your eyes and quickly pulls away when he notices them falling onto your cheek. For a moment, he looks down at you with panic, wondering if he had gone too far. He'd feel so guilty if you hated this, and feels even more guilty that he finds your tear and saliva covered face so frustratingly hot. But then you clear your throat and meet his gaze with grin plastered on your face, drool still dripping from your lips. "You like it when I choke on it, hm?" you say in a slur of words, already cum drunk. He looks back at you, returning your grin and lets out a shallow laugh.

You stick your tongue out again, ready for more. As he buries his cock into your throat, he's completely overwhelmed by the warmth of your mouth and your unabashed acceptance of him. He's so grateful to see you smile at his roughness and he's prepared to reward you in kind. His pace is slow at first, pulling out until your lips meet the base of the head, just to shove it deeply to where it belongs. He only starts to speed up when you grip the back of his thigh with one hand, the other gently massaging his balls. The sensation of it is all too much to bear; the shallow fucks into your throat nearly makes him cry from pleasure. If he were to look at you now, watching you take the whole of his length through your pretty lips, he knew it'd be over for him. As a renown warrior, his endurance would usually easily outmatch any opponent, but right now, he could burst in your mouth right this instant and coat your throat in white. He grits his teeth and groans your name with every thrust, just barely holding onto his bearings. He could probably die happy if he were to force his load down your throat right now, but he realizes there are much better places inside you for his seed to go.

He was dangerously close when he pulls out of your mouth. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his cock. Sweat dripping off his brow to land on your face beneath him. Only now does he notice your absolutely fucked out expression. Your eyes are half-lidded, high off of his scent and taste. The grip of his hand on your hair tugged on a primal need you didn't know you had. All the while, you rubbed circles around your clit so rapidly that it left a puddle on the floor. To Lance, this scene was a work of art; he had to pause to take in every detail so he could replay this moment for the rest of his life.

Taking your cheeks in his hands, he pulls your face into a deep kiss. "You're...so beautiful," he breathily praises you against your lips. "You've proven yourself to me. Now, let me be good to you." You can barely speak in your aroused state, all you can muster is a weak nod and a "Yes, please." You surrender yourself into his arms as he lifts you to lay you back on the bed, spreading your legs to position himself in between. For a second, he looks down at how completely soaked your panties are — how they stick to the skin of your cunt so perfectly that he can make out its entire shape through them. Pulling the cloth to the side, he slaps his cock against your puffy clit, causing the both of you to whine and groan in unison. He stands at the threshold, on the precipice of completely entering you. You think he’s teasing you by the way he rubs his cock on your slit, but really, he’s teasing himself. You’ve given him something valuable today; an unrestricted exploration of his deepest fantasy with you. The night feels like it lasted an eternity and matter of seconds at the same time. How could his fantasies be happening so quickly? He prods at your entrance, hoping to prolong the experience. You can tell his own patience has reached its end by the way his face unabashedly scrunches in desperation. This is the moment you've both been waiting for all evening, ready to face your absolute high. "Are you ready, my love?" he asks while licking his lips. You nod enthusiastically and beg, "Yes, Lance. Please. Please, fuuc-"

Before you can get the words out, he grabs the fat of your thighs and quickly slams his cock into your tight hole until it hits the deepest part of you. Waves of complete and utter pleasure wash over you, causing you to arch your back and roll your eyes to the back of your head. Your mouth opens to whine but his size knocked the wind out of you. Just seconds ago you were empty, waiting eagerly for his touch and now you are filled entirely by him. He rests himself inside your convulsing pussy, already milking him dry despite the fact neither of you are moving. You’re too overwhelmed by his intrusion to notice there’s tears running down Lance’s face. All the years of experience under his belt go to shit the moment he enters you, and suddenly it’s as if he’s a virgin again. He’s just so goddamn in love with you, he needs to bury himself deep enough inside you so you understand how much you mean to him. He needs to fuck every doubt that you’re not perfect for him out of your mind. He remembers what you said earlier, and decides he wants to do the same. Tonight he’ll have all of you.

Right from the start, his pace is punishingly fast. His little game of teasing you has long been over and now he's ready to fully consume you. Sounds of sex fill around the room — the slamming of his thighs against your ass as he plows balls deep into your cunt over and over again. The squeak of his bed threatening to give way at the tenacious rhythm of his thrusts. The sound of your leaking pussy making a mess of the sheets below you. The lewdness of it all rings so deeply in his ears that he, himself, can’t contain his grunts. Nothing else in the world matters except his angel beneath him, screaming his name as he fucks her to ecstasy.

The sight of you now is more alluring than anything he could have imagined. He watches the way your pretty cunt obediently takes every inch of his cock as it disappears inside you. You’re covered in marks he left on your body, your tits violently bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, and to top it off, you’ve been whimpering his name nonstop since he plunged inside you. He loves the way he completely occupies your mind now — a physical confirmation that right now you’re his alone. All of this is deliciously perfect, so he knows it’s greedy of him to want more, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop until you’ve creamed on his cock. Not until you’ve taken every drop of his cum inside you.

He pounds into you again, again and again, relentlessly until he feels your cunt clench tighter around him. You can’t think straight, not when he bullies himself against your cervix like this. Your convulsions are a dead giveaway you’re close and he’s determined to shake you to your core. His pace not letting up, he uses one hand to rub quick, circular motions against your clit while the other has a bruising grip on your waist. “Come on love,” he coaxes you with ragged breath, “Cum for me. Cum on my cock… you’re so fucking tight, please-“ and finally, sweet release. Your back arches again as you feel yourself reaching your peak, tears rolling out of your eyes. He slows his pace to fuck you through your high, almost pulling out fully before thrusting deep strokes into all the spots that make you burst.

He stays inside you as you come down from your orgasm, leaning forward to wipe the tears from your face tenderly. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Hold on just a little more for me, okay?” he says softly, “Just. A little. More.” thrusting in between each word. It’s still not enough for him but he’s oh so close. Leaning himself upward again, he grabs your wrists in each of his hands to pull you deeper onto his cock. Ignoring the fact you just came and resuming his tempo. Your pussy is just too good for him to stop now, he still has to reward you for obedience today.

And reward you he shall. Like a good slut, your cunt squeezes and pulls him back in, pulling him closer and closer to his limit. Closer to claiming you, closer to marking your insides with his cum and making you his little wife. Your glazed over, fucked out eyes meet his as pounds your messy cunt harder and harder. He can hardly make out your ramblings over the sound of his body pounding into yours, but when your words finally register, it sends him over the edge. “I love you so much. It’s s-so fucking good. It’s too fucking good” you mumble shakily. Everything about your demeanor screams for him to impregnate you, to fill you your grateful pussy to the brim until it drips out of you. His movements are getting sloppy now, fucking as deep as your cunt will let him. The relentless pounding sends you back into a frenzy, as if your first orgasm prolonged itself enough to reach another high.

He’s absolutely about to burst from the way your pussy clenches around him again. But before he does, he pulls you forward by your wrists so you have a perfect vantage point of where your two bodies connect, watching how his length disappears into you. “Look a-at us. Look how you well you take it for me. Now take all of me, okay? I’m gonna…fucking…fill y-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before he bullies fat cock the back of your cunt and spilling his seed right against your cervix. His words are caught in his mouth from the immense pleasure; all he can stifle are loud groans and some semblances of your name in gravelly whispers. Warm semen filling your spasming cunt, shoving his cock in small rocks of his hips as if to prevent any of his seed from escaping. He releases his grip on your wrists to collapse on top of you, lying flush against your body, still spilling spurts of white into you.

You wrap your arms around him to pull him closer and rub circles on his back. Both of you are panting messes from the night’s intensity, but the afterglow makes it so worth it. He coils an arm around your back and nestles his face into the crook of you neck. Only then is he able to speak breathily against your skin, “I…love you…more than you can ever imagine.” Your eyes dampen at his sincerity and you whisper I love you’s while running soothing fingers through his red hair. For a moment the world is completely silenced — only the sound of your tired voices occupy the spaces in your mind. In this space, only you and Lance matter.

Once he finds the strength, he pulls himself up only enough to bring your face into view. “Thank you. For accepting me, for giving me something to call home,” he says as he presses a kiss to your forehead. You take his face in your hands and press your lips to his, hoping your gratitude can reach him through your action. Because truly, you are grateful. So grateful to have met someone who encourages your ambitions unapologetically. Someone who never aims to control you but support you when you need it. Someone who loves and sees you first. You’re so overwhelmed by gratitude, you nearly cry into his arms.

You’re comforted by his familiar touch, stroking the side of your shoulder with his thumb. This moment is both so incredibly special and completely ordinary at the same time. Because this is how you always feel around him, so special, so full of love. You didn’t flinch once at Lance’s words before the night’s activities started, not at all, because that feeling of wanting consume him is all too familiar to you. If he’d let you, you’d have him for the rest of your life. With a smile, you hum into his ear before you whisper, “Thank you for being mine, thank you for everything.”

He replies with a simple word, but you hang onto its weight like a promise, “Always.”

[imminent-danger-came]

Hot take, but I think MK is only focused on the city/innocent people mainly because of how it contributes to his vision of a "hero". Like yeah, obviously he cares, but he's so much more focused on his own life and his own friends rather than the greater good (which, valid). Like I think of instances like the end of 2x03, where they distinctly don't help clean up after Pigsy's ping-pong relapse, and the fact that we've only seen MK helping strangers TWICE in the whole show (2x05, where he attempts to stop spider queen by aiding who he thinks is an innocent girl, and those old ladies in 4x01, partly a result of his guilt over LBD), and it's just like. My mans is not his own definition of a hero ("We help people! I mean I- I help people!").

In AHIB MK steals a civilian's hover bike, and he didn't give it back (we see it show up again in 1x09). In 1x01 it's "What about my friends? The city? They're all counting on me!", with his friends notably first. In 4x02 Azure highlights "It's too late to save them! We can't risk unleashing the curse into the world!" to which MK replies "You don't know, we'd risk it for sure!". MK has already chosen his friends over the world. He'll do it again. I think of the end of s3 and his words: "The perfect world is what you make it—so as long as I have my friends by my side, this world! Is! Perfect!".

MK has spent the first 4 seasons of this show maintaining the status quo. Unlike the Lady Bone Demon and Azure, who try to bring about real change, MK is reactionary. He has to be pushed into taking action or solving problems. He's fixing what other people break rather than taking a stand himself. MK doesn't embody a typical selfless hero—which, tbh he doesn't need to, it's why I find him so interesting. He's so obsessed with being the hero and being a "good guy" that he's almost missed the trees for the forest.

Like, MK's defining moment as a "hero" who helps others (set up in 2x07) is saving Mei in 3x10. Saving his best friend. The only reason he had the determination to reach out to Mei at all was because she was so close to him. We see something similar to samadhi fire Mei play out in 4x14 with Jade Emperor Azure, and MK doesn't save him. MK let's Wukong stop him from reaching out to Azure. Azure dies.

I love this guy

[polarisblitzwing]

WELCOME TO THE FRI3NDSFOR3VER AU

Ford's World - Dimension Fri3nds46/’

◇ Alternative Earth Variant ◇

● Humans have wings and feathered tails

● Alternative Pines family decisions timeline

◇ Stanford Pines ◇

● Ford is a minor god of dreams and a self-proclaimed god of anomalies

● 30 years old here (Young Immortal)

● Met Bill when he was 5 due to him attempting an interdimensional dreamwalk link, with Bill trying the same thing by chance, something that wouldn't work at their age without each other

◇ Gods Among Them ◇

● Most gods were mortals whose power was drawn to them like a magnet due to their personality in some way

● Fairly secretive and prefer to hide their works

● Rely on their believers to notice their efforts, resulting in an increase in power

● Can reveal themselves to the public, but building up power from faith alone is more sustainable for less powerful gods

● Stop aging between 25 and 100 (depending on what age someone wants to live forever)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Bill's World - For3verEuclydia

◇ Alternative Euclydia Variant ◇

● 360 years is the average lifespan of a Euclydian in this au

● No massacre

◇ Bill Cipher ◇

● Bill is a minor god of dreams and a self-proclaimed god of weirdness

● 30 years old here (Young Immortal)

● Met Ford and Stan when he was 5

◇ Gods Among Them ◇

● Only gods have wings and tails as a power symbol

● Their wings and tails are invisible to anyone that doesn't believe in them specifically

● “Omnipotent” Euclydian gods only know everything about their own world. Bill's knowledge of the third dimension is seen as false teachings to even them.

◇ Bill’s Family ◇

● Scalene is a goddess of Truth and Euclid is a god of Reality

● No one believes Bill is a god except his parents, as godhood is a power grant at birth to someone who the power is drawn to here. It can skip generations.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

NOW, ON TO THE ACTUAL DIALOGUE FOR THIS DRAWING! FANFIC TIME ~

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Bill: So here's my problem - I need to show them the stars. It gets real flat to hear “you're delusional, Bill” and “stop talking about a third dimension!” “Shh, you're gonna get arrested!” “It's not real!” Over and over again. It's time to change up the law and their perspectives.

Ford: Hmm.. that'll be quite the endeavor. You might need more power for that.

Bill: Ohh-ho-oh, definitely. Some of my ideas get real difficult along the way. The kind of stuff only a god with twice my power could pull off. 

[ Pulls up a holographic board with his first idea. ] 

Bill: If I could turn their eyes towards the stars and give them the same vision as I do, that'd be ideal. 

[ Ford manifests a danger sign over Bill's board; a buzzer sounds in warning. ]

Ford: Doing that to the entirety of Euclydia could potentially be devastating. Even if you get that newfound power, without centuries of diligent practice, you could end up permanently mutilating thousands of people in the process. Too risky. 

Bill: Uuugh… even if the people I wanted to show the most were immortal too, I don't think I could put up with more of their talk for that long. It has to be this century.

Ford: I get where you're coming from. I’ll do my best to make sure it happens when we figure out a plan that won’t have too many risks involved.

Bill: I could probably have the world dream of stars if you help, but that isn’t real enough to me. It drives me crazy that I can’t see you in real life. 

Ford: We’ll meet one day, I promise it. 

Bill: I sure hope so, Sixer. 

[ Pulls up two more holographic charts. ] 

Now.. back to my list of extremely great ideas.. what if I put really tiny stars in the world and contained the heat? Or flipped the world on the y-axis just to prove a third dimension exists first?

[ Ford manifests two more warnings in succession. ]

Ford: Could easily start a fire if anything went wrong, and for all we know, flipping the world vertically could cause everything to fall bottom to top infinitely until it’s fixed. Also runs the risk of killing a lot of Euclydians. Not to mention there could be other forces in your space that could affect the world.

Bill: Yeesh. Alright then, you got any ideas?

Ford: Actually, come to think of it.. 

[ Ford summons a hologram with a vision of his own forming. ]

Maybe instead of dreams, we tried something just a step up from multi-dimensional dream-walking, something like astral projection. We bring them out of their bodies, but tethered to their world, into space. Without the limitations of their physical forms, their eyes should be able to see more than what they could before.

Bill: SIXER, YOU'RE A GENIUS!!!

Ford: Hah, well, I try.  

Bill: NOW THAT'S SOMETHING I COULD ACTUALLY PULL OFF RISK FREE! It might take splitting up the days people get to see it, but, they’ll finally see.

Ford: Well, hold on, splitting up the days could be risky for the groups who see versus who don’t on the first day, so, here's what I'll do. I'll give you my powers for as long as you need them for this. I would like to help personally, but I’d need to physically be there. This will be my contribution to your paradigm shift for Euclydia.

Bill: ..you really trust me that much? 

Ford: (smiles and nods) Of course. You're my best friend, my muse, the sun in my galaxy, Bill. I want you to be happy.

[ Ford offers his hand and godly powers out to his partner. ]

Bill: (chuckles, smiling) You’re the best, Fordsy.

[ They shake on it. ]

[yallemagne]

Luthur (Lucy/Arthur) Propaganda

I'm writing this with all the pent-up rage of an entire year of seeing "Lucy's so dumb, she should have picked my favourite suitor" posts and "who should Lucy have chosen?" polls that always result in practically no votes for Arthur.

This is not an anti-Jack or anti-Quincey post by any means, though it may come across as defensive. It is just a pro-let-Lucy-choose-for-herself post. And yes, letting her choose for herself even includes letting her be monogamous when she has made the conscious decision to remain monogamous.

So, to the proposal descriptions--

Seward tries to hide his anxiety by putting up a front of sternness. From how Lucy describes it, it sounds like he's negotiating a contract:

He spoke to me, Mina, very straightforwardly. He told me how dear I was to him, though he had known me so little, and what his life would be with me to help and cheer him. He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. Then he broke off and asked if I could love him in time; and when I shook my head his hands trembled, and then with some hesitation he asked me if I cared already for any one else. He put it very nicely, saying that he did not want to wring my confidence from me, but only to know, because if a woman's heart was free a man might have hope. And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.

Sounds like he hardly popped the question so much as stated: "I would be honoured to have you (I need you I need you I need you I need you) as my wife. If you don't love me back, I will die."

This proposal comes across as very neurodivergent to me. He goes into it thinking mostly about what he wants from Lucy and how good the marriage would be for his mental health, not stopping to consider if she's already seeing someone (literally the man who introduced them) or just maybe... that he's putting too much of a burden on her with this style of proposal. This approach would work better with another no-nonsense B, but Lucy is overwhelmed. He didn't think of her feelings in the matter because he was too busy schooling his own emotions so he wouldn't screw it all up. It comes across as very scripted until he sees that he's upset Lucy-- that is when we get a glimpse of his care for her. But then he's back to his bullet points of "but could you love me one day? do you love another now? on a scale from one to ten, how would you rate this interaction?"

Lucy gets through Seward's entire proposal without getting carried away and writing about Arthur instead, but with Quincey--

I suppose that we women are such cowards that we think a man will save us from fears, and we marry him. I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me. No, I don't, for there was Mr. Morris telling us his stories, and Arthur never told any, and yet—— My dear, I am somewhat previous.

She certainly finds Quincey charming, but she cuts herself off to talk about Arthur. While she momentarily thinks that telling adventurous tales would win a woman's heart, she says that it didn't win her own. There's a sort of peacocking going on with Quincey prefacing his proposal with tales of his adventures. It's very much like Seward's stoic attempt but with far more confidence and pizzazz.

Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now. 

Quincey "found [her] alone". Now, before, she said "Mr. Morris was telling us his stories"-- who is us? I am guessing that perhaps Lucy's mother or someone else was sitting in as a chaperone? And then Quincey found an opportunity to talk to her in private?

Again, she drifts off talking about Arthur while she's trying to explain Quincey. "Arthur tried twice to make a chance"-- my best guess for what this means is that Arthur has tried to have un-chaperoned time with Lucy twice before in order to propose to her, but he never succeeded despite her attempts to aid him.

Which makes this all so much funnier? Some joke that the Suitors probably arranged it all, but this hints that Arthur has been trying his damndest to propose, but the one day he actually gets a chance to, he finds out his two friends proposed to her first! Those dogs!!

I do not know myself if I shall ever speak slang; I do not know if Arthur likes it, as I have never heard him use any as yet.

Lucy interrupts her "haha the silly American talks silly American gibberish" with "would Arthur like it if I spoke this way?" Gah, she's so in love with him. It's funny that she says she's never heard him use slang considering she's already mentioned "Dress is a bore." which she even called slang.

Well, he did look so good-humoured and so jolly that it didn't seem half so hard to refuse him as it did poor Dr. Seward; so I said, as lightly as I could, that I did not know anything of hitching, and that I wasn't broken to harness at all yet. Then he said that he had spoken in a light manner, and he hoped that if he had made a mistake in doing so on so grave, so momentous, an occasion for him, I would forgive him. [...] And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times. I suppose he saw something in my face which checked him, for he suddenly stopped, and said with a sort of manly fervour that I could have loved him for if I had been free...

She remarks that Quincey's more light-hearted nature makes him easier to refuse than Seward. However, she finds it harder to reject him when he drops the act and starts behaving more earnestly. She finds it easier to imagine loving him when he's being sincere. She doesn't have this same thought with Seward because, unfortunately, even when he snapped out of his legal negotiation of the potential marriage, he still kept himself emotionally guarded through the rest of the interaction.

Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble? But this is heresy, and I must not say it.

I must say... Lucy here is not saying "I want a harem of men.". Stop. Just stop saying that she is. That interpretation has led to every single adaptation that brands her an insincere cheater who strings along men and deserves to be punished by the narrative. Just stop. What she is expressing here is guilt at not having an option that would please all parties involved. She's been raised as a people-pleaser, but in this scenario, there is no choice she could make that wouldn't lead to someone being hurt. So, she makes the decision to follow her heart rather than her guilty conscience.

And think, just earlier, Jack planted this seed of insecurity by saying that he'll be upset if she does not love him. And then goes even further to imply her loving another robs him of his hope. It makes it so that, even when Quincey is more gracious in accepting her refusal, she can't help but beat herself up for practically destroying these men's lives (hyperbole, of course) all for her own happiness!!

Lucy clearly displays polyamorous traits. She laments that, if she did not love Arthur so much, she could love Quincey (rip Seward). But she has chosen not to explore those feelings. Part of her cutting herself off while writing about Quincey to talk about Arthur could be subconsciously reminding herself: "nope, there is no chance with him, I want Arthur". She compares the two constantly as if to remind herself she made the right choice. There's also her love for Mina, but she has plausible deniability in this era and can claim that as just classic girl love.

But when she considers a woman marrying "as many men as want her" it is not reflective of her being polyamorous because she doesn't have this thought out of "I love these three men enough to marry them" but "I feel guilty about being loved by three men at once, and I have to repay the favour somehow, but I can't". She does not say "as many men as she wants" because it's not about the woman's feelings but about the feelings of the men that surround her. But you know what? She showed agency when she picked the man she wanted and didn't bow and pick the man who would be the most devastated upon being rejected, and I'm proud of her.

Lucy is incredibly brief when describing Arthur's proposal, but let's. just. think about this. Previously, she has tried to hold back her overwhelming love for Arthur in her writing to Mina (she failed, lol). Other than wanting to be discreet, she explains:

My dear, this quite upset me, and I feel I cannot write of happiness just at once, after telling you of it; and I don't wish to tell of the number three until it can be all happy.

She doesn't want to taint her happy feelings with bitterness about how "oh, I'm so horrible and selfish for picking the man I love! I don't deserve to be loved by anyone!" And even then, she goes into a bit more detail in her post-script:

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

Such a friend. Before this, Seward and Quincey were not friends of Lucy's. They were acquaintances that knew her through Arthur (though she does not explicitly state this about Quincey, so she could have met him somewhere else?), and upon being rejected romantically, they swore friendship to her. Before then, they saw her as a potential bride.

But Arthur was already a friend to Lucy. They have been close for longer than she's known either of her other suitors, and while they'd never said the L-word (love) to each other before, I think what wins Lucy's heart is that Arthur is genuine with her. We don't get to see it (she teases us!! how dare!!), but that feels like the most plausible thing that would set him apart from Seward and Quincey. Now, the other two are honest men (we see it when they comfort her), but they both initially put up a front to impress/entertain Lucy. Meanwhile, Arthur doesn't bother with that. He comes into the room, and she's practically already in his arms! It's so effortless with him. She doesn't have to imagine herself being happy and in love with him because she already is.

[dungeonegg]

Congratulations on your recent return from the dead! As one of the lucky few who’ve achieved such a thing, you’ve earned some special little bonuses. Of course, there’s a second chance at life, though admittedly the paperwork will likely be a pain and reintegration isn’t always a smooth go, but also you’re now eligible to partake in Dungeons! And as we all know, that means getting to discover your own unique set of skills to aid in traversing the Dungeons.

Of course, stumbling into the mysteries of the Tragic Twelve was never part of the speel they gave you when you became a Player. Nor was the sudden contracts with the deceased members of Nilrex Guild, the Players whose massacre revealed a truth no one wanted: you only get two tries at life.

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

Play as a newly returned to life Player with necromatic abilities

Get adopted by a trouble magnet with floppy ears and a habit of stowing away in order to escape said trouble.

Figure out the mystery of the Tragic Twelve - a series of traumatic events that resulted in the involved Players 'retiring' and refusing to enter Dungeons, assuming they didn't end up ultimately vanishing from the face of the earth. The culmination of these tragedies, the Nilrex Guild Annihilation, was the first time anyone realized that Players who die die.

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

This is my first attempt at IF. Things will change and honestly, I'm figuring things out along the way in terms of characters and whatnot. Honestly I'm not sure if there will be any elements of romance in this.

Updates are likely to be on the slower side. I work two jobs and don't have days off.

Honestly, I'm not entirely sure if this will be ChoiceScript or Twine. Since this is my first IF, I'm not at all familiar with how the coding process works on either platform so it'll be a matter of which one I understand in the end.

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

CW: child death, more CW will be added as they arise!

-Danny Danny, as the sole survivor of Nilrex, has been deemed MIA by the public, leading to plenty of speculation as to whether or not they were involved in the massacre. However, when you find yourself in danger, it's Danny who keeps you alive. Does that mean they plan to stick around? No, not at all. But with your new allies refusing to let you leave Danny be, it's certain that Danny's going to be playing a role in your life. Whether that's something Danny wants or not remains to be seen.

-Rowe The mysterious guild leader of Nilrex, Rowe may have died twice already but that doesn't mean they're about to let that stop them. Despite their best efforts to appear the least of the guild, there's a reason they led so many whacky, frankly overpowered, Players without anyone staging an uprising. At least, a serious uprising. Apparently Fridays were 'stage a coup' days. Regardless, Rowe's leading you down a path, just like they did the guild. Where that path leads remains to be seen.

-Divondra The drag queen vice guild leader of Nilrex, even a second death won't stop Divondra. Wrangling the guild members may be what Divondra was best known for, but there's certainly more to them than just that. Divondra's always been Rowe's greatest help, whether that's been in terms of things with the guild or just in general life, but will they do the same for you?

-Tallulah Past, present, or future, Tallulah's the crankiest healer you'll ever meet. The oldest known Player, she's quite simply fed up. And quite frankly, she doesn't care to try and hide that in the least. Even so, without Tallulah, the guild would've been in trouble a whole lot more than they were. Because while Tallulah will gladly tell you how you messed up when you get injured, serious injuries are likely to get her attention, particularly if you manage to get on the short list of those she gives an ounce of care about. So will you make it onto that list?

Alouette -The peacemaker of Nilrex, Alouette is the calming influence, the patient ear, the shoulder to cry on, and the waiting hug for comfort. She's also five pounds of hidden craziness when someone messes with the guild. Alouette has a frustrating habit at being good, if not excellent, at most things she tries but she won't rub that in your face. No, instead she'll just encourage you to try all sorts of new things. Does that mean you'll get dragged along according to her whims at times? Yes, yes it does. But where exactly those whims lead? Well, that you'll have to tag along to find out.

Zykelle -Zykelle's probably the biggest doofus you'll find but he's got a good heart and will always step up to keep others safe. Part overgrown puppy, part personal cheer squad, Zykelle's always there when you need someone. Are his ideas always the best? Not necessarily. They've been known to blow up in his face at times. Does that bother him? Not in the least! Sometimes it's funnier even, once you're out of danger that is. And really, that smiling moment of peace is all Zykelle really needs. Care to find out how often he'll bring that about for you?

Aidan -Nilrex's resident chaos gremlin and trouble making prankster, Aidan is one you cannot take your eyes off of if you want things to go 'smooth' or 'peacefully'. But if you're looking for a fun time or a laugh? He's your guy. If there's any sort of mayhem to be found, you can bet Aidan's going to be smack dab in the middle of it. becoming Aidan's partner in crime however means you've got all the insanity he brings along on your side, rather than against you. So just how many people will the two of you drive nuts?

Addy -The baby sweetheart of Nilrex, Addy loves everyone she meets and is never seen without some kind of animal or creature near by. Addy always sees the best in everyone and everything. But it's best to remember that while Addy herself tends to be on the more harmless side, her 'friends' don't always fall into that same category. Addy's got a habit of opening people up to new experiences and you can bet that she'll be there with you through any aftermath of it too. Probably wanting nothing more than to snuggle with you throughout it all. C'mon, how many cuddle sessions can you get in?

Reveka -Reveka's sass, sarcasm, and smart assery all rolled up in one. Playing nice with others is a setting Reveka hasn't really turned on in years but they're not as cantankerous as Tallulah. Reveka's the one you go to for an adventure, to try something new. You can certainly bet that this one won't let you back down or chicken out. Don't be surprised if hanging around Reveka leads to a fight. Though, a bit of forewarning, Reveka's not exactly...great at physical combat. And yet, Reveka's one of the first to jump to the aid of those around them when it comes down to it. In other words, be prepared for more than a few bar brawls with Reveka around. Might want to take up the running tally the guild had going before.

Demo: TBA

[legend-of-cupcake]

I’ve seen a bit of discourse on Twitter, with people calling Nene toxic because she shot 3 Cupid arrows into a sleeping Hanako. It’s… wild. Imagine hating the main character of the entire manga 💀 I could make an essay on why she’s not toxic, but instead I’m gonna go down the other route and say:

If you think Nene is toxic, then oh boy do I have some news for you about Hanako!!

Let’s list Hanako’s toxic behaviours:

Tricked a young girl into swallowing a mermaid scale so he could make her destroy yorishiro’s

Literally admits himself that he didn't plan to care about Nene and was just using her until he caught feelings

Heavily flirted with Nene until she became confused about his intentions, which resulted in her crying

Threatens to turn Nene into a fish when she doesn't bend to his will

Intentionally keeps Nene's lifespan a secret from her, and only reveals it to her after she confronts him about it

Tries to harm Nene's best friend twice! Despite knowing full well she would disapprove (for those who may not remember, along with literally trying to kill her in Nene's stead, Hanako attempts to drop a chandelier on Aoi to lure out the clock keeper he was hunting)

Hanako quite literally locks Nene away, against her own freewill, because he decided it was the best way to save her (despite how much she didn't want to stay there)

Becomes overly possessive and jealous about Nene, to the point that he doesn't even like the idea of anybody saving her life other than himself (there's so many examples I can give on Hanako's possessiveness alone, but just know it's a pretty toxic trait of his)

Constantly thinks he knows what's best for Nene and will act on that interest, never consulting her on anything even though it's about her

Refuses to entertain Nene's desire to die and stay with him, even Tsukasa says he was selfish for that one

Do I even need to mention chapter 71? The entire severance? How Hanako, after realising he wouldn't be able to make Nene forget, decides to try and make her full on hate him and acts cruel towards her Honestly I am certain I am forgetting things, but this is a list of Hanako's toxic behaviors from the top of my head. He isn't innocent by any means!! And sure, I admit Nene has flaws and that's okay, but if you're going to say she's toxic then I'm sorry but you have to include Hanako too because he's far worse. And btw this is just Hanako's toxic behaviors towards Nene, she actually gets off easy, because everyone else gets it far worse from him. Like? Tsukasa anyone?? Murdered younger brother who was abandoned for 2 decades?? The hypocrisy runs deep.

[saleeba]

reward ; gabriel martinelli 🌟

summary ♡ after two beautiful goals during a match that you were unable to see in person, you decide to both apologise to and reward gabriel in your own special way.

pairing ♡ gabriel martinelli x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+ (minors dni), smut, established relationship, oral (m receiving), p in v, dirty talk, sub!gabriel, domme!reader, mr martinelli being so adorably obedient, cum eating, unprotected sex (pls practise safe sex friends 🫶🏽), praise (m receiving), marking, riding, tit play, kissing, pet names galore, some (google translated >.<) portuguese

a/n ♡ i’m in my slut eraaaaa 🤭 honestly i wanted to go down the fluff route when it came to my pookie but smth came over me o_O i just know this man makes the prettiest sounds when he’s being sucked off i just know it!!!! anyway this goes out to the lovely anon who asked if i was gonna write for martinelli,, i hope this doesn’t disappoint!! this fic is set right after the arsenal v everton match that happened on march 1st so almost 2 months ago 😭 but i think bc bae scored twice it had to be the one <3 anyway hope u guys enjoyyy !!! as always pls lmk if u have any feedback <3 requests are temporarily closed as of now but they’ll open up right after i’m done with my current wips !! :D

[ meu amor = my love // linda = pretty girl // meu anjo = my angel ]

4-0. a formidable result. and the love of your life shares half the score with two spectacular goals.

you’ve been watching the match from your shared living room — work assignments long forgotten — biting your tongue at every slip and trip but buzzing with pure joy when the whistle eventually sounds, concluding arsenal’s victory over everton. you instinctively jump up from the sofa to grab your phone and send gabriel a congratulations text, a ritual that the two of you have unintentionally become accustomed to whenever you were unable to watch him play in person.

congrats baby i’m so proud of you ❤️

you text his phone, not expecting a reply anytime soon since he’s probably still in the dressing room celebrating the team’s win. you smile at the thought of him cheering and dancing with his teammates, the mere mental image sending flutters to your stomach. i am so fucking lucky. a second barely passes before your phone pings with a notification.

thank you meu amor, can’t wait to get home to you ❤️

gabriel’s response comes some minutes later — surprisingly fast in your opinion. not that you’re complaining because it gives you the chance to text him back without missing a beat.

well don’t be too late i want to celebrate with you 🥰

he replies with a simple but sincere ‘🫡❤️’ which makes you laugh audibly. you’re intentionally vague about what you mean exactly, quietly thankful that your charmingly innocent lover doesn’t poke you about how exactly the pair of you are going to celebrate the win together, and that you have the opportunity to take him by surprise when he arrives home later.

***

you’ve been mindlessly watching some late night trash television for over an hour or two, maybe even longer, you have no idea because the thought of giving gabriel what you’ve been wanting to give him is the only priority in your mind right now. you glance at the clock on the wall to help you out. 11:57 pm, it reads.

you contemplate texting gabriel once again, starting to miss his presence more and more as the seconds pass. the sound of keys and the front door closing pulls you from your thoughts.

not even a moment after he passes through the living door, you practically leap onto him, arms and legs wrapped around his body in a style not too dissimilar to that of a koala. gabriel chuckles, throwing his house keys onto the sofa-side table and steadying you by the waist, hands clasped together on your back.

“i missed you so much, you did so good, my wonderboy, i’m so so proud of you.” you leave what feels like a million kisses across his entire face, not even attempting to calm down your affection for him. gabriel just lovingly laughs at your antics and welcomes it all in, planting a big kiss on your lips when he finally gets the chance to.

“i missed you too, my love. winning would’ve been even better with you there, though.” he sits down on the sofa, your form still clinging onto him, making you slip yourself into his lap. in the days leading up to the game, you’d been extremely busy with work, suddenly up to your neck in deadlines and assignments which caused you to break your long streak of going to see gabriel play live.

“i know, sweetheart, i’m sorry,” the tiniest frown is momentarily painted on your face. you genuinely do feel bad for not being able to see him do what he loves doing the most at every given chance but what were you to do? casting the small sphere of guilt aside, you lean in to mumble against his full lips, voice low and dripping with desire. “let me make it up to you, hm?”

he responds with a bashful nod, eyes turning slightly wider, his gaze even more doe-like than usual. you move your head from his line of view to start plotting kisses down his tender neck, each one more hungrier than the previous, evoking small whiney moans from the footballer. settling on a spot at the base of his throat, you go on to bite at the surface before soothing it over with your tongue and sucking to see a small bruise forming. the vibrations of his heightening moans make you smile against his now splotchy skin.

stopping yourself from getting carried away with the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down from how good you’re making him feel, you climb down from his lap and stand up, extending your hand out towards him. “come on, baby,” you make a small ‘grabby-hand’ gesture. “i want to show you how proud i really am of you.”

gabriel doesn’t hesitate to pull himself to his feet which allows you to take him by the hand and lead the both of you to your shared bedroom, where you ask him to sit on the end of the bed. you say nothing more, letting the actions of your lips do all the silent talking as you leave a burning kiss on your lover’s mouth, one that goes on for a couple of minutes as neither of you want to let the other go, even if it’s for just a second.

“help me take these off you, baby.” you request, shifting your hands to his shorts where you snap the elastic band against his heated skin. he hikes his hips up at your words, letting you slide the material down his legs and off his body before tossing them over your shoulder. the only thing between you and gabriel’s growingly hard cock is the cotton of his black boxers straining against him.

you triallingly palm him through his underwear, cock twitching upon first touch and you take this as a signal to swipe off the acting barrier between what you desire, flinging that in some random corner of the bedroom too.

gabriel is almost writhing under your touch now, your fingers wrapping around his aching cock to give it a drop of relief. your thumb circles the tip where pre-cum pools around the orifice, spreading the thick fluid over his dark pink head.

“oh my god, please.” gabriel pants out, eyes squeezing shut when you kneel down between his parted legs and kiss the tip of his weeping cock a few times, pre-cum now being shared onto your lips.

“sshh, baby boy, let me take care of you,” you part your mouth to allow your tongue to swirl around it now, knowing that this much stimulation would have him whimpering for so much more. gabriel goes to touch your head for both leverage and relief but you lightly scold him with an ah ah ah before placing his hands on his thighs and telling him to keep them there. you knew he would’ve used them to guide your mouth to where he wanted otherwise but tonight, you’re the one in control — and you made sure to let him know. “try that again and we’ll stop whatever it is we’re doing, okay?” it’s a harmless warning really, because you know there’s no way you could ever say an absolute no to the boy when it comes to things like this, but you still smile appreciatively when he gives you a slow, coy nod.

“good boy.”

you swoop yourself down to capture the first few inches of his cock in your mouth, head moving easily along that particular area. he’s girthy for sure, but it’s his length that’s outstanding; lips stretching as you go lower on him, still struggling to take all of him in despite being with him for years and doing this an unfathomable amount of times. you set your tongue to work to make up for it though, laying it flat against his boner as you drag your head up to the top, lips still enveloping him. you don’t let go just yet as you opt to test yourself on how far you can truly go.

in one determined yet unbroken sweep, you push your mouth to the base of gabriel’s cock, gagging around him instantly as the tip is forced into the opening of your throat. the oscillations coming from you have him moaning deeply, his hands now gripping the sheets. you feel proud for being able to deepthroat him finally, for finding the fuel to do so off of how much you want to see him rewarded for doing so good in that match and for being able to make him sound like an absolute porn star.

you continue on relentlessly, without pausing for breath, just to hear the constant stream of his moans and heavy panting. the sounds cause shockwaves to flood your pussy, rapidly becoming so wet that you doubt you’ve ever been this drenched before. certainly not while being untouched. the bobbing of your head on his shaft gets faster too; you’re now needing him to finish and get what he’s so desperately been craving for, what you’ve been so desperately craving for ever since you got your mouth on him.

temporarily pulling off his cock, you go back to jerking it off and his sounds get even more lustful. “that’s it, baby boy, you’re doing so good for me,” you tap his cock against the flat of your tongue, slick and wet with how hard you’ve been working it on him and he throws his head back with a throaty groan. “god, you make the prettiest sounds, gabi.”

you return to stimulating his cock some more with your mouth, pulling off every few seconds or so — only very briefly — to tell him that you need his cum inside your mouth, that he’s allowed to make a mess on your face, and that your pussy is absolutely dripping with how fucking angelic he sounds right now. once you put your lips around him for the final time, almost swallowing his length again, gabriel switches up the pitch of his moans, signalling that he’s so close to what the two of you have been looking towards.

“ah, ah, amor, please,” his face is twisted in pure pleasure, his full lips separated to let every hefty breath out into the air, face burning with complete determination to orgasm. “i’m so close, please, i’m gonna cum.”

you’re listening to every syllable pour out of that kissable mouth of his, your own one acting unstoppable in its quest to make your lover cum for you. the sounds emitting from the both of you would be branded as utterly obscene if anyone heard them, your tongue and mouth creating the most vulgar slurping noises and gabriel virtually screaming at the top of his lungs at the sensation of you on his cock.

your head delivers one bob, two, nearly two and a half, before gabriel floods your mouth with his cum, the viscous fluid all warm and slightly salty along your tastebuds, voice sounding strangled and overwhelmed as he lets the loudest mewl you’ve possibly ever heard him make escape this throat. you pull off his tip with a pop, taking extra care not to spill a single droplet of his cum on the floor. gabriel pants heavily, chest heaving up and down, as you audibly swallow, giving the corner of your mouth a wipe to tuck a stray drop past your lips, not wanting to waste one bit.

you stand up, legs slightly stiff from being bent at the knees for so long, steadying yourself by grasping onto his shoulders, rubbing them along the toned muscles to soothe his breathing. if he were to be completely honest with you, your actions only sped his heartbeat up, the way your fingers dance across his skin causes it to erupt into a million goosebumps.

“you reckon you can give me another one, sweetheart?” another request falls upon his ears. your voice is relatively hoarse from sucking dick for some time but its tone is so saccharine, gabriel wouldn’t ever imagine denying you.

“anything for you, meu amor.”

your heart almost burst at that.

biting your lip to keep yourself from squealing over how fucking cute he is, you motion to the other end of the bed where plenty of plush pillows lay against the headboard, ushering him towards it. once you watch your lover situate himself where you want, you praise him with a good boy, as he sits with his back against the pillow pile, legs stretched out.

still at the foot end of the bed, you take a step back to make sure gabriel has your full body in view, as you come to the decision of giving him a mini show of you undressing yourself. starting with your bottom half, you turn to face away from him, bending over in the slightest angle, skilful fingers taking off your leggings and underwear in one go, and putting your ass on display. gabriel’s breathing accelerates when he catches sight of your pussy, the way it glistens in the room’s dim lighting making him gulp in a mixture of anticipation and excitement. mind so fixated on imagining the feeling of your tightness on his still sensitive cock, he doesn’t notice that you’re now back facing his awaiting form, hands unclasping your bra and discarding it beside you.

you smile across at him, crawling onto the bed before you land on his outstretched legs, plopping yourself down onto his lap yet again, thighs on either side of him. the juices coating your inner thighs smear onto his own skin.

placing your palms on his flushed chest, you start to grind slowly down onto him, relishing the tiny moans that pass through his lips. “will you let me ride you now, gabi?” you ask, your core intentionally slipping right over the head of his dick and causing you both to gasp out at the deliciously cruel teasing. “oh god, need you inside me now, meu anjo.”

the switch to portuguese and the feeling of your soaked pussy finally enveloping his raw cock sends his mind absolutely reeling. a pair of indecent moans are ripped from the two of you as you set yourself on bouncing and grinding on his cock, not wasting any time on making you both savour the feeling of each other.

“oh my god, baby,” you moan out, head thrown back and hands now embracing his shoulders. “you fill me up so well, ah!” you scream quietly when his dick twitches up into you at the sound of your praises. you notice him clumsily gripping onto the sheets, fingertips seeming antsy to hold something else other than the thin fabric. you smirk to yourself before leaning into his face and leaving a small kiss on his lips. “you can touch me now, y’know.” you say lovingly as your hands bring his slightly sweaty ones onto the curve of your hips, essentially responding for him.

his fingers conform to the shape of you, palms slotting perfectly into place like the two of you were made for each other. gabriel’s whines and whimpers spur you on to move faster and harder against him, the friction of your tits on his chest fogging your brain, hardened nipples on soft, damp skin.

“oh fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good,” you pant out into his rifted lips, body rolling and shuddering on top of him. “stuffing me so deep, my good boy, i’m so proud of you,” you’re starting to babble now, words just spilling out of your mouth in sheer adoration and pride for gabriel, not even sure whether you’re talking about how well he’s taking you or how well he did in tonight’s match. either way, your words stand sincere and heartfelt. “so good at everything you do, baby boy, oh my god, so good.”

gabriel isn’t sure if it’s the newly gained feeling of his hands on your pretty body or the way your voice doesn’t stop singing his praises but something sparks his confidence, and he thrusts firmly up into you with a groan of achievement, you reacting with a sudden scream, swearing that you can feel the tip of his cock reaching your stomach. with your back arching on command at the extremely full sensation inside you, gabriel takes the chance to latch his lips onto your left boob, the plumpness of them engulfing the sensitive bud as he sucks gently. the antithesis of your forceful hips on him and his delicate mouth on you has your cunt flooding with even more wetness, your juices only encouraging you to keep moving on his big cock, granted how fucking easy it is to slide up and down him.

he moves onto your right boob, this time involving his tongue, swirling it around and around as if he’s intentionally trying to mimic sending your mind into a similarly spiraled frenzy. you clench around him dangerously, both of you knowing what that action does to gabriel.

“ah, shit!” he whimpers, own head now being thrown back against the headboard as you’re still persistent with your hips, sopping pussy rocking over his length. “i-i think i’m gonna cum, amor.”

“cum for me, baby,” you permit, feeling the high of your own orgasm on the horizon, hips racing to meet gabriel at his climax. “you’ve done so well for me, come on, gabi, i want you to cum inside me, sweetheart, please.” the tight bubble at the pit of your stomach threatens to burst, pussy so tempted to throb around the shaft it’s enveloping.

gabriel’s hold on you gets tighter, imitating the same strength your cunt is exerting on his cock, fingertips pressing into your flesh to give him some relief but the way you clench around him grants him exactly that. his orgasm crashes over him like a ferocious wave, mouth wide open to let strangled moans escape his throat. your own release comes seconds later, just as gabriel is panting out the lasting moments of his, your lips seizing his in an effort to drown your carnal cries of pleasure as his warm cum coats your walls, the feeling of being stuffed and filled with his seed making your face scrunch in ecstasy, whispers of my good boy and that’s it, baby and you did so so well flowing into gabriel’s ears. you both help each other ride out the aftershocks of your orgasms — gabriel’s hands still on your hips as tight as ever, as if to say please don’t leave, knowing that you’ll take your body off him if he removes his grip.

“stay here with me, meu amor, pleeeease!” he whines after you tell him that you need to clean yourselves up, showing off those beautiful doe eyes that make you weak at the knees. huffing at his adorable antics, you respond with a joking roll of your eyes. you both know there is absolutely no way you could ever refuse those big brown eyes.

“alright, alright, but just for 2 minutes, okay?” you poke at his chest as a warning. he smiles, bringing you down with him as he goes to lay on the bed, the two of you still connected down below. “you’re so insatiable, i swear.” you place a meaningful kiss on his tender lips, pulling up to see how his face beams in a post-orgasm glow.

gabriel sweetly yawns, the hustle and bustle of the day now wearing down on him, fingers taken to rubbing your back to soothe himself as his eyelids flutter close. you let him of course, knowing how hard he’s worked on and off the pitch tonight, hand falling amongst the dark strands of his hair as his chest slowly rises up and down. there aren’t enough words to tell him how much you love him, you muse to yourself. you feel so lucky to call him yours.