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#reveal scene DONE baby lets fucking GO
chaepink · 10 months
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Hi i really loved ur content about submissive Kenma. Can u write a fic about kenma again🥺🥺 like the reader was so jealous because some ramdom girl is flirting with kenma. Thats why she ended up fucking him all night u knaurr
jealousy, jealousy | sub!kenma kozume
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wc: 1k+ words | masterlist
dom!reader, pegging, possessiveness/jealously, begging, jealous sex, aftercare is mentioned though its not written, established relationship, slight crying
note : oh my god thank you! 😳
and im sorry but i forgot to write how the reader kept fucking him all night :,)
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"Oh hello~ you're rather cute, aren't you?" You ignore the voice, thinking it was just a girl hitting on a random person. That's until you hear the high pitched voice again asking the person for their number, except it was closer this time and a familiar voice answers afterwards.
"N-No thanks... I'm not i-interested.."
You stray your attention from the item in your hand to the familiar voice and furrow your eyebrows when you see the scene.
Kenma, who's your boyfriend to make it clear, being flirted on by this clueless girl who, though he denied her advances once already, thinks she still has a shot and keeps on trying to talk to him. She's getting rather close to him too, making him have to take small steps backward in order to keep the distance between them comfortable, a slight blush on his cheeks.
You feel anger bubble up inside your body as you furrow your eyebrows, glaring at the girl. You know the emotion you're currently feeling loud and clear: jealously.
Knowing how Kenma hates being social and would rather stay inside and play video games over anything else, your boyfriend is probably hating all the attention that he is currently getting from her. Hell, judging by the facial expression he has on it seems that he would rather be anywhere else than at that very spot.
Having dated him for a while now, you know the poor boy won't find it in him to be able to find the words to shut her down directly. That's where you come in.
Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself down before you mindlessly do something you would regret. Walking towards the two, Kenma sees you and his eyes immediately light up, begging you to help him out of the situation.
Grabbing his hand more harsher than you meant, you immediately begin walking towards the cashier section while completely ignoring the girl right there.
"C'mon, babe. I'm done getting everything."
Kenma blushes at the venom in your tone. He could feel the jealousy radiating off you and honestly? It's rather hot.
But he can't help but be nervous about what's going to happen to him.
---
"P-Please! i'm s-sorry!" He lets out another sob as you hit all the right spots in him with your strap. Due to the sheer size of it, it fills him up almost too perfectly, making him whine and whimper underneath you as you continue to pound his insides.
Tears brim his eyes as you brutally fuck him stupid. All he can do is lay there as pleasure courses through his body in waves making him unable to do anything without being shocked with pleasure seconds later. He's a pillow princess, really, but oh do you love it.
Mere minutes if not seconds after you entered the shared apartment between you two do you already have him trapped on the bed underneath you, one of your biggest straps entering and exiting him easily and quickly due to prep. His top half is still covered by a hoodie as you were too focused on revealing his bottom half.
"Oh don't worry, baby." You clench your teeth. Your thighs are absolutely burning but you don't dare stopping for even a second. You remember how touchy the girl was being with Kenma and you speed up your thrusts even more, jealously fueling your adrenaline. "I know you're sorry. Just gotta make sure that the next time that girl sees you-," you start to say. "Well the next time anyone has their eye on you, they'll see the hickeys on your neck and decide to leave what what's mine alone."
A shiver runs down Kenma's spine as your possessiveness makes blood run far down his body. His hands make its way into your back, latching on and digging his nails into your skin, making you hiss from the slight pain it causes. The grip you have on his hips is hard enough to leave a mark but it allows you to easily fuck in and out of him and be able to control the pace.
"You're mine, yeah? No one else's. Mine."
He whimpers as a particular thrust of your strap has him arching his back and letting out a almost pornographic moan. Fuck, he looks absolutely breathtaking right now.
"Y-Yes- fuck! I'm y-yours."
You latch your teeth onto his neck and bite down, making Kenma mewl out from the slight pain. Making sure to leave a few more bite marks and love bites, you lick a few to soothe the pain. You don't care if they only stay for a few days, knowing you would leave more in the near future.
"Fuck- i'm close!"
With that information, you switch from quick, hard thrusts to slower, deeper ones that make Kenma's toes curl and eyes roll from the sheer pleasure he's feeling. He lets out another moan.
"Go on, baby. Cum for me, alright?"
And with that, Kenma lets loose. Whines, moans, and whimpers fill the room as your boyfriend stains the bed and his hoodie with cum. You continue slowly fucking him to ease him down from his high and Kenma whines from sensitivity when you pull out, leaving him to clench around nothing.
"Good boy," you say, kissing his cheek. He blushes red from the praise, almost as if you weren't fucking his brains out mere seconds ago. "You did so good for me." You're about to leave to clean him up until he grabs your arm, stopping you. You raise an eyebrow at him.
"Um... w-what about you though?" It takes a moment for you to process his question but once you do, you can't help but smile.
"Aw sweetie," you coo, making him blush even harder at the new pet name. "Don't worry about me, I'm just glad you enjoyed it."
As you go and get a wet towel to clean him up, he reaches to his neck and gently touches the hickeys and bite marks you've left there. Though it hurts as he slowly presses down on a bruise and he has to stop himself from letting out a whimper, he can't help but smile, a dark blush adorning his cheeks.
He's yours.
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ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink
╰┈➤ masterlist | rules
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ginnsbaker · 5 months
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In Silent Screams (3/3)
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Chapter word count: 11.8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision (past) Warnings in this part: Smut (F/F), Angst, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Mild attempted sexual assault
A/N: This is probably the most uncomfortable fic I've written after In Flames (for good reason lol), so I'm nothing short of amazed if you were able to go through every line in this three-parter. P.S. For some reason, third part was the hardest to write for me, I guess it's because a lot of the scenes now are the same ones from In Flames after R found out and switching perspectives was a lot harder than I anticipated :P
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
-
It all feels like a dream, starting from the moment she opens her eyes and a few rays of light have filtered through the slats of the blinds. For a few moments Wanda pretends she’s back to that day—to that first morning she woke up next to you as your wife.  She can still vividly recall the setting: your old bedroom in Montauk. Less than a year out of college, both you and Wanda were being frugal about the whole marriage thing, opting out of checking into a hotel after the festivities the night before.
Wanda smiles to herself at the fond memory. She glances to the side, and the alarm clock reads 5:30. It's too early to be waking you up, or anyone in this sleepy town. Nevertheless, she has to talk herself into extricating herself from your arms if she wants to pull off a very special breakfast-in-bed. A hesitant decision, a quiet sigh, and Wanda's slowly pulling herself from the warmth of the bed. The wood floor feels cool against her bare feet, prompting her to reach for one of your used polo shirts hanging over the back of the desk chair.
She enters the kitchen, her hands immediately getting to work. The spinach and mushroom are her first go-to, swiftly layered with day-old bread, and custard mix, forming the base for her strata. Next come the eggs, which she sets to poach, anticipating the smooth burst of yolk that'll cascade over the muffin once all is said and done. And then finally, bacon—your favorite. 
Sparky trots into the kitchen, inevitably drawn by the wafting aroma, his tail wagging in tandem with his eagerness. He settles by her feet, watching with those pleading puppy eyes, occasionally letting out a quiet whine that speaks of his impatience and hope. Wanda chuckles, bending down to ruffle his fur. “You think this will get you a piece, huh?” she teases. But, she already knows that she'll give in, sneaking him a piece or two. He's your and Wanda's baby after all.
After she’s finished plating the meal, she sets them on a tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom. The morning sun presents itself more boldly, almost spotlighting you in bed. Your face is tucked beneath a pillow, the sheets haphazardly pooled around your waist, revealing the bare expanse of your back, without a care in the world. Warmth floods Wanda's chest. She places the tray on a nearby desk.
Breakfast can wait.
Slipping into bed behind you, she becomes a shadow to your form. Her fingers gently trace the curve of your shoulder, lightly skimming over your skin. A shiver runs through her, and she lowers her lips to your nape. The temptation is too great, and soon, her tongue joins the fray, drawing a wet path down your spine. And then, unable to stop herself, she begins to rub herself against you, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sheer fabric of the polo shirt she's wearing, infused with your scent, rubs tantalizingly against her sensitized skin, heightening her need. 
She can't stop thinking about last night, and the times before. She can't stop thinking about you—having you, being had by you. However, as your muscles start to tense, indicating the micro movements of your awakening body, a soft “fuck” slips from Wanda's lips, distracting her rhythm. She waits, a small smile tugging at her lips, silently asking if you're ready to greet the day—together.
You lazily roll onto your back, causing Wanda to reposition herself, now straddling your abdomen. With a drowsy smirk, your eyes half-lidded, you murmur, “Good morning,” squinting at the enthusiastic goddess—my wife, you think possessively to yourself— hovering above you.
Her face lights up, her morning energy nearly palpable. “Morning,” she chirps back, leaning down to capture your lips in a short but sweet kiss. Breaking away only slightly, she gives you a playful eskimo kiss, her nose rubbing affectionately against yours. A giggle escapes you, and she continues until you feel her nose scrunch up from how hard she’s smiling, all the while relishing the sound of her laughter. 
When she's done teasing you, she buries her face in your neck. Drawn to the soft, milky expanse of her thighs, your hands begin to wander. As your fingers brush the curve where her thigh meets her hip, the subtle absence of fabric gives you pause. She's without a stitch beneath your polo. Your thumb ventures further south, discovering the dampness tangled in her soft curls. Heat surges to your cheeks, and you bite your lip, stifling a moan.
Wanda notices the slight change in your expression and a devilish smirk forms on her lips. “Seems like you found a little surprise,” she teases.
“Did I?” you smirk, tracing  the V-line leading to her hidden treasure, teasing her a little. Wanda's breath catches, her pupils blown. But just as she readies herself for whatever comes next, you suddenly shift upwards, unbalancing her slightly. Reflexively, her legs wrap around your waist, anchoring herself to you. Her hands fly to your shoulders, gripping them for support. With a swift move, you part the front of the polo she’s wearing, exposing the smooth curve of her breast to the cool morning air.
The sudden exposure makes her gasp, but before she can utter a word, you close the distance, taking a hardened nipple into your mouth. Her face contorts in unabashed pleasure, her world spinning as you draw her deeper and deeper into your mouth. It's messy and primal, yet at the same time, it's reverent and sacred—something she has only ever experienced with you. She can't help but squirm, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on. 
Keeping an arm firmly around her waist to ensure she stays secure, your free hand travels down her belly, fingers tracing a sultry path to her soaked center. You leisurely trace her slick folds, gathering her arousal, playing with it. 
“Please, baby,” she arches and bucks, grinding her hips, “more...I need more.”
Your lips twist into a devious smirk, reveling in her desperation. Drawing back slightly, you gaze at the flushed, vulnerable state of her, taking a moment to commit the image to memory. “I love it when you’re this needy…” you rasp, the tease evident in your tone. 
Oh, but she is. She needs you to claim her, time and time again. She never wants to be anything else other than yours once more.
You lean back in, trailing a path of searing kisses from her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. Without warning, you nip at her tender flesh, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Marking her further, you suck and bite gently, leaving a trail of reddened spots, declaring your claim on her. With every purple bruise you leave, Wanda's moans grow more desperate, more wanton.
When you finally lift your head, her chest is littered with bites, then with a wicked grin, you dip your finger into her wetness once more, circling her entrance but never dipping inside.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I... I want you,” she admits breathlessly, biting her lower lip, eyes pleading. “Please, I need you inside.”
Not wanting to make her wait any longer, you slide two fingers into her, curling them expertly. Wanda's body arches off the bed, her inner walls instantly tightening around your digits, pulling them deeper. Every sound that spills from her lips, the way her body arches, trying to get closer, to feel more of you, tells you just how good you’re making her feel. 
Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, while your fingers continue to piston in and out of her. The room is filled with the sound of Wanda's ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your fingers moving within her. As you feel her body tense further, you take a chance and slide a third finger into her, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation of being so full sends Wanda over the edge.
“Oh, God!” she gasps, her back arching, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands grip your shoulders tightly, knuckles white from the intensity of her climax. Her inner walls spasm around your fingers, coating them with her release, her entire body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.
You keep up the pace, not wanting to stop until she's wrung out from pleasure. Each stroke of your fingers sends aftershocks rippling through her. When it finally becomes too much, Wanda grabs your wrist.
“Enough,” she breathes out, a sated smile curling her lips. 
You can't resist the allure of the taste she's left on your fingers. You raise them to your lips, deliberately and slowly, letting her watch as you savor her taste. The move earns a flustered gasp from her.
“You taste so good,” you murmur, your voice low and husky.
Wanda's cheeks redden, but her eyes darken once more, filled with a burning intensity. “Your turn,” she whispers, reaching for you.
-
Thirty minutes before she can call it a day, the sound of a knock on her office door sends a ripple of tension through Wanda. 
She knows that knock all too well.
Taking a deep breath, she calls out, “Yes?” even as she mentally braces herself for who might be on the other side. 
The person almost immediately steps in, and—unfortunately, she's correct about who she thinks it might be. Before she can utter a word, he says, “You know, I can't just come in without an appointment, right?”
“Exactly, Vision. You shouldn't be here without—” she starts to say, but he interrupts her by triumphantly holding up an appointment slip.
His cheeky grin widens. “Got one right here.”
Wanda eyes the slip, pursing her lips as she thinks of a retort, keeping her guard up. The game has changed, but Vision's audacity, it seems, remains the same.
“Alright, what do you want? And I wouldn’t entertain anything that doesn’t have to do with the course.”
“Just some clarification about our last lecture,” he says as he closes the door behind him, audibly locking it. Wanda maintains her composure, not letting it show that the small act alarms her in the slightest.
“Go on,” Wanda prompts, leaning back slightly against her desk, arms crossed defensively.
But Vision, without missing a beat, launches into something entirely different. “I miss you,” he starts, and Wanda's posture stiffens, her fingernails reactively digging into her arms rather painfully. “I realize I messed up, Wanda. I do. But I can change.”
“Vis—” she warns, trying to interrupt him, but he barrels on, his voice filled with desperation.
“And if, by any chance, you're pregnant, I'll step up. I promise. I'll be responsible,” he continues, his voice quivering slightly. “You have no idea how happy I’ll be if you are.”
“I'm not pregnant,” Wanda whispers, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It's one thing for him to disregard her boundaries and be reckless with his words, but to assume that she would continue a pregnancy, knowing he's the father? Even the thought of it is sickening. 
“And I would still choose not to be even if you were successful in your plans,” she adds, just to spite him.
Vision looks as if he might be sick, his complexion turning pallid, and a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Wanda has never seen him struck by her words this hard, and she realizes she doesn't have any idea what he might do next.
“I just... I thought…” he stammers, eyes glistening, “I just wanted to matter to you, b-by—”
“By what, Vision?” She cuts him off, her tone icy. “Hoping you'd lock me down by trying to knock me up?”
Vision’s face crumples further, tears spilling over. For all his stature—tall, lanky yet broad-shouldered—in this moment, he's stripped of that facade. His body shake as he tries to hold back sobs. “I didn't... I didn't think it through,” he manages to say between choked breaths.
Wanda almost pities him, but she shakes her head. “If you’re not here for school, you need to leave.” Her voice is cold, but inside, she's fighting a storm of guilt for the hurt she sees in him.
Just then, the shrill ring of Wanda's phone startles them both simultaneously. Vision's eyes dart to the screen as her caller ID lights up, displaying your name. In a split second, desperation and panic take hold of him. He lunges for the phone, but Wanda is quicker. She swiftly grabs it from her desk, tucking it safely into her purse.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses, her back pressing against the desk.
Vision's eyes burn with an intensity that chills her. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he looms over her, his presence imposing in the small confines of her office. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he demands with barely suppressed jealousy. “She's coming to get you now?”
Wanda backs away slightly, her breathing erratic. “Vision, you need to think—”
“I am thinking.” His voice drops to a low, menacing growl. He tilts his head, eyes never leaving hers. “And maybe I'm thinking of doing something you won't like.”
“No!” Wanda pleads. “Look, Vision—okay, okay, let’s talk. Just not here. We can go to your place.”
His gaze narrows, considering her offer. “When?”
“Soon.”
Vision shakes his head. Not good enough. 
“Tomorrow,” he states without room for argument, his eyes drilling into hers. “Same time. Like we used to.” The allusion to their previous meetings isn't lost on her.
Wanda's throat constricts, “Fine,” she whispers, barely audible, a clear note of dread in her voice. She hates the familiarity of this situation. Most of all, she hates that she's put herself in this position to begin with.
Suddenly, Vision reaches out, his fingers nearly brushing the side of her face. Wanda instinctively shrinks back, but the space between the desk and Vision offers her little room to escape. Her back is to the wall, both literally and figuratively. She can feel the cold press of the desk behind her, contrasting with the heat emanating from Vision's body. It’s obvious what he's thinking, what he's restraining himself from doing.
Horrified and trapped, Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But instead of the touch she anticipates, she hears Vision's harsh intake of breath. The realization that she's retreated from him seems to strike a nerve.
Without another word, Vision pulls away sharply, as if burnt. He turns on his heel, storming out of her office. As soon as he’s gone, her legs give out from under her and she slides down to the cold floor, clutching her chest as she struggles for air. The walls of her office seem to close in on her, trapping her in her own spiraling thoughts. 
As the room begins to blur, the sharp buzz of her phone breaks through her spiraling thoughts. Instinctively, she reaches into her purse, pulling out the phone. Your name illuminates the screen, and with it comes a flood of emotions—relief, safety, love. 
The mere thought of you—so close, just beyond these walls—stops a panic attack from consuming her.
-
“Would you like to go bowling?” Wanda asks you as soon as she fastens her seat belt.
The randomness of the suggestion takes you aback, and a hearty laugh escapes your lips. But as you glance over to see Wanda's reaction, expecting to see her sharing in the moment's levity, you're met with a pained expression.
Your smile fades immediately, replaced by concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
Wanda mentally curses herself, realizing just how easily you can read her, see past her defenses. Needing to come up with something plausible, she quickly blurts out, “I had something super spicy when you called earlier. Didn't handle it too well, it seems.”
The corners of her mouth quirk up in a weak attempt at a reassuring smile, hoping you'd buy the lie, or at least not press further.
You don’t. “Hmm… how about we take Sparky out for a stroll today?” you suggest.
“A walk sounds great,” Wanda replies, her voice softening.
“Good,” you say, starting the car. “Let's head to the park. A bit of nature might do us both some good.”
The engine rumbles softly as you shift the gears, transitioning smoothly from one to the next. And then, almost instinctively, you reach out to take Wanda's hand, your fingers lacing with hers in a gentle yet firm grip. You hold her hand throughout the entire ride home, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze whenever you feel them tremble between yours.
That night, while you sleep soundly beside her, she finds herself unable to sleep. She spends the empty hours simply studying your peaceful face. There's a childlike innocence in the way your lips part slightly, a soft snore escaping occasionally. It's endearing, and it makes Wanda smile, even through her turmoil. She imagines traces of age on your face—the lines that will mark years of laughter, the silver that will streak through your hair. She tries to picture herself beside you, her own face carrying the weight of the years, both of you holding on to each other until the last breath. Her smile is teary as she hopes and hopes that this is where she's headed—to this future.
Because tomorrow, she will have to see Vision, and if everything goes well, she'll never have to see him again. Then she will finally express how she needs you to take her back to Manhattan or anywhere far from here, so she'll never have to relive this nightmare she’s created.
The next day comes like any regular day of the week. She kisses you goodbye as you head off to work, and she feeds Sparky to his heart's content before getting into a pinstripe blue blazer set. She fails to notice just how good she looks in this well-fitted ensemble, the fabric hugging her waist perfectly. Her focus is solely on feeling powerful, as she knows she'll need all the strength to finally put an end to things with Vision.
-
Wanda takes a deep breath, then another, and then two more, before she finally gathers enough courage to knock on the door. Vision answers almost immediately, as though he had been anticipating her knock down to the very second. 
The man before her now looks wholly different from the one she had encountered just yesterday. His blue eyes are bright and clear, his face clean shaven. The scent of a cologne she doesn't recognize wafts to her. New, she thinks. It's heady and distinctly masculine, unsettling her slightly.
“Wanda,” he greets with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, but doesn’t quite touch the soul behind them. For a moment, she's transported to the countless afternoons she spent here, entangled with him with nothing—not even air—separating their sweating, writhing bodies. His lips quirk into a sly, familiar smile, as if he too remembers those days and expects this visit to be a similar occasion. 
“Vision.” Gripping her shoulder bag tighter, almost using it as a shield, she quickly sidesteps him. “May I?” she asks, though it sounds more like a statement as she makes her way into his apartment.
He chuckles softly behind her, the sound dripping with memories she would rather forget. “Of course. After all, you've always felt at home here.”
Wanda's stride falters for a fraction of a second at his words, the implication threatening to pull her under. But she needed to keep her wits about her. If she wants this conversation to go her way.
“Let’s just get to the point, Vision,” she says curtly.
“I intend to,” he replies, closing the door behind them with an intentional finality. Wanda allows herself to glance around, seeking even a brief distraction from what's about to unfold. His apartment is in disarray, a stark contrast to his appearance. Her eyes are drawn to one particular piece amongst the chaos—the finished nude painting he had made of her. The realization catches in her throat. It appears he’s finished it.
Wanda shoots him an expectant look, urging him to speak first.
Vision clears his throat, attempting to sound casual but failing. “Wine? Or should we skip the formalities?”
Her eyes narrow, her patience waning. “We skip.”
“Alright.” 
He sighs and drops onto the couch. “Look, I've said sorry over and over, but I’ll say it again. I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm sorry for being careless that night.” His voice lowers, “But I don't regret it.”
Wanda's eyes flash with disbelief. “You don't regret it?”
“No,” he murmurs. “What I regret is that it didn't result in... well, you know.”
The implication is clear, and Wanda feels bile rise in her throat. How could he say something so audacious?
She opens her mouth to retort but he continues, raising a hand as if to hold off her words, “I want to keep seeing you. I can’t stop. Because, believe it or not, I'm in love with you.”
Wanda feels as though the ground has been pulled from under her feet. Every instinct tells her to run, but she knows that this won’t have an ending if she does. Wanda swallows dryly and closes her eyes, trying to piece together a strategy, a way to get through him, a way to get out of this unscathed, a way to ensure he won’t tell anyone about this when she leaves.
“I-I believe you,” she starts. “I think I’ve always known, no—felt, that you l-love me.” Vision nods to her words, his lips curling into a hopeful smile.
“But I have to be honest with you, too,” she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I took advantage of those feelings, Vision. I knew, deep down, that you felt this way and I still... I still let it happen. And for that, I'm deeply sorry.”
He stiffens at her words, a frown forming on his brow. “Wanda—”
She raises her hand, signaling for him to let her finish. “I don’t love you. It's Y/N. It's always been her. From the very start. What happened between us, it was a mistake, one that I haven't forgiven myself for. Especially because of what it means for Y/N.”
She takes a shaky breath, looking into his eyes earnestly, “You deserve someone who can return your feelings, who can love you wholeheartedly. You're a handsome, intelligent, passionate young man. There are many out there who would consider themselves lucky to be with you—”
But Vision vehemently shakes his head, unwilling to accept it, refusing to acknowledge their end. “I want to keep seeing you.”
“You can't,” Wanda insists, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “It's over.”
Vision's eyes flash dangerously, the calm veneer shattering in an instant. He takes a step forward, trapping Wanda with a threatening look.
“You think you can just fuck me and then discard me like nothing?!” he hisses.
Wanda backs up, startled. She feels her control starting to slip away. “Of course not. I… you were my friend. I cared—I care about you. But I shouldn't have let it get this far.”
He scoffs, not a word of hers reaching his ears. “So, it's all a game to you? You get to decide when to play and when to stop?”
“No, it's not a game,” she replies, desperate for him to understand. “But I can't keep lying to myself or to you. I can't keep hurting Y/N or you.”
His gaze snaps back to hers, and there's a glint of something dark and foreboding in his eyes. “Maybe you should've considered the consequences of your actions, Wanda.”
She swallows hard, sensing the danger in his voice. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe Y/N should know the truth,” he surmises, his voice dripping with malice. “Maybe she should know exactly who she's been sharing her bed with.”
Wanda feels like she might faint anytime. Panic rises, threatening to choke her. “Vision, please,” she pleads, “you can't do that.”
His eyes remain steely. “Why not? She deserves to know, doesn't she?”
Wanda takes a shaky breath, grappling for words, trying to appeal to his sense of reason. “Yes, she does. But not like this. Not from you. If anyone should tell her, it's me.”
“But you'll never tell her,” Vision says, his voice laced with accusation. “I see it in your eyes, Wanda. You don't have the balls to be honest with her. Because you're afraid. You're afraid she'll walk away.”
Both are poised in this high-stakes game, each waiting, anticipating, guessing what card the other will play next. For a heartbeat, Wanda feels disarmed, Vision's threat too sharp and too real. But as the seconds tick by, something shifts in her. She straightens up, pulling herself to her full height, and when she speaks, there’s no fear or hesitation in her voice.
“You’re not going to tell her,” she declares.
“And what makes you so sure?”
“Because you know I'll hate you,” she says. “And if there's even the slightest chance that I'll change my mind, then doing that wouldn't be it.”
Vision lets out a humorless laugh, but the look in his eyes betrays his indifference. “You think there's a chance you'll change your mind?” 
“No,” Wanda says firmly. “It's over.”
The defiant look that had been painted across Vision's face begins to crack. He looks smaller somehow, like he's shrinking back into himself. His shoulders slump, and the facade of control and confidence he'd donned earlier dissolves. The boy from yesterday, the one who seemed so heartbroken, returns in full force.
“Wanda,” his voice trembles, almost as if he's on the verge of tears. “Please, I’m all alone. I told you my life, I told you about my parents, nobody in this world cares about me! And I know I said I’m fine and I can survive without them, but why should I when I have you, Wanda—”
She can't help but pity him, his brokenness tugging at her heartstrings. But she knows that relenting now would mean drowning in the same cycle all over again.
“Vis, you will find someone. Someone who isn't me, someone better for you. Trust that.”
“How can I want someone else when I had you,” he insists with unwavering stubbornness, his eyes growing more frenzied, and Wanda shivers at the unsettling sight before her.
“Maybe you had me,” she says tearfully as she decides to finally drive a stake into his heart. “But not in every way like Y/N has me.”
Before she can register what's happening, Vision's hands are suddenly around her waist, pulling her forcefully against him. The initial shock and his assertiveness make her freeze for a split second. As he starts rubbing himself against her, she feels the unmistakable hardness growing between them.
“Vision, stop!” she protests, trying to wriggle free.
“Can you feel that?” he whispers hoarsely, clearly misinterpreting her struggle, mistaking it for their first time together and all the other times she eventually gave in to his advances. “That's how much I want you. Need you.”
Tears of frustration and fear spill from her eyes. “This isn't right, Vision. Let go,” she pleads, placing her hands against his chest and pushing with all her might.
“Wanda, just—maybe if we—you’ll see. You’ll see that you love me, just let me—”
Her fist connects with his cheek, causing him to stumble a few steps away. For a while, they both freeze in horror, the gravity of the situation sinking in. In his moment of delirium, Vision comprehends what he was about to do to the woman he claims to love, and guilt claws at his guts, wrenching his insides. 
On the other end, Wanda's chest heaves with shock and distress. She stands there momentarily paralyzed, the aftershocks of the ordeal still rippling through her. Tears blur her vision, but she refuses to let them fall, not now, not when she needs all her strength. Her gaze meets Vision's only briefly before she pulls herself together. She wraps her arms around herself, and then rushes to the front door.
He yells, “No, Wanda! I…please let’s just—”
But his pleas fall on deaf ears.
-
Wanda goes straight home after the whole fiasco with Vision. She locks herself in the bedroom, crying for hours, paying no attention to Sparky's worried barks from outside the door. She tells herself that it could be worse, trying to talk herself out of going to the police. If she goes to the authorities, she'll have to give a statement. This would inevitably lead to an investigation into their past, revealing things she doesn't want you to know.
Drained from crying, Wanda's eyelids grow heavy. As sleep overtakes her, vivid dreams flood her mind, each presenting an alternate reality. In one dream she’s back in Vision’s apartment, his arms wrapped around her like a chain, and every time she tries to pull away, the chains grow tighter, pulling her back into his prison. A cold dread settles in her heart, as she struggles and fights, desperate to wrench herself free from his grasp.
The next scenario places her in a world without Vision. It's a life untouched by his influence, where she walks unfamiliar streets and meets faces that do not recognize her. Then, in a sudden shift, she's back at her office on that fateful evening, but the events unfurl differently. The temptation of Vision never materializes. She leaves, unburdened by the weight of a choice she didn't make.
But the relief is short-lived. These dreams meld into a harrowing nightmare, saturated in hues of red and black, where you discover her secret. She tries to call out, to explain, to mend, but her voice is swallowed by the deafening silence of the dreamscape. 
In her seemingly endless silent screams, Wanda wakes up. The remnants of her haunting dreams still clutching at her, making her jolt upright. The fabric of the sheets sticks to her body, drenched in a cold sweat. Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if she's been submerged underwater and has just broken the surface.
The bedside clock reads half past six and panic sets anew. You could be home in an hour, given that you haven't been extending your hours at the office lately. The realization pushes her into a frenzied urgency. Throwing off the sheets, Wanda rushes to the ensuite bathroom. The cold stream from the shower brings a semblance of clarity, washing away the residues of her nightmares. 
Wrapped in a towel, with droplets still cascading down her skin, she dashes to the kitchen. She pulls out ingredients, her hands working methodically, albeit with a haste that speaks of her need to keep busy, to keep the demons of her subconscious at bay. She manages to prepare a simple but appetizing meal, but the mere thought of taking a bite threatens to turn her stomach inside out.
The dining table is set, and she seats herself, her gaze distant once again. And she stays there, lost in her own head. 
It’s how you find her when you get home at 9:15 in the evening.
-
You’re quiet tonight. Alarmingly so.
She asks you how your day was, and you respond tersely with a simple, “Good.” She attempts to get you to elaborate, maybe share an anecdote like you usually do, but you dismiss her efforts, attributing your lack of interest in conversation to fatigue.
But Wanda can’t stand the silence. When it’s quiet, the voices in her head are even louder. 
So she decides to tell you about her day instead. She swears to herself this is the last day she’ll ever lie to you with a straight face. She talks about the final projects her students have begun submitting. As she describes her favorites, your interest particularly sharpens when she mentions the portrait projects. You pepper her with questions, mostly about who made which, and Wanda offers names that probably wouldn't mean much to you.
After you finish eating, you thank her with a small smile. It's only then that Wanda feels she can breathe again. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her longing evident. However, just as she tries to deepen the kiss, you pull away, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Showered without me?” you tease, but it lacks the usual lilt in your voice. She simply nods in response. You playfully tap her nose, whispering, “Naughty girl.” Then, without another word, you're on your feet and heading up the stairs to the bedroom.
She proceeds to clear the table and wash the dishes, all while the sound of the shower fills her ears. She allows herself a small smile, chiding herself for being overly affected by her dream.
By the time she makes her way up to join you, she discovers you've already drifted off, turned away from the vacant space beside you that's meant for her.
-
She’s positively shaking as she takes the short walk from the parking lot to the classroom, the dread building up inside her like a swelling storm. The thought of facing her class, and especially Vision, sends shivers down her spine. The recent events—the horrifically inappropriate advances and Vision's glaring sense of entitlement—play over and over in her mind.
Her feet eventually take her to her destination, but she remains outside for a full minute. The thought of facing Vision again is almost enough to turn her around. But another, stronger, voice reminds her of her duty, her commitment to her other students, and her own integrity. Moreover, she doesn't want to be alone today, here the haunting events with Vision could replay in her mind without any distractions. 
She pushes open the door. It appears to be a typical day, with her students clustered in small groups, engrossed in conversation and seemingly oblivious to her arrival. She swiftly surveys the room and, to her relief, doesn't spot the familiar blue eyes that usually fixate on her by this time.
When she starts her lecture on the final topic of the semester, it flows seamlessly. Still, the end of the course can't come soon enough; continuing here is untenable. She can’t keep teaching here, when these hallways keep reminding her of the mistake that almost cost her everything.
-
You've been leaving the side of your bed cold for almost two weeks now. Sometimes, your careful movements stir her awake, and she watches you, bleary-eyed, as you go through the motions of prepping for a run, a habit you've picked up quite recently. At first, Wanda would always ask where you’re headed and if she can accompany you. But you'd consistently dismiss her offer, always seeming in a rush to hit the pavement.
She thinks it’s good for you—the exercise. The only aspect of your new hobby that she dislikes is that you typically go before sunrise, where everywhere is still too dark and eerily quiet, and her imagination runs wild of all the worst things that could happen to you while you’re out on your run. 
And Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she can't help but internalize the consistent rejection of her offers to join you.  She wonders if there's a deeper reason behind it. When you're out and she's left alone with her thoughts, Wanda can't help but let the guilt seep in. Has she become too transparent? Has something given her secret away? Did you find out about her affair? How would she even begin to explain?
But then you return after your run, with a sense of tranquility, as though the exercise had been a cathartic release of some pent-up tension. However, something still feels amiss. Perhaps it's because she hasn't slept with you since the night she discovered she wasn't pregnant with Vision's child, and all that has passed between you are brief, perfunctory kisses here and there. She wants to discuss it with you, but she doesn't want to appear too eager or guilty. Instead, she remains committed to being a good wife. And even though being a good wife was never about housework, Wanda ensures that every corner of the house sparkles and shines.
Meanwhile, you go about fulfilling your own household responsibilities seamlessly. From tending to minor repairs to ensuring that bills are paid on time, you continue with the routines that have always defined the dynamic of your relationship. There's no sign of resentment or dissatisfaction in your actions. It's almost as if everything is back to normal. This confounds Wanda even more. She starts to question her own memory, wondering if perhaps this distance, this new version of you, has always been present and she just never realized it. It's possible that you've become this way while she was preoccupied with her affair, and she didn't notice how you slowly adjusted to her unavailability. 
Of course, she only has herself to blame. She's determined, however, to rectify it and make it up to you.
Which is when the idea strikes her. The dream vacation to Hawaii that both of you often fantasized about but never took due to financial constraints and a tight schedule. With the money from her teaching job, she now has the means to turn that dream into a reality. A surprise trip might be the perfect remedy to rekindle the connection that has worn out due to your busy lives and... her unfaithfulness. 
She knows it doesn't atone for her sins, but it's a step in the right direction.
-
It should have been the perfect day for her surprises. She has two of them—the surprise trip and the news of her resignation from the university. She had just handed you the box with all the Hawaii trip details, and you were about to dive in, when there was a knock at the door. 
Two men in dark suits have arrived at the house, looking for her. Detectives—Rogers and Barnes. Wanda uncovers the real reason behind Vision's absence from school, and it wasn't due to personal family matters or a decision to pursue education elsewhere.
He's been in an accident, and they suspect foul play.
Their questions start off simple, touching on the basics. But soon, they feel like piercing arrows as they delve into the phone calls between them, how close they were, and if she ever set foot in his apartment. Throughout the interrogation, Wanda manages to keep a straight face, though deep down she knows she probably can't fool detectives of their caliber. Yet, she silently prays that you don't see past her mask.
“That’s enough,” you interject firmly. “My wife has answered your questions. Unless there’s anything else directly related to your investigation, I believe we’ve covered everything.”
Your intervention when their questions grow more intrusive suggests she's managed to keep you in the dark. The realization that you're still on her side floods her with immense relief.
“Very well. Thank you both for your time,” Rogers says.
But Wanda isn’t done. She has her own questions. She needs to know if Vision's involvement with her is the reason they're here, probing. She wonders if he might have informed the authorities about their inappropriate relationship, and if that somehow relates to his current situation.
“Wait!” Wanda exclaims, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She contemplates asking her burning questions, but with you observing from the side, she suppresses her urge to do so. Instead, she conveys her worry—she is, after all, his teacher.
“Is he… is he okay?”
Wanda's complexion turns ashen upon catching the look on Barnes' face, instantly realizing he's fully aware of her and Vision's relationship. She can barely hear Roger's response, her blood rushing in her ears.
“…that he’s stable. However, he remains in a coma. It’s uncertain when or if he’ll wake up, but let's hold onto hope.”
Oh.
Her secret's safe—for now. But she... she has to be certain. She needs to tie up any loose ends, if there are any.
-
It's reckless to visit Vision's apartment in daylight, especially right after a visit from the police.
Exiting her car, Wanda's sandals softly scrape against the ground. She pauses to scan her surroundings, her gaze flitting from one building to another. The neighboring houses and apartment complexes stand silent, their stillness almost eerie, as if they've been forsaken. She knows that not many reside in this part of the town, a fact that had made Vision's apartment an ideal hideaway for their secret meetings. 
She cautiously approaches Vision's unit, her hand shaking slightly as it reaches for the door knob: locked. A memory surges—Vision handing her a spare key during one of their early encounters. Retrieving it from her bag, she hesitantly fits it into the lock, preparing herself for what she might find beyond the door.
It opens with a muted creak, and a blanket of darkness envelops her. Hesitating at the threshold, she fumbles for a light switch, her fingers brushing against the cool wall before finding it. She'd half-expected Vision's belongings to be packed up, perhaps by a landlord who wanted to move on from the situation. But everything appears untouched, as if frozen in time; dust hasn't settled, and the items scattered about give no indication that the place has been vacant for weeks. It occurs to her that the ongoing investigation might be the reason the apartment remains untouched.
Wanda moves quickly, knowing she shouldn’t linger. Heading straight to the bathroom, she swiftly gathers her toothbrush and a few other personal items she had left behind. As she emerges, her gaze is drawn to the corner where Vision's easel stands. It used to hold a portrait of her, a work he'd wanted to submit for his final project, capturing her in a light she had never seen herself. But now, it’s empty.
A cold rush of panic seizes her. She clutches the edge of a table, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Had Vision decided to move the painting for some reason? Or worse, had the detectives seen it and taken it as evidence? The painting wasn’t just art; it was tangible evidence of their affair. 
But then, in the midst of her mounting fear, a memory jolts her—there was another painting, the one Vision had purchased from the gallery where she used to work. With a newfound urgency, she hurries to his bedroom. The scene is disarrayed, with sheets and pillows strewn about. Ignoring the mess, Wanda goes directly to the cabinet where she remembered he last stored it. She yanks open the doors, and her eyes dart around, searching, but the painting is nowhere to be found.
Desperation grips her. If the detectives come across either painting, they'd have more reasons to scrutinize her further than she's comfortable with. Such involvement would be near-impossible to hide from you. Wanda proceeds with caution, scanning the apartment for any lingering items that could connect her to Vision. Unexpectedly, she finds a piece of her lingerie nestled within his sock drawer. Swiftly, she snatches it up. Before departing, she meticulously wipes away any fingerprints from the surfaces she's touched, then dashes to her car. 
Once inside, she pauses to draw several deep, steadying breaths. It's overwhelming to think that this is now her reality, teetering on the brink of exposure.
-
She eventually finds herself falling off the edge when she discovers Natasha’s email on your laptop, mere moments after the crushing realization that you hadn’t bothered to open her gift.
Her instinct is to craft a lie. She searches her mind rapidly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the intimate handhold. Maybe she could say it was an old friend from the past, or perhaps a distressed student she was comforting. But one glance at the photo and she knows, deep down, that any excuse would fall flat. The way Vision looks at her, with such unmistakable affection and wonder, betrays any innocence she might claim. Trying to explain this to you or anyone else would be an exercise in futility. 
Wanda had played out various scenarios in her mind about how you might discover the truth, but she never imagined it would be through seeking the expertise of your best friend. It was perhaps naive, but she had hoped you wouldn’t notice anything or, if you did, that you'd confront her about it.
But why would you come to her? She's been pushing you away for months, and the only time she truly showed you how much you mean to her was when she was so relieved that she wouldn't be carrying the consequences of her indiscretions in her womb.
In case you need them, the subject of the email says. Need them for what? Wanda wonders. From the way Natasha worded the message accompanying the photos, it doesn't appear you're just discovering the truth now.
No, it seems that you’ve known for a while. Which means—
The pieces fall into place, a chilling realization creeping over her. Wanda's breath catches as she pushes the laptop away, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The way you had carried yourself, especially around the police—it was far too serene, too measured. When they mentioned Vision's name, you didn't so much as flinch or even show a flicker of surprise.
Her heart beats painfully against her ribs. The calm demeanor, the calculated way you’d been moving about—it wasn't out of ignorance. You knew. And for how long? The thought terrifies her. How many days or weeks has she been living this lie while you watched, silently knowing everything?
Your silence, amplifying her betrayal, eats away at her conscience. The quiet before the storm, she thinks. And she's right in the middle of it.
-
“Wanda?”
She’s hiding in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, practicing a smile and a thousand more expressions even though she's barely holding it together.
“Wanda.”
She couldn't shake the thought of you knowing. Did you have any involvement in Vision's accident? You've never intentionally hurt even the smallest creature, let alone another human being, right?
“Wanda!” 
She nearly leaps out of her skin as the bathroom door slams open, and you stare back at her, looking just as startled and taken aback.
“Hey,” she says, forcing a smile.
You narrow your eyes at her, and she shivers under your intense scrutiny.
“Are you okay? You’ve been in here for almost an hour.”
Wanda nods quickly. “I'm fine.”
You continue to watch her for a moment, before saying, “Alright.”
Just as you're about to step away, Wanda remembers the plans for later. “About the dinner tonight,” she starts hesitantly, “with your colleagues from the bank... should we cancel?”
She's desperately hoping you'd say yes. She can't bear not knowing what's going on in your mind. The way you act as if everything's normal is suffocating her. Does she even still know the real you? Every moment you're not cursing her out or confronting her betrayal feels like an eternity.
But you shake your head. “No, let's do it. We already promised them.”
Wanda's heart sinks a little, but she nods in understanding.
“I'll go grab some wine real quick,” you say before leaving the bathroom, leaving Wanda alone once again with her thoughts.
-
Later, as the last of the guests leave, she's certain you've picked up on her distress, noticing how you kept glancing at your watch and drifting out of conversations. She senses your gaze on her as she escorts Scott and his wife to the car, acutely aware you're observing her every move from the bedroom window. 
Though they're older than both you and Wanda, they've only been hitched for two years. Wanda can't help but wonder if maybe things are smoother for them because they waited to get married. But then a familiar warmth washes over her. The memory of how deeply in love she was with you surfaces. Even if you had waited six years to propose, she’s sure that had you suggested it within the first few months of dating, she would've said yes in a heartbeat. 
Truth be told, she doesn't regret it now, the timing of it, and everything in between.
All she's uncertain of is how tonight will unfold.
-
The house lies shrouded in an inky stillness, almost like it’s holding its breath. She carefully climbs the stairs to the bedroom you both share, one uncertain step at a time. The door is slightly open, and you're standing by the window, your silhouette thin and brittle. 
“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from you. Your eyes are closed, and your body trembles. Though she should be consumed by fear, her only desire is for you to open your eyes, hoping to find the person she fell in love with over a decade ago still there. 
“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she continues. But you remain silent, unmoving.  “Y/N?”
Still, nothing. Wanda is slowly but surely losing her sanity.
“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”
“No!” You roar with a primal intensity, reminiscent of a wounded animal in the wild, and the sheer force of it makes Wanda recoil. But she doesn't move away from you. Not at this crucial moment, when she senses how close she is to losing you. “You tell me what you did!”
You stalk towards her menacingly, until you're mere breaths away, and Wanda wants to reach out and touch you, but she knows she'll be burned.
“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me… over and over and over,” you tell her brokenly.
“Y/N, please–” 
“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now,” you say, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you! I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!”
The confirmation she's been dreading, along with the murderous glint in your eyes, saps the color from Wanda’s face. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, hand clamping over her mouth in horror. “Y/N…”
You try to walk away, but your legs give out, and you crumple to the ground, knees first, like a puppet with its strings cut. The tears flow freely now, unburdened by pride or anger. A raw, guttural sob escapes your lips, echoing the pain in your chest. Wanda, too, collapses, a mirror reflection of your despair, her body shaking as sobs rack her frame.
How could she have ever been afraid of you, especially knowing what you've been through? Beneath it all, she sees the woman she deeply loves, now appearing so fragile and torn apart, all because of her own mistakes. “I'm so sorry...” she whispers, her apology a mere drop in the ocean of hurt between you.
“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask suddenly, looking at the carpeted floor before you.
“No,” Wanda answers earnestly.
You offer a wry smile. “He must be really special then.”
She frantically shakes her head. He's not. No one is. It's always been—
“Do you love him?”
“No,” Wanda responds hastily, almost too hastily for your taste. And by the look on your face, she's crushed by the realization that no matter what she says next, your trust in her words may be irrevocably broken. “I thought I did, but no,” she admits. She can't bear the thought of deceiving you further and aims to leave no question unanswered.
“Did you…” you start, staring intently at the ceiling, and Wanda knows exactly what you’re asking even before it comes out of your mouth. The fact that you have to ask leaves her utterly heartbroken. 
“...ever love me?”
This was her doing. The very second she acted on impulse and succumbed to temptation was when she truly lost you.
“I love you,” Wanda murmurs, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, stubborn for her words to reach you. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”
“You love me?” your voice falters, making you wince. “You have a truly unique way of showing it.”
How does she prove it? How can she make you believe? Wanda scrambles for tactics, for miracles, for a do-over.
“After all this,” you continue, “you might as well have killed me. Being dead might be painless compared to this.”
“Baby, please don't say that,” Wanda's voice breaks, choked by tears she can't hold back. She feels the urge to reach out, her fingers itching to touch you. 
“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.” Your voice is steady, each word dripping with cold resentment.
“You can stay,” you say after a while. Wanda senses a fragile hint of hope blossoming within her. But it's quickly crushed when you add, “Stay in this house, for as long as you need. But I'm leaving.”
And it’s here where the panic sets in. The realization that she's on the brink of losing you entirely, not just emotionally but physically as well, hits Wanda like a freight train. The walls of the room seem to close in on her, and the weight of her decisions and mistakes press heavily on her shoulders, making her feel as if she's sinking.
“No,” she whispers. “Please, don't go.”
You start to slide your wedding ring off, and that’s when Wanda loses it. She launches herself at you, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. In the split-second it takes for the golden loop to slip off your finger, a flood of memories rushes over Wanda—the scent of rain as it patters on the roof of the reception, the song playing in the background as you and Wanda sway to your first dance as a married couple, the warmth of your hand intertwined with hers. Those fragments play in a demented, rapid slideshow, and time stretches and contracts, maddeningly so.
For Wanda, it feels like someone's drilled a hole in the base of her skull, letting all the sorrow rush in like a merciless flood. Everything else is white noise. For that brief instant when her lips slot against yours, you don’t push her away. Wanda pours everything she has into this kiss, hoping you'll feel her truth in it. But then, before she even has the chance to deepen it, you’re pulling away and it’s—
It’s over.
Stubborn as always, Wanda tries to hide in your neck, and you feel her tears sliding down your throat. She clings to you with all her might, holding on for as long as she can. But when she feels you gently place your wedding ring into her palm, her face crumples with a pain so profound, she knows she may never recover from it. And then you begin to rise, lifting yourself from the floor. As she instinctively clings to your leg, you take another step, causing Wanda to stumble forward from the sudden loss of support.
“This can't be the end. It just can't,” Wanda murmurs to herself like a mantra, as if repeating it will change the course of reality. She's almost certain you hear her, but it doesn't change your stride; you just keep walking away.
The ring burns in her palm, a searing reminder that her promise of loving and cherishing you always means nothing to you now.
-
Wanda can't quite figure out how, but you've chosen to remain in the guest bedroom for the evening. She'd heard the engine of your car roar to life, but then it fell silent after just a few moments. Peering out, she’d seen you stepping out of the car, phone pressed to your ear.
Who had you been talking to? An intense curiosity had consumed Wanda, making her wonder who had been on the other end of that call. In the short window they'd been estranged—no, just temporarily separated, because Wanda refused to believe that you'd entirely lost your affection for her—could there have been someone else? Someone waiting in line for their turn?
Now, she stands hesitantly in front of the guest bedroom door, hands clenched in her sides,  torn between giving you space and continuing to fight for her marriage. She's torn, but not clueless. It's not just about barging in or holding back; it's about the aftermath. She stands there, frozen, trying to figure out which move won't blow everything to smithereens. Because the time she has with you is running out and there might not be a tomorrow. 
Or a you and her. Ever again.
Wanda finally sinks to the floor, her back flush against the cold, indifferent wood of the door. Sparky, pads over, his little claws making almost no sound against the floor. He nestles himself on her lap, making his bed there for the night. She wraps her fingers around his soft fur, his warmth seeping into her, but his presence is a double-edged sword. As much as she adores him, he's going to be the only thing of you she gets to keep, and it's going to be a painful reminder from here on out.
In an act of despair, she presses an ear flat against the door, searching for the tiniest murmur, the faintest shuffle. Anything to tell her what's happening on the other side of this barrier. A barrier that was never there before. She's on the outside, and the thought that you're moving on, building a life sans her, is terrifying.
It's a cruel irony, she realizes.  Here she is, just a few inches from you, yet completely and utterly in the dark. And so, she sits, hoping against hope, that at some point during the night, she'd hear the door creak open, and you’d scoop her in your arms and take her back.
She waits, because that's what love does—it waits, even in the darkest of times.
-
The next morning, Wanda wakes up, surprised to find herself in a bed instead of on the hard, cold floor. She doesn't recall making the trip, but the idea that you cared enough to ensure she slept on something warm and comfortable almost makes her heart leap out of her chest. 
However, her happiness is short-lived as she opens the closet and discovers that some of your things are missing. To a stranger, the differences wouldn't be obvious, but she knows which shirt and trousers you chose, and she understands the implication. It means you won't be returning tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow either. When she goes to the bathroom, she finds only one toothbrush, and that's enough to make tears well up in her swollen eyes once more.
-
“Thanks for picking up,” Wanda says, her fingers gripping the phone tight, holding onto it like she’s drowning and it’s her only lifeline.
“Well, you've called enough times. Figured I'd give you a break,” Natasha's voice, though distant, is biting, as frigid as the coldness that Wanda has been feeling in her bones these past days.
“I need to know where she is. Please.”
A sigh on the other end, followed by a chilling silence. “You think after everything, you still have the right to know her whereabouts?”
“She's still my wife,” Wanda counters, but it’s weak.
“She was your wife,” Natasha fires back, unrelenting. “The last I checked, people who love their partners don't sleep with college kids.”
The words hit Wanda harder than any physical blow could. She's taken aback, gasping for air as if she's been sucker-punched.
“I—”
“She loved you,” Natasha continues ruthlessly, “more than you ever deserved. And you threw it away, for what? Some fleeting thrill?”
Loved? Past tense? Had Natasha just assumed—
Or was that word coming directly from you?
Pushing down the slightest twinge of sympathy that threatens to surface, Natasha picks up on Wanda's faint, broken breaths on the other end. She can tell Wanda's on the verge, and it's familiar, too familiar.  It's almost exactly the sound she caught when she was on the phone with you the other night.
“I never meant for this to happen,” Wanda barely manages to say.
“Well, it did,” Natasha snaps, her voice cold. “Intentions don’t change actions. And actions have consequences.”
Wanda’s voice comes off a little strong this time, thick with conviction. “Maybe I deserve this, Natasha. Maybe it’s my time to pay for all the wrongs I’ve done.”
“You think?” Natasha scoffs.
“But you... you’ll never get it. You’ll never understand why I can’t just let go, why I can’t give up on her,” Wanda says.
“And why’s that?”
Wanda's voice trembles with the knowledge that what she's about to say is a cheap blow.  “Because you've never been married. You've never committed yourself to someone in the way I have with her.”
That stings, and Natasha can feel her own anger rising.
“Don’t think for a second that just because I’m not married, I don’t understand commitment, pain, or betrayal,” she says, voice low and measured.
Wanda swallows hard. “I didn't mean to—”
“Of course you didn't. But here we are, yet again,” Natasha cuts her off. She sighs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m not telling you where she is. She needs time, Wanda. Time away from you. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”
That's the last thing Wanda wants. She worries that distance will solidify your resolve, turning her from an immediate regret to a distant afterthought.
“I need to see her, Natasha,” Wanda pleads, “Just tell me where she is.”
“Why? So you can make things even worse?”
After a tense pause, Wanda plays her last card, “Remember that night after we all went out? The night you and Bruce...” she trails off, not needing to complete the sentence.
Natasha stiffens, instantly knowing where this is headed. “Don’t you dare, Wanda.”
Wanda forges on, “I never told anyone, never used it against you. I kept your secret. You owe me, Natasha.”
The feeling of Bruce's hand against her cheek, the humiliation, the denial—all of it comes rushing back. She never thought Wanda would throw that night back in her face.
“You're really going there?” Natasha laughs hollowly. 
“I’m desperate, Natasha. I love her. I can’t lose her,” Wanda’s voice breaks.
The line goes quiet, stretching seconds into what seems like hours. Finally, Natasha exhales heavily, the weight of the decision clear in her tone. “I'll give you an address. Show up, try to talk to her, but if she asks you to leave, you respect her wishes. Understand?”
Wanda swallows dryly. She knows Natasha can enforce her terms if she wants, which means she has no other choice but to comply. “Understood.”
Natasha's parting words would later linger in her mind for hours.
“This doesn't mean I've forgiven you or that she ever will. But you get your shot. Make it count.”
-
Wanda’s been standing outside the diner for what feels like a long time. She hopes her outfit—a parka over a crisp white v-neck and high-waisted jeans—makes a good impression. A glance in the reflection of the diner’s window confirms her red hair looks glossy and radiant, cascading in waves down her back.
Time and time again, Wanda had turned over every conceivable strategy to win you back. But in the end, they all hinged on the one thing she feared most: agreeing to a divorce. The very thought threatened to break her from the inside, but her desperation to make things right, to show you that she's changed, made this painful decision a necessary one. Wanda had taken so much from you, taken everything you had to offer and discarded it carelessly. Now, it was her turn to give something back, even if it meant letting you go, legally.
She tells herself, repeatedly, that their love story isn't defined by a marriage certificate. They won't end just because their marriage does.  She had to believe this; it was the only way she could find the strength to move forward. 
Steeling herself, Wanda takes one step forward. Another. Until finally, she’s there.
“Hey,” Wanda greets, doing her best to sound casual as she slides into the booth opposite you.
You give a nonchalant nod, mouth full of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.”
The scent of your cologne is the first thing that hits her, and it’s... different. This one's sharper, crisper, with a hint of citrus, perhaps. It's as if you're purposely shedding parts of yourself that she's grown accustomed to, distancing yourself in the most elemental ways. There's a new watch on your wrist, sleeker than the one she gifted you on your last anniversary. Even the way you hold yourself seems altered, shoulders squared and posture more rigid. Every detail screams of a transformation, a conscious effort to morph into someone she wouldn't recognize. 
But why? To hurt her? To move on? To forget? All of the above? It's been just a week, yet the differences are already evident. Wanda dreads to think how much more will change if she goes months without seeing you.
This isn’t going to be easy, and that’s putting it mildly. “Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules,” Wanda admits.
You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. As you take another bite of your sandwich, Wanda studies her intently, looking for any fleeting sign of emotion, but there’s nothing there but a chilling detachment.
“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” she continues. She's woken up next to you for more than a decade; she’s not easily deterred by the display of indifference. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”
“Okay.” 
Wanda notices the fleeting moment your eyes dart to her left ring finger before you quickly look away.
“I, uh, got something for you,” she says. 
“No, thanks.” 
Wanda’s heart sinks as you dismiss her before even knowing what it is. Determined, she pulls out the small ring box and places it on the table, feeling a pang in her chest. “But it belongs to you,” she murmurs.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your wedding ring,” she says, pointing out what you already know. Your expression darkens, frustrated that she misses the underlying meaning of your question—not about the ring itself, but rather its significance right now.
For a split second, Wanda harbored a fragile hope that seeing the ring might stir something within you. 
But then you're shaking your head, beginning to say, “I don’t want—”
“I understand,” she says, her shoulders sagging as she leans back into the booth. “But I'm returning it to you, and I’m keeping mine. What you decide to do with it is up to you. However, holding onto it on your behalf isn't something I can do.”
The ring she slipped onto your finger five years ago held all her promises, all her devotion to you. So it hurt that you no longer accepted that, no longer recognized it as yours. And she didn't want to be the guardian of that pain anymore.
“Fine,” you say, reaching for the tiny box and Wanda releases a heavy sigh of relief.
“So, you've got your ring back, and I'll sign the divorce papers once they're drawn up,” she says, mustering all her courage for what she's going to say next. “And then, I'll come for you.”
She watches in surprise as you nearly spit out your coffee, a few droplets escaping past your lips. As you hurriedly reach for a napkin, Wanda can't help but offer a gentle smile, always finding your occasional clumsiness endearing even in the middle of breaking her heart.
Your wide-eyed stare meets hers, speechless.
Her smile fades slightly, replaced by a melancholic self-awareness. “I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” 
“I don't hate you, Wanda,” you say. She can tell you're telling the truth, and she smiles a little at that.
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”
She takes a deep breath, knowing she needs to be clear, to lay everything on the table. “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.”
“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you,” she continues, “I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.” 
“Wands,” you say, the nickname slipping effortlessly from your lips, and she has to fight the instinctual urge to reach for your hand across the table. “You can’t torture yourself like this.” 
“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” She senses the skepticism in your eyes, and she can't blame you, not after everything that happened in the recent weeks. You’re my dream, Wanda had confidently and lovingly written in her vows. The memory of that day, with the weight of those words, is as vivid in your mind as it is in hers.
She's always been the type to hold onto what she loves, never letting go without a fight. But seeing the dark circles under your eyes, the sunken weight of your cheeks, she knows the very sight of her is taking a toll on you. And so, she’s leaving, for your sake. 
“I'll see you soon,” Wanda says, getting up to leave. She hesitates for a moment, considering whether to go for your cheek, if you'll allow her. However, the lack of response from you pushes her to take small, shaky steps toward the door and out of the restaurant.
It isn’t over. Wanda’s made up her mind: she won't give up on you. Maybe she's the villain in this story; and hell, there's probably someone out there, all primed and polished, perfectly poised to love you without the scars and rough edges. Except, she doesn’t care, even if she knows she’ll be diving headfirst into the storm. 
She swears that someday she'll be on her knees, asking you to marry her again.
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jade-len · 3 months
Text
so today i tricked my very straight male friend into reading svsss.
okay look, i wasn't planning to at first and it's not like it was completely my fault. he wanted to read it!
i was showing him how badly they fucked up mu qingfang in the donghua by comparing it to the english novel design (he said that mu qingfang went from looking like a soft dilf to a predator registered on the epstein island list). and then, i showed him how different some of the other character designs were like gongyi xiao's ("he looks like he'd be a genshin character" -friend, to eng novel design) and luo binghe's ("lowkey, he kinda gives airbender vibes" -friend, to bunhe eng novel design)
so that was all i was gonna show him, nothing else. but after seeing them, he goes, "these designs actually look hella cool. what's the book called?"
now, do i:
A. tell him the name, eventually revealing that it's a danmei when he looks it up?
B. just straight up tell him that it's a danmei?
C: don't tell him the name just yet, spill the summary, get him interested, and tell him to not search anything up about it because there's heavy spoilers and it will reveal them the moment he types it up on the search bar
i go with C, obviously.
me: so, basically, some guy named shen yuan transmigrates into an incel harem male power fantasy novel where the protagonist, luo binghe, has hundreds of wives. thing is though, the guy pretty much took over the body of binghe's teacher he had when he was a teenager, who turns out to be a really scummy dude. and now he has to be nice to him so that the protagonist doesn't rip off his limbs and put him into a pickle pot in the future to suffer for eternity.
friend: that sounds hilarious and horrifying at the same time.
me: yes it is, and you should read it. it's like. my favorite novel at the moment. but don't search up anything about it because people spoil that shit. i'll let you borrow my novel
friend: nah don't worry, i'll just pirate it
friend: wait. does it have pictures?
me, my plan coming together: yeah, it has pictures. buuut, when you pirate it, it doesn't. trust me dude, i tried and was severely disappointed. plus, the physical copy is so much better
friend: fuck yeah ok thanks
me: hold on though. i'll text you later to see if my friend who's borrowing it rn is done reading it
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he's hyped. he's excited. he craves a good book and a good transmigration interpretation. he's especially happy about the fact that it takes place in a chinese setting with cool powers and an actual good main character. "this sounds so good, god i wanna read it so bad."
i tell him that binghe is actually adorable, too. that it's pretty much found family! my friend then asks if shen yuan adopts him and becomes a father figure or something.
and i said "yes". you know, like a liar. (the father figure part probably isn't a lie though)
now i'm gonna give him the novel tomorrow! of course, i'm gonna cover the chapter 2 bunhe sexual awakening scene with washi tape and say that my baby cousin (sorry baby cousin, you would never <\3) scribbled all over that paragraph with her markers, and since i'm a neat book freak, i put washi tape and just wrote the scene! i don't know if that's really all too believable, but he didn't seem to care that much. just a simple "if my baby cousin did that to my book i would punt them into the sun"
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i think what'll be more hilarious is the fact that you can't really tell that svsss is a BL. especially not volume 1. there's like, only a few lines indicating, but if you remove the baby binghe sexual awakening scene then you probably won't be able to know (...if you don't really read romance or anything. idk he's kinda dense anyways). so let's hope he gets attached and has a slow descent into the homo before i drop svsss vol 2 on him!
ok anyways i'll update you guys later with a reblog. maybe in about two or three days lol
(also don't worry, we already fuck around with each other on a daily basis like this. he's already tricked me into reading some manga i was unprepared for, and i thought that it'd be funny to mess around with him using svsss this time lol)
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nonranghaes · 4 months
Text
heads up! food mentions + mentions of joshua being a lil sick
"joshua hong, you better not be doing what i think you're doing."
the scene, as it is now: joshua is curled up on your couch, a blanket draped over his lap because it's a little chilly and he's been dealing with a slight cold, so he's been taking it easy lately. you've just come home, showered, and are finally dressed in cozy clothing again after a particularly long shift. you noticed that that the last tiny bag of your snacks is missing... just as you heard the sound of plastic crinkling from the couch.
"... i'm not?"
he's not convincing in the slightest. your boyfriend is pure evil. you've always known it, but he typically spared you from most of that--he has friends who gave him far funnier reactions. but the moment he hears you running, you see him shoving something into his mouth--the tiny cookies, no fucking doubt--and lunging to hide the rest of the bag underneath him as he all but face-plants into the other end of the couch.
"joshua!" you jump onto the couch, reaching around him, "that was the last bag, you jerk!"
"i'm sick!"
"you're gonna be sick--"
"that doesn't even make sense!"
sometimes you wonder how your relationship with him turned into this. in the early days, he was a gentleman to you: always so gentle and loving and caring. and then he started letting that image down around you more and more. he teased you, he let you in on his pranks, he became much more unashamed about silly things like this. seungcheol once told you that joshua was a menace, and you'd denied it at first. and now here he is with the last bag of cookies that you love, keeping them tucked close to his chest. you know him well enough to know he was definitely going to replace them tomorrow and this was just a situation of bad timing...
but one way or another, you end up sitting on top of him, watching as he clutches the bag in one hand. he opens it a minute later, revealing the empty bag.
"all gone," he smiles at you that devilishly handsome smile. you don't know whether you wanna smack his arm for making such a big deal out of this or kiss his stupid face. "sorry, baby."
you pout at him. "jerk. why do i love you?"
"because," he reaches to the corner of the couch cushions, dragging out another bag. "it's not the last bag. i wouldn't do that to you."
you don't believe him for a second.
"okay--i wouldn't do that to you when i'm sick and can't go replace them immediately." he holds up the bag. "... split them with me?"
"no." you take it, and then lean forward to kiss his stupidly handsome face even though you know he'll get you sick. he's done it before... as have you, to be fair. "but i love you."
he snorts, and pulls you in to hold you for a moment. "yeah, yeah, i love you, too, you dork."
"mmhm. your dork." you snuggle in for a moment, giggling. truly, you wouldn't have it any other way.
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Note
Hello! I’m not sure if this has been requested yet. But could I request an Ethan Landry imagine with the prompts 1 & 4. “How could you betray me like that?’’ & “I’m not gonna let you get hurt.’’ Could the reader be Gale and Dewey’s daughter too? Please and thank you!
I've been waiting for a request that could fit this scene idea that I had and this one was perfect!!
my taglists are here  + you can requests here at any time
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Your eyes welled with tears as the ghostface on detective Bailey’s right took off their mask, revealing the face of your boyfriend.
‘’No,’’ you cried, barely audible.
The ghostface reveals are known to be shocking, but this — you did not see this coming. Ethan had always been sweet, loving and awkward. He was the perfect golden retriever boyfriend. You really thought you had him figured out.
Yet, here he was, black robe on and bloody knife in his hand after stabbing his roommate to an imminent death.
You felt sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be happening.
You were starting to believe that your life was cursed. You were the daughter of two survivors of the original Woodsboro massacre, it would make sense. Cursed by the bloodline.
Would this ever stop? Or were you destined to die by the knife of a masked killer? You were so sick of these fucking ghostfaces. One of them had taken your father’s life last year. Now, your mother was severely injured and one of the killers turned out to be the guy you were in love with? Your father was right — never trust the love interest.
Beside you, Tara was frowning at who she thought was her friend. How could he have done this to Chad?
Sam’s attention shifted to the second ghostface that had yet to reveal himself. Please don’t be Danny, she silently begged. She had gone through this once, she didn’t want to be betrayed the same way again. She would probably go ballistic if the second ghostface revealed to be Danny.
Everyone was on the edge as the remaining ghostface removed their mask.
Quinn.
‘’Hey roomies,’’ she greeted with a smile. ‘’Didn’t see that one coming, did you?’’
‘’Because we thought you died,’’ Tara said, deeply confused.
‘’Yeah, well it was a way to get off the suspects list.’’
Detective Bailey and Quinn went on about how they faked her death, but you weren’t listening. Your attention focussed on the boy who completely shattered your heart.
“How could you betray me like that?’’ you said as a tear slipped down your cheek, looking right at Ethan.
His eyes were filled with guilt and regret, but you didn’t put your guard down. You couldn’t let yourself be fooled by him — not again.
‘’I’m sorry, baby.’’ Ethan’s voice had shifted to the soft one he used with you, dropping the ghostface act. He made a step to you, but before he could reach you, Quinn did and held her knife against your throat.
You gasped and went completely still in Quinn’s hold, your life one move away from ending.
Rage filled Ethan, glaring at his killing partner. ‘’Don’t touch her!’’ he warned, pointing his knife at Quinn. ‘’She has nothing to do with this.’’
‘’Uh-uh. Come any closer and I’ll kill her,’’ the ginger haired girl defied, tightening her hold on your frightened figure.
Quinn’s threat was not an empty one and Ethan knew. She didn’t care about you or your life.
‘’Falling for the enemy. God, you’re such an idiot!’’
You begged Ethan for help with your eyes, the fear in his mirroring yours.
Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot echoed in the theater and you saw Kirby, back on her feet, firing at Quinn. The bullet hit her shoulder and fell back from the impact, just enough to allow you to slip from her grapes and flee with Sam and Tara as Quinn cursed from the pain.
The theater was large, so you separated. Sam took Tara's hand and dragged her in one direction and you took the other. It would have been smart if there weren't three killers, but staying together made you a bigger target. There wasn’t really a smarter plan, they both sucked.
You pushed a door and took a left, hoping to find a room to lock yourself in, but instead ending up in a long hallway that was a deadend. Fuck. If any of the killers found you, you would be doomed.
You leaned against the wall, catching your breath for a short moment as you asked yourself what your mom would do in your situation. She’s Gale Weathers, she’s intelligent and resourceful — she always finds a solution.
During your thinking, a hand covered your mouth.
By elimination, it wasn’t Quinn — she would have stabbed you immediately. It also couldn’t be detective Bailey because all the man could do was use a gun.
Your eyes widened in fear, thinking this was your moment, but instead you heard Ethan’s voice.
‘’It’s me.’’
A sound that should reassure you and make you feel safe instead made fear rise in your chest.
You pushed his hand off you. ‘’Don’t touch me.’’
Your words hurt like a dagger to the heart. You were scared of him.
He raised his hands in surrender. ‘’I know you're scared of me right now—’’
‘’You murdered people, Ethan. You...you stabbed my mom and killed her boyfriend.’’
‘’That wasn't me! It was Quinn,’’ he exclaimed, quickly innocenting himself. ‘’I could never do this to you.’’
His eyes were pleading that you would believe him, but to which extent had he put an act on?
‘’Was any of it real? You and I?’’
Tears filled your eyes again as flashes of the time spent with him hit you. All the nights watching movies cuddled on his bed, the study sessions that turned into making out and the softest smiles he gave you. The intimate moment spent beneath the sheets. Helping him tape his strange knight costume for the Halloween party because it kept falling apart. When he comforted you after the attack at Sam and Tara’s apartment or accompanied you to the hospital when your mom got stabbed numerous times. You had cried into his chest, wrapped in the protection of his strong arms while the doctors were taking care of your mom.
‘’Yes!’’ he affirmed, coming close but you stepped back, making his heart ache. ‘’Everything between us is real, I promise. You're the only good thing in my life I've ever known. The only person I’ve ever loved.’’ He was pouring his heart to you, not caring if he sounded desperate.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get your forgiveness. Hell, he would get on his fucking knees and beg if needed.
‘’And I believe that.’’ You put a hand on his face gently, feeling his baby-soft skin. ‘’I love you, Ethan. I love you, but I can't forgive you. You…you killed Anika and Chad.’’
‘’I had to! My dad— He made me do it.’’ Tears filled Ethan’s eyes. ‘’I-I wanted nothing to do with this.’’
He rarely ever evoked his father — or his family. All he had said to you was that he constantly had to fight to gain his father's love and approval because he wasn't the favorite son. Was this why he participated in his father's revenge plan?
Your heart ached for the boy who begged for his father’s attention and love, but it didn’t change anything to the fact that Ethan had killed in cold blood two people who called him a friend.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ Your hand slipped from his face, getting flashes of Anika’s body falling from the ladder and hitting the ground. ‘’You’ve gone too far. I can’t—’’
‘’I’m sorry. For Chad and Anika and all the people I’ve hurt.’’
‘’Sorry is not gonna bring them back.’’
Ethan didn’t say anything. Sometimes, silence is best.
‘’I’m still gonna keep my promise.’’
You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’What promise?’’
‘’To protect you. It doesn’t matter if you hate me, you’re not going down tonight.’’ He rested his forehead against yours, looking right into your eyes as he promised. ‘’I'm not gonna let you get hurt. Ever.’’
Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog 
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713​  @marzipaanz
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dxckgrxsonx · 11 months
Note
soo… can we get more dickpic storyline?? IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙏🙏🙏😩😩
okay. so this took longer than i wanted. on the upside, i've got about seven different scenes half written out because this fought me every step of the way.
Jason gets a little jealous in this one which i will explore in the next part ;)
MASTERLIST // SERIES MASTERLIST
**
“Do you have to go?”
Panic snaps tight like an elastic band around your chest and you whirl a full hundred-and-eighty degrees to face Jason, breath still frozen solid in your throat.
There’s a pout settled on his face, bottom lip pushed out just slightly, eyes downcast. He looks almost…pathetic really for someone who has the potential to be dangerous. A mean looking bruise grabs at his jaw and annoyingly, it almost makes you cave right there and then.
“Will you stop doing that!” You snap, pitching a tube of lipgloss in his direction. “The idea of dying from a heart attack is so embarrassing. I either die in an epic shoot-out, or I simply just do not die.”
Catching the tube with one hand Jason grumbles and flops face-first onto your bed, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” He whines, voice muffled by the duvet. “I bought us facemasks. You’re denying me beautifully moisturised skin. This is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
“Aw, poor baby.” You mock, standing up from your dresser and draping yourself across his well muscled back. “Is this worse than the time I blew up your microwave? Or the time you asked me to look after your plants and I accidentally killed them?”
Grabbing a pillow, Jason reaches behind him and wacks you with it, “You’re a horrible person and you’re going directly to hell.”
Sniggering, you balance on your knees as Jason shifts underneath you. Once he’s settled so he’s facing upwards you seat yourself comfortably on his stomach. Jason looks at you with nothing but disappointment when you request his attention by sticking a finger in his mouth, but you ignore him and ask, “Will you be there?”
“Get your fucking finger out of my mouth before I bite it off.” He garbles.
“What was that? I can’t understand you.” Grinning to yourself, Jason rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into your finger. He bites down hard enough for it to fucking hurt and you yell whilst yanking it free. “That was attempted murder. You’re definitely going to hell with me.”
Jason doesn’t reply and you feel the pause in the air. It makes you nervous and you can’t decide if it’s in a good way or not.
“You look really nice.” He suddenly blurts out, and you pause in your anxious examination of your now injured finger. He swallows thickly when you look at him like he’s grown another head, pink splotching clumsily across his cheeks. “But you’re missing something.”
“Yeah.” You agree, trying to control your voice without letting him know that your heart is shaking at the bars of your ribs. “A finger without teeth marks.”
The pink starts dipping to caress his throat and you shift just slightly on his lap, getting worked up about just how far down that colour could reach if you pushed him a little more.
Opening his palm, Jason reveals your lipgloss and he twists it open. You expect him to hand it over to you so you can apply it yourself, but Jason–forever full of surprises–reaches out his steady hand and goes to apply it for you.
His swipes with the wand applicator are precise and you rub your lips together to get them evenly coated, but you end up smudging a small blob of gloss at the corner of your mouth.
Jason’s lips quirk up at the edge and he silently wipes the excess away with the pad of his thumb before you get a chance to even raise your hand.
“There you go.” He says, and his voice is thicker than normal, heavier. “Now you look perfect.”
You find yourself lost for words.
It doesn’t happen often. But sometimes you find yourself grasping at thin air, letters slipping between your fingers like sand.
Well, that's not entirely true.
The right letters are there, but you just don’t know how to hold them yet. And you don’t know what would happen if you stopped hoarding them behind your teeth.
How strange that the fear of something unknown can keep you from being happy; how unbelievably human that is.
Touching the tips of your fingers to the bruise on Jason's jaw you sigh, almost like it’s causing you pain. The colour is dark–recent–not yet starting to heal. Jason exhales and tips his head to the side, baring his throat and letting you explore the edges of the bruising. His eyes slip closed and there's a yearning throb inside you swelling up at just how much trust Jason has in you to be vulnerable.
His hands come to rest on your thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. Sweeping your fingers at the very bottom of the discolouration something catches your eye.
A thin white line stretching across his jugular.
It looks like he’s had this throat sliced open.
Pulling your hand back you say Jason’s name in a near horrified whisper and he turns his head to look at you. There’s something there, written in the lines of his face and the way he looks at you–like you’re everything–but neither of you say a word.
A sudden smile lights up your face despite the sharp wedge of something like grief in your chest and you plant a sticky kiss across Jason’s cheek, “Mwah!”
“Fuck you so much.” Jason says, shoving your head away and wiping the lipgloss from his cheek, but he smiles back at you, Lazarus eyes glittering. “For the record–”
“Oh no you don’t. If the next words out of your mouth are something stupid like, ‘for the record I know you ate the leftover pizza in my fridge last night’ then I’m not listening.”
“For. The. Record…” Jason starts again, “If you’re with me in hell. Then it’s not hell.”
“You’re such a fucking sap, Todd.” Shoving your entire palm in his face he makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and swats at your thigh. “Sweet talk isn’t going to make me stay home tonight. I’m going out and it’s going to be fun!”
**
You’ve got seven messages to say your friends are waiting outside and you wrestle open your door with a growl then turn to face Jason who’s sprawled out on your couch.
“If I don’t text you by one–”
“I’ll come look for you.” Jason finishes. He’s got a mug of tea in his hands and he picks up the book he left on your coffee table the last time he was at your apartment. “Have fun! Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Pfft. I’ve never been stupid a day in my life.”
“Hey! Remember that time when you–”
“Nope!” You interject loudly whilst Jason laughs. “I’m leaving now.”
**
Your shoes keep sticking to the floor.
Resting with one elbow on the bar you sip at your drink and throw a glance around the crowded club. Bodies are jammed together on the dancefloor and as the music swells the crowd rises to match. The entire atmosphere is electric, the push and pull of thrumming bass and alcohol making your hips sway easily to the beat.
“Well hello there, pretty thing. Can I buy you a drink?”
Pointedly glancing down at the glass in your hand with a slight quirk of your mouth you look up and make eye contact with the guy standing beside you. The first thing you notice is that he looks completely out of place; like he would be more at home somewhere quiet. He fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt and you quickly realise that he’s nervous.
It’s almost endearing if not for the whole ‘pretty thing’ thing.
“God.” He says, laughing to himself and rubbing the back of his neck. “That was absolutely horrible–there’s literally a drink in your hand. I’m so sorry. I must admit, this isn’t usually something I do.”
Across the club you watch as your friends zero in on you, waiting for any sign you need intervention–or an escape. Just the knowledge that they’ve got your back is enough for you to loosen your shoulders slightly.
The air around you twists and swells. Someone else has your back too.
“I agree. That was horrible. I mean, pretty thing? Really?” Someone says from behind you, their voice eerily familiar and sharp. A firm arm snakes around your middle and the memory of having that same thick arm wrapped around you whilst you slept flashes bright behind your eyes. “She’s not interested.”
You've never heard Jason sound like that before. He sounds almost possessive, maybe even jealous and it feels like someone just jammed a taser into your ribs and shot you full of fifty-thousand volts.
“The fuck are you doing here?” You ask, leaning back against his chest, skin warm and buzzing. “But also, thank fuck you’re here. Did you hear that guy? Pretty thing? Seriously? I’ve never felt more objectified.”
Jason laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, “It was boring waiting for you to get back and I didn’t feel like doing facemasks on my own. What are you drinking?”
“Something fruity.” Comes your response and you lift the glass so Jason can take the straw between his teeth. “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me?”
Humming as he takes a sip Jason lets the straw go and turns so he can press his mouth against the shell of your ear, “And if I did miss you?”
Your whole body shudders at the tone of his voice and you just barely manage to stop the whine from coming out of your mouth. His arm tightens around your waist and you can’t deny just how good it feels to have him close like this.
“You could have just called. I would’ve come home, you know?”
“I did call.” Jason rumbles, and you pull out your phone to check. “See. I called you twice and you didn’t answer. You’ve really hurt my feelings.”
“Oh here we go again. You’re always talking about your feelings.” Jamming your elbow backwards and into his ribs, Jason recoils in offence. “I hurt your feelings when I stole all your socks. I hurt them when I burnt that cake in your oven. I even hurt them that one time I laughed when you fell down the stairs.”
“I can’t help that I’m sensitive!” Jason defends, the pitch of his voice touching the roof. He shifts to pinch your waist and you smack the back of his hand.
Patting his arm you spin around to face him, and when you glance up at him you suddenly turn thoughtful–emotional.
“You’ve just got a big heart.” You say softly, reaching up to brush your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jason pauses, and you let your hand drop back to your side.
“And yet you laugh at me when I fall down the stairs.”
“Of course.” You deadpan. “Because it’s really fucking funny.”
**
You took your shoes off a few blocks back and they’re hanging from your fingers as Jason gives you a piggy-back ride home. You were fine until you stepped one foot outside the club and then the hit of somewhat fresh air sent your head spinning.
“I really hope my ass isn’t out.” You mumble, head resting on his shoulder. “No one needs to see what underwear I’ve got on.” Jason sighs like every word out of your mouth causes him physical pain. “At least I hope I’ve got underwear on.”
“You are a goddamn disaster.” He says, mostly to himself. Shifting you further up his back when you start to slide down he grumbles, “For fucks sake you’re not making this easy.”
“I live to please.”
“I think I might actually hate you just a little bit.”
“Rude. Now you’ve hurt my feelings.”
“Now, now, pretty thing.” Jason mocks. “Having your feelings hurt is my thing, not yours. So shut up.”
Breaking out into giggles you tuck your face into Jason’s neck and sigh, “The only person I want to call me pretty is you, Jay.”
“Well I’m not going to do it now.”
Without thinking you sink your teeth into his neck and bite down hard enough for it to bruise. Jason stops dead in the middle of the street, his rough hands flex around your thighs and you honest to god hear him moan.
It sounds almost exactly the same as it does on the videos and you shiver.
“Y’make such pretty noises, Jason.” You praise, and run your tongue along the indents of your teeth in his skin. Goosebumps flare up his forearms and you feel him swallow. You wonder for a split second if he’s blushing again. You wonder how far down it goes this time. “My sensitive boy.”
Yawning loudly, you slump your head back against his shoulder, and Jason starts walking forwards again, his pace uneven.
“M’tired.” You slur, half asleep.
“Almost there.” Jason reassures, “My pretty girl.”
**
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sjswrites · 5 months
Text
The Powerful Women of Marvel
Summary: Sometimes, it's not acting. These women are real heroes, even without the costumes.
Warnings: Abuse/toxic/stalker ex, cursing, just overall angst.
A/n: This one-shot is heavily inspired by a movie called Darling with Anna Kendrick. I saw a scene like this and knew I had to do it with my comfort characters. Forever one of my favorites.
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After a read-through of one of the biggest Avengers movies, we all stepped outside, taking in all the excitement of the script and overall direction of the movie. Only women. The Powerful Women of Marvel. There I was in the middle of it. The original, Scarlett Johansson. The next in command and my sister, Lizzie Olsen. Then, there were the newbies. Florence Pugh and Hailee Steinfeld. (Yes, I know there's more, but that’s a lot of people. Please forgive me.)
As we got outside the building, another buzz came from my bag. It had been ringing since we started. Digging through my purse, I emerged with my phone. My feet became one with the pavement.
“Baby?” Lizzie called. “Everything okay?”
“Fuck.” I took off as I shoved my phone into her hands.
“What happened?” Scarlett asked as the girls gathered around.
“Who’s Stalker?” Florence asked while eyeing over the 23 missed calls and 57 text messages. The last one was a photo.
Lizzie held down the message to reveal the photo. A sledgehammer propped up against the bumper of a car. “Shit.” Lizzie took off as the other girls confusingly followed.
I ran as hard as my legs could take me towards the blaring car alarm. As I approached, a man with a sledgehammer took a hefty swing at my side mirror as it skittered across the parking lot. “Hey!” His eyes flew over his shoulder to me.
“About time you showed up.” He threw the handle onto the ground and marched over to me. “Let’s go.” His hand gripped my arm. “Get in the car.”
“What the fuck? Let go of me.” My arms slipped out of his grasp only to be put in a more secure grip
“We are going home now.” He growled in my ear.
“Like hell.” My knee flew into him as he fell to his knees, clutching his precious family jewels.
“You fucking bitch.” He snapped as footsteps quickly approached.
“Leave. Now.” I towered over him.
His anger softened. “You don’t want that. You know it. You love me.” He slowly got to his feet and his hand took mine. His voice. The look… They fooled me once, but never again.
“Babe.” Lizzie called out while his eyes pleaded with me. “Let’s go.” Lizzie slowly approached.
“Get in the fucking car.” He lowered his voice and pulled me closer. His fears now taking over and manifesting as anger again.
“No.” My hand slipped free from his grasp. “Fuck you. If you loved, you wouldn’t have-” His hand came around and struck a fire across my cheek. It wasn’t long until he ended up on floor. I turned back as the blonde was now shaking her hand.
“Fuck that hurt.” Scarlett quickly dragged Florence away as Lizzie came to get me.
“Baby, please.” He stared at me as Lizzie kept whispering in my ear to leave. “You said that we were meant to be. That I was your last. Please.” He got to his feet as Hailee stepped up.
She almost had a whole head on him as she looked down at him. “She said no.” She barked at him.
“Babe,” He pleaded as he sidestepped Hailee. “You know me. You know it’s not me. Come home. Please. It can be how it was before. Just me and you. Together. Like we always planned.” Hailee followed him, keeping herself between him and I.
The sounds of sirens rang off in the distance as he looked over his shoulder. “You bitches! Which one of you did this? Huh?!” Scarlett and Florence stepped up behind Hailee while Lizzie tucked me behind her. “Just let me talk to her.”
“I think you’ve done enough.” Scarlett said. “You should probably leave while you can.”
He scoffed. “Or what?”
“You don’t want to know.” She flipped a switch. At this point, he wasn’t talking to Scarlett Johansson. He was talking to Natasha Romanoff. The sirens got louder as they climbed up the parking lot. “Oops. Too late.” I caught the side angle of the famous Natasha Romanoff smirk.
It wasn’t long before the cops showed up and handcuffed him. After the secure clicks of the cuffs, Lizzie quickly turned around to me and hugged me. My walls came crumbling down as I melting into her arms. The emotions completely overtook me as I sobbed in her arms. My bodyweight outweighed the strength of my legs as I fell to my knees. Lizzie fell with me as she held me.
“You’re okay, baby. He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt you again. I promise.” She whispered as she peppered kissed on my head. It wasn’t long until three other bodies came around me and hugged me.
“Oh my God.” The four of them pulled away as I looked around for Florence. I finally found her as I grabbed her arm and dragged down to her green and purple knuckles.
“It’s fine.” She pulled her hand away. “Are you okay?” The concern in her eyes made my heart drop as I looked away at all of them.
“Why would you do that? You barely even know me. We just meant hours ago. I just-”
“We’re heroes for a living.” Scarlett said. “On and off screen.”
“Plus, he was a total dick.” Hailee said as we all laughed.
The funny, hopefully moment faded from my lips and onto my hands. “I don’t know what to do now.” Lizzie put her hands over mind. I shook my head. “I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve told you. I should’ve-”
“He should’ve never laid his hands on you.” Lizzie hooked her finger under my chin as I looked up at her. Her cold hand brushed over the burning fire of a handprint on my face. I could almost hear the sizzling of cold meeting hot. “This isn’t your fault.” My lips quivered as I quickly tucked it between my teeth. “It’s not your fault, baby. It never was.”
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pleasepeeonme · 11 months
Text
content warning: messing, scat, abdl, mdlg, anal sex
"uh oh mommy I had an accident"
"what kind of an accident, sweety?"
she blushed hard, not wanting to say it.
"i made poopies mommy. I'm sorry."
"don't be sorry, accidents happen. it's ok, I'll clean you up."
"let's see what you did," mommy said as she pulled down her little girl's pajama pants. "P-U! You stink!"
"I know," she said, a smile creeping across her face. She had acted embarrassed at first but really she was proud of what she did.
Mommy cupped her diaper in her hand, feeling the weight of it, then she gave it a good squeeze. The little girl whimpered.
"You did really good for mommy. Now let's get you cleaned up."
The little girl layed down on the bed, spreading her legs in preparation. Mommy unclasped the diaper, opening it up to reveal the mess inside.
"Wow, it's so much. But are you sure you're finished? You can go right here if you're not, it's ok."
"I done mommy. I no need make poopies."
"Are you sure? I don't want to go through the trouble of changing you if you're just going to poop again."
"I done"
"I want you to try for me anyways. Poop for mommy."
"I can't."
"If you can poop for me again, I'll give you a treat afterwards."
At this, the little girl got excited. She loved treats.
"Ok, mommy. I try." She squeezed her eyes closed and screwed up her face as she pushed. Her butthole opened but nothing came out.
"Aww sweety thank you for trying. Here maybe this will help." Mommy started slowly rubbing her little girl's bare tummy. It started grumbling.
"Here, hold my hand. Let's try again."
The little girl grasped her mommy's hand and again pushed with all her might. Finally, a little turd emerged triumphantly from her butthole, like Christ ressurecting from the tomb.
"Good girl," mommy practically purred. She was so happy and this made the little girl happy as well. "I'm so proud of you."
"Now I get treat?" she asked hopefully.
"Hmm not yet. I'm sure you can do better than that. Here let me help you."
She pressed her thumb against her girl's butthole, the poop making it slide in easily.
"Sometimes a mommy's finger can make it easier for little girls to poop. Just relax."
She pushed her thumb all the way in and the little girl let out a fart.
"Good girl. You like that, don't you?"
She nodded shyly.
This time she slid in her pointer finger and moved it around a bit. She started thrusting it slowly. The little girl's little dick twitched in response.
"This isn't working, we need something bigger." Suddenly, she had an idea.
"Are you ready for your treat?"
"Yes! But wait diden you wan me to make more poopies first?"
"We're gonna kill two birds with one stone. Your treat is you get to let mommy fuck you in the ass. You like mommy's cock, right?"
She nodded vigorously. Mommy's cock had been erect this entire time, tenting her skirt. She took off her skirt and panties, revealing her throbbing cock, much larger than her little girl's"
"We don't need any lube because we got all this poop. Now if you feel the need to go while I'm fucking you, I want you to go right away. It's ok if you poop on my cock."
"Yes mommy."
She grabbed her little girl by the feet and dragged her so her butt was just on the edge of the bed and she could fuck her while standing.
It was difficult to press in at first because her little girl was so tiny, but all the poop helped it slide in. She let out a long gurgling fart.
Mommy grabbed her thighs and started thrusting, and with each thrust came a fart, each one different in pitch and tone. It was a sort of music, beautiful in its own way.
"You're a fucking musician, baby. You should join the orchestra."
"You're the musician, I am merely the instrument which you play."
She had lost her baby voice to say this. She was a philosopher by day, and she was prone to interrupting passionate scenes with rants about Nietzsche or Deleuze.
"Your cock-machine is connecting to my ass-machine, desiring production. You briefly territorialize it, playing upon the field, temporarily setting up lines of demarcation before pulling out—"
"Oh I'm not pulling out." She came.
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jonghoslvt · 4 months
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Considering we need more jongho around here, id say maybe something with idol jongho? Being alone at the dorm with him?
Finally, the two of you were able to have some privacy and at the dorms at that. Jongho was always busy and going to the dorms when he wasn’t had its risks. Anyone could’ve been watching, but the timing was perfect-sure it was super late at night but the other members were out drinking and he chose to stay in to have some alone time with you.
The both of you are on the bed, watching a movie, well Neither of you were really paying much attention since there was so much sexual tension built up already. The two of you were way passed being focused on any of the scenes, if anything the both of you were trying to figure out ways to make the first move. Ever so often his hand would brush past yours but he would never make attempts to hold it, his heart was racing too much.
He was thinking of all the times you two were close to ‘doing it’ thinking of all the times you wore revealing clothing in an attempt to start things up. Yes he did get hard but again nothing was done.
The timing just wasn’t right, he’d randomly get called for interviews or a photoshoot when he thought that he was supposed to have some free time.
He’d look at you sympathetically and promise that next time it’d just be the two of you.
But here you two were, alone together, the silence was agony and the TV wasn’t even helping. You thought about the fact that sooner or later the members would return and that alone made you act on impulse. “Jongho..” you called his name quietly, not wanting him to hear just how desperate it sounded. Before he could even react you had crawled on top of his lap and kissed him.
Almost immediately you could feel him getting hard, his hand gripping your waist so that he could grind his clothed cock against your wet panties.
He was not even for a second going to let anything interrupt him so he silenced his phone and placed it on the nightstand whilst still keeping his free hand attached to you.
Your lips pulled away from him and you had slightly gasped for air, face burning up. “Fuck,” he said biting his bottom lip “you’re soaked down there, do you want me that bad?” You whined and grinded your hips down on his lap “I do, I really do.” He groans and places you on your back, opening your legs and wasting no time in pulling your panties down and off. He was practically salivating as neither of you had done anything remotely too sexual aside for some thigh riding and making out so seeing you this exposed had the tent in his pants growing larger.
Almost immediately he dips his head down and starts off by sucking on your clit, the sensation had you throwing your head back and your hands found their way down to his head to grip his hair. You tried not to pull to hard but even if you were he had no problem with that. Your reactions alone only fueled his confidence and made him continue.
He flicked his tongue over your hole and occasionally he’d stick it inside to taste you better. “Ah, jongho if you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”
“Then cum, I want you to.”
“But I want to cum by your cock instead.” Hearing those filthy words leave your mouth had his head spinning, if the boys walked in on this he wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t even have a care in the world at this point. “How about this baby, you cum from my tongue and then you can cum again when I’m inside you yeah? Does that sound good?” You nod quickly and without warning his mouth latches completely onto your cunt, he’s sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit all at once which has you squeezing your legs shut “Oh..fuck..jongho..”
He grips your inner thighs and keeps your legs parted “I’m gonna cum..” his pace never falters, he’s eating you out and lapping up your juices like a starved man, his hard cock painfully pressed against his shorts, to which he just swiftly slips them off so that it can be freed. Toes curling and throat going dry from moaning so loudly your orgasm crashes against you, your pussy quickly getting overstimulated due to jongho still pressing his tongue against your clit and licking you clean. Your body is shaking, head cloudy as he places a kiss on your inner thigh and pops his head back up to meet your eyes “you taste so good, I can’t believe I haven’t had the chance to do this until now.” You blush
“You’re embarrassing me..”
“Mm then should I embarrass you some more? Should I stuff you up so good with my cock and have you begging for me to go faster? Huh?”
You didn’t respond “what are you thinking about?” His face is so close that there was no way for you to break the eye contact. “A closed mouth doesn’t get fed yknow..”
“Just shut up and fuck me..please” you’re silent on the last part which has him chuckling “I can do that baby.”
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creedslove · 14 days
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Proving Dave York's marriage wasn't going that great - Equalizer 2
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First of all, I'd like to remind you all besties that I'm a Dave York apologist and I will forever defend this man no matter how many atrocities he's done (and were those really atrocities? Debatable) and I have also villainized Carol and I have zero regrets about it, so let's go:
• Exhibit A: The trip to Belgium
Susan and Dave are in a virtual meeting talking about the recent case, she knows shes gonna have to travel all the way to Belgium to investigate and invites Dave, who immediately goes like "and leaving this shitty office?"
But, what if the office isn't really his main problem? What if Dave was also looking forward to leaving the house for a little while? A trip to another country seems refreshing and also the belgium chocolate? Dave's excited... And as a husband and a father of two not once he thinks of bringing his family some chocolate? It's a sign of a stressed man who needs some time on his own
• Exhibit B: the hotel hall
Dave and Susan are going over the evidence they found in the crime scene, gathering hypothesis on what could've happened and Dave says there's no records of the victim cheating on his wife with anyone, not even flirty texts and Susan is like "come on, Dave women fuck around too"
And that's Dave's reaction:
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He's like: well....
(also, sorry for the horrible quality of the pic but you besties get the point and also his tummy 🤤)
And then Susan asks him when was the last time Dave sent his wife flowers and all Dave says is: "noted, noted"
So that indicates it has been a long time since Dave has sent her flowers... So the romance is dead, and if the romance is dead so is their sexual life. Was Dave thinking about the possibility of Carol herself fucking around? And let's face it, she probably is
• Exhibit C: the kitchen scene
Commonly used to prove the point that no matter if Dave's an assassin, he's also a good father, the kitchen scene reveals more about his marriage than anything else; we see Dave's got a huge, beautiful house, and then we go to the kitchen. It's spacious, nice, and modern... And messy. One of the kids is whining about grapes and going to the dentist and the other one is doing the homework and Dave and Carol? Absolutely no sign of a loving couple, no pecking on the lips, exchanging glances, a little flirting... Nothing. They are just ignoring each other, Dave's got his cup of coffee and hand and checking his phone as if he's alone.
Then when Carol goes to answer the door, he's giving his youngest daughter attention, he is a good dad, but it isn't a heartwarming interaction between them, and above all, he seems bored, like yeah the kids are cute but he's got more important things to do
And then, when Carol takes a while to come back with McCall, Dave calls her by her name twice, of course he raised his voice because she was in another room and he wanted her to hear him, but it always seemed just so dry and harsh to me and I couldn't exactly figure why it was like that, until I finally got it:
no pet names at all
Seriously?! No darling, honey, baby, sweetheart?! Just a simple dry "CAROL" a couple of times and that's it? It smells like a marriage crisis to me...
• Exhibit D: the driveway scene
The scene where McCall runs into his old team and promises to kill them all; there's enough tension as it is, they all know McCall means business and he is low-key threatening Dave's family by pretending he's so nice and friendly and wanting to get a ride
(I just need to address how dumb and careless is to allow McCall, a man she's never seen in her life get a ride with her and get so cozy around her kids, I mean yeah, he's her husband's army buddy but he's also an old man who also happens to be a complete stranger and he suddenly wants to be around her and her kids, I mean, fuck off)
And Dave knows it's likely one of the last times he's gonna see his family... And what does he do? Does he hug them? Give Carol a peck on the lips? He does NOTHING!!!
So you know what it means? Carol wasn't worthy of her husband, they didn't love each other anymore and Dave would be way better off with me instead 😉🤪
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the thing about rachel animorphs being terribly characterized in all her ghostwritten books but one (and even that one is like. it's not amazing rachel narration but it DOES have the most romantic plot of all time so i forgive it*) to a degree that none of the other characters are plagued by is that to me it feels very revealing about us as a Culture bc it's like. the thing about rachel is that she is a hot blonde who kicks ass. and she's also a complex individual with many sides to her, including (i think if you read her non ghost written books and even just the slice of her narration we get before she dies in the last book this really jumps out undeniably) an extremely real and tender strain of sweetness. and this comes out in some of her scenes in books narrated by other characters. but in her own books, where she's narrating, it's like, they simply cannot understand the assignment, when the assignment is "hot kickass blonde but make her also a real person." it's like that old toast essay about getting insanely obsessed with ophelia because the alternative was admitting that a man needs to be as talented as shakespeare to write a sad girl who's also a human being except it's you have to be as good as k. a. applegate (the shakespeare of monthly mass market paperback children series) to write a girl who is hot and awesome and a human being.
*the most romantic plot of all time is that they have to acquire a beached sperm whale to go down under the water and attempt to subdue a giant squid so that the whole squad can acquire it so they can go deal with the problem on the ancient submerged spacecraft that's fucking up their allies the chee (androids created by the now extinct race of aliens who invented dogs). anyway so rachel hates water because she hates things she can't control and her coping mechanism for dealing with fear is walking into it head on so she wants to be one of the whales precisely because of how badly she doesn't want to be one of the whales (overall her characterization in this book i do think is solid, just the Tone is not quite 100% in her voice IMO), so when they're drawing straws she makes eyes at tobias to use his hawk vision to tell her what's the short straw, and he's like "no i am not going to help you drown yourself on purpose" and she makes eyes at him harder and then he's like "ugh fine" and tells her, and then he draws the other short straw on purpose even though he hates water more than anything but not for rachel control freak reasons, it's because he's a bird and the containment of water freaks him the hell out and also when he demorphs out in the ocean it's not into a shape that can, like, doggie paddle. which first of all is soooo funny and also good rachel characterization because rachel is like constitutionally incapable of thinking ahead for 5 seconds to "obviously the boy who loves me who would love me anyway but for whom i am like literally his primary tie to humanity because he lives as a red tailed hawk and spends his days perched in his trees hunting small mammals is going to insist on coming with me on the scary underwater squid mission just like every other time i have done anything ever" and also because jake gets super fucking mad at her about it which is like getting mad at a fish for swimming. but then the best part is they're down there and both spooked to hell about it because the deep sea is crazy scary and because, again, THEY BOTH HATE THIS CONCEPT SO BAD and are only here because of rachel's psychological problems and true love. and while trying to get their minds off the skin-crawling nightmare of it rachel lets it slip that some dude asked her out and they have this AMAAAZING back and forth where they're both being incredibly snotty because of how they are totally in love and also little babies who have just barely started acknowledging this to themselves much less each other which means that even though they can go on a terrifying deep sea adventure alien war side quest date they are still insanely awkward about like-liking each other. tobias learns the guy's name is T. T. and asks if that stands for total trauma and rachel's like idk what it stands for and he's like well you should find out his name if you're going out with him and rachel's like well i'm not and tobias is like oh. and then they find a squid. it's incredible. then at the end of the book T. T. comes around while rachel's at gymnastics and flirts with her again and rachel basically tells him to fuck off and he calls her "a name i've been called before" because swearing between the lines was an important part of animorphs and then tobias who is watching this whole thing from the sky is like "hey he was cute. and i heard what he called you. cute AND perceptive" and rachel's like "oh shut up (affectionate)" and they go have a flying date together. like literally when will your faves. they ARE the blueprint. sometimes i feel insane for as an adult still finding something genuinely romantic in a pairing from a 90s monthly mass market series for children, but like what other kidlit saga has ever included a tragic dreamboat boyfriend affectionately teasing his girlfriend about what a total bitch she is in a way that genuinely works as a cute thing to do because she and we both know that he literally loves her partly BECAUSE she has no problem being an asshole to people who deserve it and also is so good at killing people? like hello!!!!!!!!!
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I have a really weird hyperfixation on The Mummy, but not the Boris Karloff or the Brendan Fraser versions, those would be completely acceptable movies to enjoy (and I do so enjoy them)
but I cannot stop thinking about The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise and it's a problem
I love bad movies, I love them so much, I own so many b-grade horror flicks, old classic films with terrible acting and awful special effects, I love absolutely shit tier cgi, I love Ed Wood disasters, I love cult classic bad movies, I love really weird niche bad movies
but this one is like, such a special kind of bad movie, I can't really put my finger on exactly why though?? but I am damn well going to try, in this essay I will-
they fucked up from the get go by casting Tom Cruise, like this movie is sometimes deliberately goofy, but a lot of the time it takes itself very seriously, SO seriously, and I cannot physically take Tom Cruise seriously, he turns every single scene he is in into a joke by virtue of his mere presence
but when they have actual jokes, they are so not funny they cycle back around to being really fucking funny
I am watching this movie fucking whiff every god damn beat it tries to hit and it does it so beautifully it's a god damn marvel
Russel Crowe as Jekyll and Hyde??? I actually somehow missed the part where he introduced himself as Jekyll on my first watch, so the Hyde reveal was a true surprise to me and I was very genuinely disappointed on my second watch when I realised it was not supposed to be a surprise, because that was a really fun reveal
and Russel Crowe seemed to be having an absolute fucking whale of a time as Hyde, I loved every moment he was on screen with his stupid cockney accent, I would watch his movie, I know it would be bad, that's why I want it, because there is nothing quite like a bad movie with an actor still giving 110%
and the mummy character herself? she was supposed to be pharaoh and then her dad had a son with someone else and now this baby is jumping all up in her place like, okay baby murder might not be the coolest thing in the world but like, she's got ambition, she's getting shit done, she's hustlin' like go get it girl I'm rooting for you babe
also when she sucked the life out of some dude and turned him into a shrivelled husk my roommate said 'she could do that to me and I'd thank her' so she's got that going for her, like girl's a half rotten corpse wrapped in decaying bandages and she still slays
and then we have the completely ridiculous female rivalry??? like this mummy could kill this woman SO MANY TIMES and just doesn't???? for reasons?????? like she could literally kill her in an instant at any moment but no they gotta girl fight for a bit because Tom Cruise is at stake and why wouldn't two hot women fight over Tom Cruise right?? right????
nevermind the fact that he has been practically nothing but ✨The WooOOOOooorst✨ to her the WHOLE first act of the movie, oh and uh let's not forget the 'duh huh guy bad at sex' jokes that they just could not put down for a good chunk there (but wait! uh he's good at sex actually she's just being mean because he hurt her feewings)
like, this movie hits every fucking branch of the bad trope tree, this movie is playing bad trope bingo, it is collecting bad tropes like pokemon, it has to have them all
also a really bizarre ongoing American Werewolf in London reference?? it was not unwelcome, it was some of the best comedy in the movie (that is an easy bar to jump btw), the actor had some great wry line delivery, I enjoyed it
I think the biggest issue, and the reason I can't stop chewing on this magnum opus of garbage, is that it reminds me of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, in several different ways
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen also happens to be another of my favourite bad movies, but it falls into the particular genre of bad movies, a fucking cool as shit concept, and some really cool as shit visuals, and some very cool as shit characters, but an absolute swing and a miss on the delivery
The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise has That Vibe to me, there is some cool shit here, we know this because the previous version utilised that cool shit very very well, but this one was the only one who made the villain a woman pursuing a man, and not just any man, the ✨worst✨ man, you did not feel very sorry for this guy, honestly watching him go through the constant torment of being stalked by a bodacious supernatural babe who put a sexy little curse kiss on him was fun, he's a sopping wet little meow meow and I wanna see him thrown at a wall, and I get to see that several times, and it is a delight every time
in the previous movie the mummy went after really likeable characters, people who were just generally nice, a roguish scamp with a heart of gold, or just really hot, seriously that cast was beyond smoking what the fu
I did not like Tom Cruise as a character, and to be fair that was the point, he was supposed to have a redemption arc, the story and his sacrifice at the end were supposed to be about him becoming a better person
but he fucking doesn't??? it's like 'oh boo hoo I have made this great sacrifice and now I am a monster and I did it to save my lady love's life even though we had zero chemistry and I was just ✨The Worst✨ to her' and then he fucks off to go and do the exact same shit he was doing at the start of the movie, fucking around in the desert looking for boy adventures
it was a great ending and I loved it because it was so dumb and also he abandoned the woman he brought back to life to go fuck around with his bro who he also brought back to life, I love that for them, go have some boy adventures you madlads you sure didn't earn it but don't let that stop you, just heterosexually ride off into the sunset together it's fine, she is literally better off without you in every way you made the Correct Decision
and then there's these moments, moments that are treated like big moments, and could be really cool moments, but just don't fucking land
there's a part where Tom Cruise starts talking to the mummy in her own language (they got a psychic bond and shit which is it's own cool little thing we'll get back to that) and everyone is watching like 😮 oooh didn't know he could do that wow there really IS magic bond between them oooh, and it's like a Big Deal and Very Cool
but Tom Cruise just sounds like he's speaking gibberish with a mouth full of novocain???? it doesn't sound cool at all??? it sounds really goofy???? I half expected him to start drooling on himself
then there is the ending, leading lady dies, he completes the ritual to invite the god of death into his body (a fucking baller move honestly), he fights it for control as the mummy attempts to sway the beast inside him to her side, but when he sees his beloved laying dead he fights her off, using his newfound powers to defeat her, and then weeps over his lady love begging for her to wake up
and then as he lets the god inside him loose, a terrible monstrous visage takes him over as he bloodcurdlingly screams in her face WAKE UP!!! and the power within him that he doesn't understand and can barely control listens
she wakes, and sees him hiding in the shadows, unable to face her now that he has become something terrifying
at least that's what I think they thought the scene would be like, it was a little more like, some crappy flashback and speed up effects as he becomes the god of death, a really pathetic and uneventful 1 minute of him fighting for control, after which he has a really pathetic and uneventful 1 minute of fighting the mummy, and then as he screams for his lady love to wake up, we get a shot of some absolutely fucking god awful cgi and the most uninspired monster face I've ever seen
I mean, half seen, it was a very dark shot, in fact most of the movie is shot in the dark, a very blatant attempt to obscure the shithouse cgi
except in one scene where it kinda fucking slapped, where the mummy sucks the life out of some guys, and then reanimates their husky corpses as thralls, the way they stand like jerky unstable puppets being dragged to their feet by unseen strings was actually pretty fuckin' dope and the dark scene obscured the details in just the right amount to make their uncannily decrepit silhouettes appear super creepy
this is the only time that trick works, every other time I just want someone to turn on a fucking torch so I can actually see what the hell's going on
okay now let's get back to that psychic bond thing
our main character was chosen not because he was a descendant, or a reincarnation, or just Looked Real Pretty (although I think she did have the hots for him a leeetle bit which is like, girl raise your standards, it's Tom Cruise, he's about as sexually appealing as a wet potato, you can do better), he had absolutely zero in common with the mummy's original choice for this ritual, in fact that guy was not significant to the story at all, I think he was just some dude who was down for some ritual shenanigans 'cause a hot lady asked him (also he was hotter than Tom Cruise so this is a significant downgrade, I feel like if she had the opportunity to shop around a little she might have picked better)
so Tom Cruise wasn't chosen for any reason other than that he's the one who released her, and she sees this as her way of saying thank you, and I love that, it's real sweet, would love if I opened a door for someone and they repaid me by summoning a god of death into my body, that really shows they care you know?
she gives him a little hallucinatory kissy kiss and then manages to follow him everywhere, while also compelling him to follow her without him really knowing it, there is a very cool part where he's trying to drive away from her, but somehow ends up driving in a circle and falling right back into her clutches, that was cool, that had the potential to even be super fucking creepy, she can manipulate him without him even realising, it doesn't matter where he goes or what he does, he will always somehow find his way back to her, that's so good, I love that
and then back to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comparisons
The Mummy 2017 starring Tom Cruise established a concept of an organisation who hunt down, collect, and research supernatural phenomena, with a leader (Jekyll) who also has ulterior motives and is actually not really the good guy, this movie was also supposed to be part of a monster movie cinematic universe, so this really could have become like, the Universal Monster Movie equivalent of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and I would have watched the hell out of that, and I am crushed that this movie bombed so bad and ruined the whole plan
like could you imagine a whole series as bad as this movie? all culminating together as the most god awful Avengers style team up? fuuuck I want to live in that universe so bad
I think my fascination comes from this ungodly mix of real pure potential, those fleeting super fucking cool moments and concepts that, if given to literally any other actor, could have really been something, and the just pure insane failure to make literally anything in this plot successfully land a hit
somehow this movie felt like the completely dead and soulless corpse of a cheap party clown, while the ghost of something incredible flickered in its eyes
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ekdarnellbooks · 20 days
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Jury Duty: Part 4 of 7
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A spicy sci fi romance novelette in seven parts.
TW/CW: non-graphic descriptions of a court case where someone described as a "young boy" was tortured and murdered, graphic description of another murder, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, alien MMC, human FMC, tentacle smut.
MASTERPOST
NSFW -- 18+ ONLY
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A long week, alright, and it was only half over. Eleanor spent her days in conversation with the other jury members, all tentatively agreeing that they’d vote to save humanity, but you could cut the tension in the room with a damn knife.
Nathan was avoiding her, other than the vicious glowers he delivered anytime she dared to look his way. What the fuck was his problem?
In the mornings and evenings, Enzi delivered food to her room. Yes, she was definitely getting preferential treatment, but he never talked about the vote, never tried to influence her decision. Eleanor mostly spoke about Earth, and though it pained her to think of the vote, she was eager to get it over with.
One evening, she had her palm on the interface, ready to open her door after another long day of arguments. The whoosh of air blew her hair back, and then there was a sudden pain at the back of her head and Eleanor crumpled to the floor in a heap. She pressed her fingers against her scalp, sticky blood coating them, then turned to look behind her.
“Nathan?” she asked, nausea bubbling in her stomach as she tried to focus on him.
“You are not going to do this. You are not going to vote against humanity,” Nathan growled, holding a metal tray in his still-raised arm, eyes ablaze with fury. He had just hit her with a damn cafeteria tray.
“What the fuck? You don’t know what my vote is going to—” Eleanor started, but he took a threatening step towards her. Arms raised, she cowered before him, trying to protect herself from another blow.
“No, Eleanor. I know what your vote is going to be. You have something going on with their leader, I know it. You let an alien fuck you and then decide to destroy humanity? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nathan spat each word, laced with poison.
None of that was even true. She had only said she understood Enzi’s reasoning. And she certainly hadn’t fucked him. Eleanor tried to stammer a response, but Nathan spoke over her.
“You’re easy enough to deal with. If you’re dead, then you can’t vote. Humanity can still live.” Nathan looked insane, his eyes wide and a disturbed grin on his face. He wanted to kill her, kill her for nothing, for something she hadn’t even done. Eleanor’s stomach roiled as she tried to take in a sobbing breath, eyes cast down to the floor, dizziness overwhelming her.
“Fuck you, Nathan,” was all she could manage. There was a long pause as she awaited the inevitable blow, and then a horrifying scream.
Eleanor jolted up and there he was, Enzi, standing before Nathan, all his tentacles extended in an obvious act of aggression. He opened his mouth, revealing rows and rows of teeth, and it just kept opening. Enzi’s jaw unhinged and in a swift move, he surrounded Nathan’s head, chomping down with a terrible crunch.
Eleanor had to look away, her stomach roiling as nausea bubbled at her throat. Yes, her breakfast was coming up now, vomit spilling onto the floor as a loud thud echoed through the hall. The sound of mastication filled her head, and she heaved, her entire body shaking.
After a long while, a touch at her back startled Eleanor. She jerked her head too quickly, vertigo causing her to see two of Enzi. A long, pink tongue protruded from his mouth, lapping up the red that covered his face. Blood. It was blood. Nathan’s blood. A glance at the floor next to her, and there was Nathan’s body, his headless body, gore leaking from the stump of his neck.
“What the fuck, Enzi?” she asked, closing her eyes to stop the spinning, to do away with the horrific scene in front of her.
Strong arms scooped her up, cradling her like a baby against his pebble smooth chest. Eleanor wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for comfort despite knowing the alien was the one who did this.
“He hurt you; was going to kill you. He was not fit for duty. We do not allow vote manipulation.”
That’s what this was about? Vote manipulation?
“You didn’t have to kill him. Jesus, Enzi,” Eleanor breathed, opening her eyes to a freshly cleaned Khureno face. Enzi was serious, no toothy smirk that he usually wore. “You really didn’t have to eat him. You told me you didn’t eat meat.”
“We do not consume flesh, habitually. But sometimes, there are exceptions.”
Enzi said no more as he carried Eleanor into her room, letting the door whoosh shut behind him. He set her gently on the bed before speaking again.
“Perhaps I was impetuous. But he was going to hurt you. He was ready to deliver another blow when I found you. I would not allow him to harm you, will not allow anyone to harm you.”
Despite the horror, Enzi’s words brought a flush to her face, a flutter to her chest. Nathan had looked crazy, like he’d had no qualms about killing her. He’d said he was going to kill her.
“Some instances are unavoidable. Like I said, a necessary evil.”
A necessary evil. Like exterminating an entire species based on the indiscretions of the few. Eleanor was starting to see the appeal. Her vision was still blurry, and there was a distinct ringing in her ears.
“I think I have a concussion. He hit me really fucking hard,” she said, closing her eyes. Tired, she was so tired.
A touch at her cheek and her eyes shot open. Enzi’s tentacle, one that extended from his side, was caressing her face as he gazed down at her. He hadn’t touched her since that first night in his room. She had expected the pulse of fear, but it was absent. Enzi wouldn’t hurt her. Not now, not after what he’d done to protect her.
“I can heal you, if you would like. But I will have to touch you more thoroughly.”
“How can you heal me?” Eleanor asked, trying to focus on his face, though it was difficult.
“My functional appendages,” Enzi said, waving his tentacles at her. “I will undress you, then heal you through dermal contact.”
Eleanor’s head was swimming, but she acceded. Nathan had definitely fucked her up somehow, and without a doctor or hospital, she didn’t know what else she could do. Besides, the thought of being naked around Enzi again… well, it wasn’t that terrible of a thought.
“Okay, yeah. Please help me,” Eleanor whispered, her throat constricting.
Enzi nodded, then carefully undressed her, first sliding off her jacket and skirt, then unbuttoning and removing her blouse. Eleanor’s heart raced as he exposed her, leaving her with nothing but her bra and underwear. Any remaining fear trickled away, replaced with a pinch of arousal, igniting her core.
Even with the headache and dizziness, Eleanor’s eyes widened with shock as Enzi crawled onto the bed, straddling her hips as his tentacles slithered up her bare skin. No, she had not been expecting that. Even the tail tentacles wriggled around his body, squeezing between her thighs as the others pressed against her stomach, her chest, her arms, her neck.
It was like she was attached to some sort of weird alien IV, and the effect was immediate. Warmth flooded her body, replacing the chill of the room. Two Enzis combined into one and her headache disappeared, like a balm had been rubbed across her brain. Nausea receded and the ringing in her ears was gone.
Enzi peered down at her, and between the intense stare and the tentacles enveloping her body, the pinch of arousal turned to a pulse, electricity shooting up her spine.
“Enzi,” Eleanor whispered, her voice raw with emotion.
“Yes, little human?”
What did she want from him? Her head swam, no longer with the incoherence of the concussion, but with the confusion of her own thoughts, of the way her body responded to him. The tentacles were warm and smooth as they caressed her body, one moving to brush her cheek.
“Do you fuck all of your guests?” It was a rude question, yes, and was that even what he wanted? Still, she had to know the answer. And when had she cared about propriety?
Laughter grumbled in Enzi’s chest, that wicked grin replacing his somber expression.
“No, I do not. I have never had sex with anyone on this ship, with any of the species I’ve eradicated.”
“Do you want to fuck me?” Eleanor’s chest constricted as she awaited his answer, the arousal pulsing through her core in time with her heartbeat.
“Yes, Eleanor, I very much want that, if you would let me.”
His words set her heart on fire as she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. Without thinking, she pressed a kiss against his mouth, though it was difficult with the way each of their faces were constructed. An electric shock to her core as Enzi’s tongue slipped out, brushing against her lips before moving its way down her jawline and neck.
Eleanor unhooked her bra, tossing it aside as Enzi worked his tentacles underneath her underwear, sliding them down her thighs and throwing them to the floor. His tongue was on her bare breasts now, wetness coating her nipples as Enzi swirled circles around them. Tentacles massaged her stomach and thighs, remaining agonizingly far away from where she wanted him.
“Please, fuck me, Enzi.” Her need was frantic, a desperate urge to be filled, to be whole, after all that had happened.
Another grumble of laughter, not mocking, but gentle. Enzi ran a tentacle across her entrance, already slick with longing, and Eleanor let out a low moan. Over and over again, he caressed her, pressing in the tip and then retreating, before penetrating her fully.
Eleanor gasped at the sudden profusion, the way his tentacle pulsed in time with her quickened heartbeat, though a question nagged at the back of her head.
“You… don’t have a penis?” she asked between moans, as Enzi thrust his tentacle into her.
“I can use all of my functional appendages for reproduction,” he said, and Eleanor took in a sharp inhale.
The tentacles were dicks!
All coherent thought left her mind as Enzi fucked her, a delicious rhythm that fanned the flames of arousal. Still, it was not enough.
“More,” she begged, desperate to be filled, desperate to forget.
Enzi obliged. A second tentacle snaked up her thigh, pressing at her entrance as she writhed against him. It prodded at her before sliding its way in, fitting snugly next to the first, like another piece of the puzzle.
Eleanor groaned and Enzi’s eyes flared, glued to her cunt, his tentacles thrusting in synchronicity. The sight should have been repulsive, fleshy pink tentacles penetrating her, filling her to the brim, but it wasn’t. It was erotic, sensual, stimulating. It made all of her muscles clench as she teetered on the brink of orgasm.
“More!” she yelled and Enzi gripped her throat with a clawed hand, the tentacle extending from his elbow slithering towards her mouth.
Eleanor parted her lips for him as he pressed his way in, fucking her mouth in time with the tentacles in her cunt, leaving her dizzy with lust. A salty musk coated her tongue as her muscles tightened, contracting against him, the excess fullness pushing her over the edge.
All she could manage was a mumbled groan with her mouth full, bucking against him as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Eleanor wanted to cry his name, to become one with him, but this was enough. Aftershocks trembled through her, yet Enzi continued to fuck her.
“Are you ready for me, my bold little human?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
Ready for what? Eleanor just nodded, and Enzi let out a fierce groan. Salty warmth in the back of her throat and filling her cunt, running down her thighs as the Khureno spurted his seed into her. Holy shit. It went on for longer than one would expect, until the groans turned to trilling moans, and then hushed silence.
Slowly, Enzi extricated his tentacles, first from her mouth, and then from her cunt, before collapsing next to her. Sticky seed spilled from between her legs, and she wiped the residue from her lips, swollen from his appendage.
Eleanor curled up in Enzi’s arms, exhaustion sweeping over her like a gentle wave. She should regret this. She should be disturbed by what she’d just done. Enzi was an alien, an alien who just killed a man she’d spent the last three weeks with. An alien playing God against the whole of humanity. The Khureno had wiped sixteen species out of existence. She should hate herself.
But she didn’t.
Not one bit.
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writing-rat · 2 months
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Cleaning Duties
Pairings: Maxine Minx x Lorraine Day
Content: 18+ Content, G!P Lorraine Day, Submissive Lorraine Day, Dominant Maxine Minx, Hand jobs, Breast fucking, Blow jobs
Summary: Lorraine decides to help clean with Maxine when more comes out of it...
WC: 1858
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Maxine was left alone after her scene which she was happy about. She always liked her own time to adjust and think of how well she acted. She was in her thoughts when there were footsteps behind her. She smirked, knowing it was either RJ or Lorraine due to knowing everyone else’s footsteps and pace. She ruled out RJ due to his footsteps being heavy and fast. Meanwhile, this pair was slow and gentle, like she didn’t want to make a sound. Maxine meanwhile kept cleaning around the scene she did, mixing the bodily fluids into the hay and pouring the milk into a corner. “Do you need any help cleaning up?” the small voice spoke out finally, and Maxine just looked over, looking at Lorraine before she walked over, still nude. She noticed how Lorraine was hard though, she even noticed when they were shooting the first sex scene.
“You must need to get cleaned up too,” she teased, groping her crotch. Lorraine let out a squeak of embarrassment as she just got harder at the grope. “Don’t you?” Maxine spoke cockily. “God knows how many times you creamed in your underwear,” she added and brought her closer by using the necklace. Lorraine just stayed silent, her face bright red as she couldn’t speak. “I need words,” she added as she slowly entered her hand in Lorraine’s trousers, into her tighty whities. She smirked as she felt some wetness on her underwear as well as Lorraine’s tip, noticing how Lorraine was leaning into her touch.
“Please,” she practically begged, embarrassed to be pleading. She tried to take off her necklace then but Maxine shook her head. 
“Nope!” Maxine started. “You will not be taking off that necklace while I jerk and suck you off, even when I fuck you later,” Maxine finished.
Lorraine nodded. “Yes ma’am,” she responded embarrassed before she saw Lorraine go down on her knees, slowly pulling down Lorraine’s jeans that she had unbuttoned and unzipped at some point. “Good girl,” she praised as she was seeing the cum stain that Lorraine had. She smirked. “Is this a sin?” she teased. Lorraine nodded.
“It is… I kind of rubbed myself at your scene and accidentally came,” she admitted, embarrassed to reveal that she had even rubbed herself. “Have you ever jerked it?” she asked, soon pulling down Lorraine’s tighty whities too, revealing her dick. It was small compared to Jackson’s, being around 5 inches. Maxine couldn’t help but lick her lips. “No…” Lorraine lied. 
“Liar. Your tone was too high,” Maxine teased. “You ever done it with the necklace on or not?” she asked. 
“No,” Lorraine spoke, truthfully this time. “Well, this’ll be a show for God then,” Maxine stated, starting to suck on Lorraine’s tip. 
Lorraine couldn’t help but moan loudly for her, holding her hair gently. Maxine smirked, starting to stroke the rest of Lorraine’s shaft, loving Lorraine’s reactions. It turned her on admittedly, feeling herself get wet against her legs. She kept going, taking more of Lorraine in without struggle as she felt the gaze on her. Lorraine was being loud by accident but Maxine didn’t mind, she loved hearing her. That was when Lorraine came fast. Maxine immediately started to swallow before she pulled away from her and licked her lips. “You came fast. Such a virgin,” she teased. “I’m gonna have to train you to not come fast, aren’t I baby?” she added. Lorraine just blushed red and nodded.
“Yes ma’am,” she responded before Maxine stood up, pulling Lorraine’s underwear and trousers up. 
“Now, I am going to dress and we are going to go over and have some fun,” Maxine teased. Lorraine nodded, feeling herself get hard again as she watched Maxine put the dungarees on. 
Eventually, they walked over to the cabin they were staying in, rubbing Lorraine’s bulge a bit. Lorraine couldn’t help but whimper and moan a little as they were walking over. That’s when they went through the door, Bobby and Jackson looking up while RJ cooked and Wayne was somewhere else. “Looks like Maxine is corrupting Church Mouse,” Bobby teased and Maxine smirked.
“She is going to get fully corrupted soon,” she promised, leaving the 3 as she looked into her room where Wayne was.
“Wayne, baby, I am going to taint this Church Mouse. Don’t walk in,” she spoke with a smirk. Wayne nodded. “Course sweetie,” he responded. “Have fun,” he added and Maxine smirked, walking over to Lorraine and RJ’s room, swaying her hips more while Lorraine followed behind. She couldn’t help but stare at Maxine’s ass and she knew that Maxine knew.
“Lay down on the bed after stripping down, Mousy,” Maxine commanded, closing and locking the door. 
“Yes ma’am,” Lorraine stated, obeying as she fully stripped down. Maxine watched. “Which way ma’am? Frontal shown?” Lorraine asked shyly. Maxine nodded. “I want to see your tits and dick,” Maxine clarified. Lorraine started to lay down, her legs open. Her dick was still hard and was eager for attention and Maxine knew that as she sauntered over. Lorraine watched intently, Maxine stripping down as she was walking. Lorraine started to stroke herself subconsciously. “Sinning again, hm?” she teased. 
Lorraine blushed hard as she nodded, still stroking. “Want pleasure ma’am,” she moaned. 
“Well stop stroking, I want to be the one to pleasure you,” she demanded, sitting down next to her. Lorraine stopped. Maxine started to admire Lorraine’s dick, looking it up and down as she smirked. “What are you doing?” Lorraine asked, gasping as her head was rubbed. “Examining your dick. It’s perfect. Average, girthy and also veiny. I think this has to be my favourite yet,” Maxine explained, looking it up and down before she started to stroke it. Lorraine moaned loudly as Maxine smirked. “I want you to hold your cum as long as possible, ok baby girl?” Maxine informed. Lorraine nodded. “I will try ma’am,” Lorraine promised. Maxine smirked and nodded.
“Good girl,” she praised as she kept stroking her before she was fondling her balls and sucking on Lorraine’s dick. She loved how the girl underneath her was obedient, even keeping the cross necklace on, and also how submissive she was. She always wanted a submissive girl, Bobby being more dominant over her after all.
Lorraine was holding onto the bed tight, loving the pleasure she was getting. Maxine soon rubbed her breasts, reaching towards her nipple. Lorraine couldn’t help but whimper and gasp at the same time, Maxine still sucking on her dick. Lorraine soon came, unable to help it. Maxine swallowed it again as she looked up. “You’re sensitive hm?” she teased Lorraine. Lorraine nodded.
“I never came until today,” she admitted shyly, knowing Maxine would tease her even more. “Cute little virgin hm?” she teased. Lorraine nodded, embarrassed. That’s when Maxine started to sit up. “God, you got me so wet baby. I am going to ride you now. You will ask to cum. If you do it too early if I say no then you will be punished, got it?” Maxine informed. Lorraine nodded.
“Yes ma’am, I understand,” Lorraine responded, watching as Maxine smirked then slowly started to go down on Lorraine’s dick. 
Lorraine was not used to the pressure and it was obvious as she let out the loudest moan she made so far. Maxine smirked at that, Lorraine’s dick soon fully inside. Maxine was quietly moaning. “Fuck, I am loving this dick,” she moaned, starting to ride Lorraine. Lorraine was watching unable to speak as she felt Maxine's pressure against her dick while staring at her breasts. She licked her lips as she was moaning loudly, knowing they could be heard around the whole cabin, she was sure. Lorraine was soon groping at her breasts, rubbing them as she was opening her legs wider. 
Maxine kept riding, moaning as her breasts were groped. She loved it so much as her breasts were also pleasured. Lorraine was like a needy little girl, which she technically was. Maxine kept riding hard, leaning into the touch before she leaned down and kissed Lorraine hard. Lorraine squeaked in surprise before she kissed back, just as deep and passionate as Maxine kissed. Maxine loved that as Lorraine also had more of a grasp on her breasts. “Good girl,” Maxine moaned, riding harder and faster, clenching tighter. “Can I please cum?” Lorraine moaned, begging practically. 
“No,” Maxine commanded. Lorraine nodded, groaning as she felt how Maxine was clenching tighter. “Fuck,” Maxine moaned louder, cumming. She clenched even tighter when Lorraine came as well. 
“You came without permission huh?” Maxine asked after a few seconds, both catching their breaths. Lorraine nodded, ashamed.
“Yes,” Lorraine admitted. Maxine smirked as she sat on the bed.
“Bend over my lap,” she commanded and Lorraine nodded, doing as told. She was embarrassed as she felt her dick on the inside of Maxine’s thigh. She let out a yelp when her ass was spanked. She hadn’t been spanked since she was 7 so this made her shocked… and harder? She was embarrassed as her dick twitched, and Maxine smirked. 
“Kinky little fucker,” she teased as she spanked harder. “Not gonna stop me getting harder with my slaps, however. Now I want you to count,” she added. Lorraine moaned louder.
“1,” she counted. She couldn’t help but get more excited. After 14 more spanks, Lorraine was panting. She had even cum by accident on the floor but it would be cleaned soon. 
“Good girl, now as a treat for accepting your punishment, you can fuck my breasts if you want, hm?” she teased. Lorraine got even more excited as she nodded.  “Yes please ma’am,” she spoke and Maxine nodded, laying down as she was holding her breasts together. “Come on,” she spoke and winked. Lorraine quickly crawled above her, positioning her dick before she started to thrust. Maxine smirked, starting to suck on Lorraine’s small breasts as they were hanging in front of her face. Lorraine was louder as she kept going, loving the pressure and loving the sucking on her breast as well.
 
She was like a rabbit with her pace of thrusting, and Maxine noticed as she smirked. She would train her just like a dog would need. She kept sucking, however, thinking how she would train her eventually. She was surprised when she felt her face, chin and breasts get wet a little before she realised Lorraine had come. “Good girl,” she praised, Lorraine getting up as she panted before she started to cuddle up against her. She was officially tired. 
“Thank you, ma’am,” she spoke with a smile. 
“It’s no problem baby. Now, let’s get clean, get some food and then we can sleep with Wayne,” she spoke quietly. “But… what about RJ?” she asked, tilting her head. “Fuck him, you deserve better but I also need to train you,” she added. Lorraine nodded.“I’m gonna have to call my parents about it then,” Lorraine added. Maxine nodded and smirked. “I want to be trained by you,” she added and Maxine nodded before she was getting up. “Now let’s get ready for dinner,” she spoke. Lorraine nodded, excited for food.
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atopvisenyashill · 2 months
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is it okay that this lady is in the dead ladies club?
i simply wanted the excuse to talk about the moms. i'm not including ashara, elia, or lyanna in this, because the last two are plot relevant deaths and ashara's is left purposefully mysterious I think because we are going to get some sort of answer there (not even implying "lemore is ashara" here, i think the fact that we have conflicting info on her does mean something about her baby being relevant to the tower of joy, which means howland or bran/the weirwood hivemind are going to reveal that to us. will it be a huge reveal that shakes the earth? i mean, probably not, but i do think it will be relevant).
let’s gooo-
joanna lannister is a dead mom with some narrative weight to her. all three lannisters think about how different their lives might have been, define themselves by the gaping absence of her in their life, and the fact that jaime commits more violence in the riverlands, convinces himself it’s a job well done, and of all people it’s his MOTHER who comes to him in a dream just to be like “this is your conscious speaking, you’re a fucking idiot get your life together dude,” you really feel that this is a family that was wrecked by the loss of their mother at a young age. it Is noticeable that we don’t get much of an idea of her personality compared to the men tho.
can she stay in the dead ladies club? yes, i think this is a well thought out dead mom, i simply wish she had slightly more characterization than “loving mom & wife.”
minisa whent gets less characterization, i think bc we only have cat as insight into her, so i can sort of forgive that, esp since i do think it’s noticeable that for all cat is really fuckijg busy most of the time, she does think about her mother and wonder if she would have been happier with her mother around. lysa & edmure only get to be Like That because they really had no adult taking care of them except cat who was still all but a child herself, so you can feel minisa’s absence in the characterization of her children and the damage her death did to the tully siblings.
can she stay in the dead ladies club? yes, i think this is a well thought out dead mom, although once again i wish we had the opportunity to get information on the type of person she was outside of "loving mother." i do think that minisa and joanna are meant to mirror each other in this way though - they died so young that they are forever frozen in the minds of their children as these paragons of goodness, as a reminder of where their lives went wrong, and what might have happened if things had been a little less sad for them.
what’s interesting about loreza nymeros martell is that we don’t even know what her actual name IS or her age or when she died AND YET despite how little time we spend with characters that knew her, Doran names her as an influence on him and quotes her, and this scene - “this is your kingdom” in the water gardens - is usually pointed to as one of those scenes that are The Point Of The Series. the writing around her is certainly clunky but at least you can tell there was thought put into the kind of person doran’s mother was and how she might have influenced doran's life. i also think it's notable here that we know she was up to things besides giving birth - she was a lady at court, she was friendly with joanna and rhaella, she was attempting to engage her kids to non dornish lords so she was clearly very pro-Dorne Being Involved as opposed to having an isolationist bent. we know a decent amount about her personality, and we don't even know who she marries, which is honestly kind of funny - so many of these characters only think about their fathers yet doran only thinks of his mother.
can she stay in the dead ladies club? yes, but we are deducting points for not having arianne think about her at all and also still not knowing her name.
cassana eastermont is a question mark but to be fair,,,,,so is steffon and that is kind of the point of both of them. cassana and steffon were at court, and then died, so like the other siblings of this era, the baratheon boys grew up Without An Adult In The Room except for Maester Cressen. the tragedy of Cressen being helpless to keep his boys together, and dying in a vain attempt to save what’s left of stannis and renly’s souls, it doesn’t really work if any of them have a lot of fond memories that they dwell over of cassana or steffon. and no one has any real idea how aware steffon was of the whisperings of rebellion against aerys because they’re so absent from the narrative, it’s funny that their son then became the face of that rebellion despite steffon’s targaryen mother. BUT. yeah it does objectively suck that we don’t know what cassana was up to before she had her first baby and then she dies, bc at least we know steffon was alive and doing shit, we’re just fuzzy on what. cassana begins and ends as a wife and mother, that really sucks and i wish we had gotten a single person throwaway commenting about her.
can she stay in the dead ladies club? yes, but i think if we had some throwaway lines about her, as an example, fostering at Storm's End so Rhaelle had some female company (since she had no daughters, and only the one son) and her and Steffon met and married that way, so that we know she existed before becoming a mother.
rhaella targaryen is an interesting example because we not only have several characters who remark on her and knew her, we actually get a significant amount of characterization for her. she was clearly romantic enough to entertain fantasies of running off with bonifer hasty and yet pragmatic enough to not pull a stunt like that. "mindful of her duty" as it's put, but also rebelling against her brother-husband in ways by being openly kind to rhaegar and embracing rhaenys and elia. stubborn enough to crown viserys on dragonstone. a loving mother whose loss broke viserys' mind. but...like did she have to die in childbirth? did daenerys have to have no memories of her whatsoever? would it not have been perfectly within the plot george wanted if rhaella and ser willem darry were with her, and died of a fever at the same time?
can she stay in the dead ladies club? no, i think it's really annoying and dumb that rhaella dies on dragonstone giving birth to dany. i dont think it changes the plot in any way if rhaella had stayed alive for four or five years after dany's birth, and if dany thought about her mother from time to time. it is honestly one of the my Main quibbles with this series, that dany never thinks about the women in her family when she thinks of leaders and rulers, only the men.
lyarra stark is in my opinion the most egregious example of a woman in the dead ladies club. no personality, no in canon mentions of her, no idea when she dies, george didn't even think about her until twoiaf. there were theories and mystery surrounding her and the answer was "george did not think she was relevant" and it sure is fun and intersting to look at which dead characters are irrelevant and which ones get characterization (see comments about steffon vs cassana). i get wanting most of the grandparents to be dead by the end of robert's rebellion - a lot of the point is that the sets of siblings from the rebellion era are very isolated from their childhoods, signified by the losses of their parents and especially their mothers (as motherhood and childhood are kind of intrinsically linked together). but why did she have to die before the rebellion? why does ned never once think about her? why must it always be the mother who is inconsequential while the father makes history? to throw george's own words at him, the woman is important too!
can she stay in the dead ladies club? no, there's just no reason why she couldn't have lived to the rebellion, been the Stark in Winterfell alongside Benjen, and died during the war, either of grief, shock, or potentially even after an attempt at finding lyanna herself goes awry.
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shuniverse · 9 months
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dark nights ,, g.tnka
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🧷 I decided to write gundham because I adore that man and I want to marry him fr 😔❤️
🎐 f!reader (because I’m self-indulgent 🥲) ;; cute fluff ;; a storm ;; gundham + a tight muscle shirt 🤭 ;; gundham calls you paramour and dove and darling because those nicknames suit him and they’re so fucking cute 😭 ;;
;;
gundham had invited you over, missing your company, because ‘even the supreme overlord of ice gets lonesome in his abode.’
you happily obliged however, also missing the warmth you felt in your boyfriend’s apartment, as well as his adorable little hamsters, the devas.
and so, you’re driving to his home, playing some low, soft songs on the way there, your bag packed in the passenger seat with hoodies and other assorted clothes, and your hair done in a messy bun in the back of your head with light bangs framing your face, and subtle dark eyeliner around your eyes.
finally arriving at his door, your things in hand, you knock on his door.
you giggle at the rustling behind it, and you smile softly when the door finally opens, revealing your boyfriend with his hair down and messy, face mostly clean aside from the gentle eyeshadow still around his eyes, in a snug black tee that accentuates the subtle muscle of his arms and the thicker muscle of his chest, and loose grey sweatpants hanging low around his hips. he looks absolutely delectable.
“darling? you’re gawking, is something the matter?”
his comfortingly deep voice pulls you out of your trance, and you giggle and nod. “sorry, baby, you’re just super pretty.”
his cheeks flush at the compliment, ever the shy guy despite his normal persona. “ah, thank you, my paramour.”
you nod, stepping forward to press a kiss to his lips, more prominent now that the pale foundation isn’t covering them, and he reciprocates happily with a ringed hand to your cheek.
he pulls away though with a beautiful close lipped smile. “let us get inside, my love, we mustn’t let it get cold. besides, I’ve been dying to feel your most comforting presence in my dark abode.”
once again, you nod, and step inside and walk to his room, where you set your things. you know he doesn’t mind, he’s let you know, and you’re comfortable considering you’ve been together for two years. you’re surprised you’re not living together at this point.
you leave his room, having stolen one of his hoodies, which makes him chuckle when he notices. “cold, my dove?”
you giggle. “yeah, it was kinda chilly outside, especially with the rain coming in.”
he nods with a knowing grin on his defined features. “of course, I understand, love. come, I’ve prepared some movies for us to enjoy. ah, but first, please make yourself comfortable, I’ll go grab our treats for the night.”
“ok, baby.” you smile and kiss his cheek while he presses one to your head, lifting your hand and kissing the back of it, before walking to the kitchen to retrieve your snacks.
god I got lucky with this man, you think, he’s perfect.
as soon as you utter those words, you notice four familiar little blobs in your peripheral vision, and you turn your head to see the devas crawling over to you to cuddle against you, maga-z gently nibbling on your forearm, making you giggle. “hi, babies. miss me?”
you smile fondly at them. cuties, they are.
gundham walks back into the room, seeing the cute little scene, and he smiles. “how adorable. a goddess with fearsome creatures, shall I call you circe?”
you giggle at his reference, knowing Circe is one of your favorite Greek goddesses. “I wish, baby, but she’s too cool for me.”
“oh nonsense, dove. you’re goddess enough for me, and I think that suffices enough, yes?”
you smile and kiss his arm as he sits down next to you. “I suppose, love. now, what movie do you have picked out?”
he gives a small smile as he pecks your temple before handing you a bowl of fresh fruits as well as the chips he knows you love. “I’ve picked out a few, darling, just let me know what you’d like to watch, okay?”
you nod, getting comfy and munching on your fruits.
he scrolls through movies he rented for you, passing through Atlantis, The Phantom of the Opera, The Conjuring, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Incantation - and as soon as he stops on that, your face lights up; it’s your favorite horror movie.
“Ooh, ooh, that one!”
he chuckles. “okay, my paramour, we shall watch this one.”
you smile giddily at him and kiss his cheek. “thank you baby.”
he gives you a warm smile, one you’ve grown to love and appreciate, seeing as it usually only comes out with you. “anything for you, my dove. let’s watch now, I know you’re practically vibrating in your seat.”
you giggle at his comment, snuggling up close and grabbing a chunk of watermelon and handing it to gundham, who opens his mouth for it. you pop the fruit into his mouth, and he chews with a little smile, waiting til he’s done to kiss your head and speak again. “thank you, my paramour.”
nodding, you chomp on a piece of your own. “of course, pretty boy. let’s watch the movie now!”
he gives a small laugh, turning on the movie for you both to watch.
all goes well, until about 10 minutes later, thunder booms outside, and a flash of lightning is the last shine of light you see before all goes dark.
you scream, clinging onto gundham. you wouldn’t necessarily say you have a fear of storms, but this one got to you.
you feel arms wrap around your form in a comforting manner, and a kiss is pressed to your head as a hand brushes down your hair. “shh, my love, all is well, it’s just a power outage, you are okay.”
you bury your head into gundham’s thick chest, whimpering a bit. “are.. are the devas okay?”
he smiles against your head, feeling the aforementioned hamsters crawl and snuggle against his neck, and close to your head. “yes, darling, they’re just fine. are you?”
you pause for a moment, before looking up at him, faintly seeing his defined facial features from what little light is coming through the window, and nodding. “yea, I.. I’m fine, baby.”
he nods in response, kissing your forehead. “good, that’s good. I suppose no movie then?”
you pout, before sitting up and grabbing your snacks. “let’s just head to your room, baby. it’s comfy in there, and we can light candles!”
he chuckles at your enthusiasm, standing up and holding out a hand for you to hold. “let us go then, dove.”
you both head down to his bedroom, the familiar smell of incense and cedarwood filling your senses, making you smile, and you plop down on his bed, the black silk sheets comforting you with the plush pillows.
he gently grabs your snacks and places them on the bedside table, and he picks up a candle from a drawer, lighting it, and setting it down. the smell is a mix of lavender, and musky oak-like wood. he then turns to light and burn some incense as well, the woodsy smell complementing the candle.
he smiles at you now, and you lay back on the sheets comfortably, opening your arms to the beautifully misunderstood man in front of you, who happily takes your invitation and gets on the bed to lay comfortably on top of you, the top of his dark head close to your chin.
you press a kiss to his head, feeling drowsy and comforted by the way he runs his hands up and down your sides, and he presses a kiss to your collarbone.
“a nap would be good now, darling, storms are good for sleep. let us rest, and feel rejuvenated when we wake.”
you smile, nodding, softly scratching the base of his neck with your nails. “sleep.. sounds good, my love.”
he sighs deeply, his deep and rumbly voice making you warm inside. “sleep well, my paramour.” and with a kiss to your jaw, he’s snuggled his head against you, on his way to dreamland.
and it’s now that you realize, however.
this.
this is home, you think.
and you think you could stay til those candles burn out, til all of them do.
or forever.
yeah, that. that’s a good idea.
;;
hope you enjoyed this!! I love writing for gundham :((( he makes me so so happy and I want a boyfriend like him 😭😭
feel free to like and reblog, it’s greatly appreciated!!
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