#fix your shit america

[berandomness]

Death to america, country of losers dragging the whole globe down with them.

[goatpaste]

"Wrote a transgender man as being in a woman's prison and misgendered him" This is such a stupid take lmao that was the point. Its 2011 Florida. The asshole prison doctor misgenders a trans person who was being put in the wrong prison. The main character didn't react past seeming confused then positive. It's not framed as a good situation. It still happens. What a westerner moment of media literacy lmao. Guess araki is a transphobe. Never read other shonens you'll get a heart attack lol.

I'm literally about to start charging 50 bucks for you guys to send me ask like this to my inbox

[luckystrike-x]

.

[starfieldcanvas]

as best I understand it, "settler" (in the pejorative sense) is an emergent property that only exists within any nation-state where some subset of the indigenous population legally or functionally has less ability to own the land they live on compared to the nation-state's preferred subgroup. if the indigenous population is neither legally nor functionally disempowered, then there are no settler-colonialists: there are only immigrants.

the solution to "being a settler everywhere you go" is not finding a homier homeland, it's dismantling the practice of discriminatory land management enforced by state violence.

‘Where, on planet Earth, would a Jew not be considered a settler?

This is a serious question, one to which I have yet to get a satisfactory response. I posted about it and a few joke replies arrived (“Florida”) but it does seem as if a lot of people are stumped.

We’re living in a moment when much of the left has embraced the idea that social justice is the global struggle against “settlers.” Whether actual Indigenous North Americans want this or not, this is what the self-righteous have honed in on. It’s a line of thought that predates the current war in Israel and Gaza, but that is, let us say, having a moment.

As an ostensibly progressive worldview, it poses some problems for Jews. And no, not just pro-Israel ones, or Jews who are for some reason rah-rah 19th century colonialism. If you’re meh on Israel, and think Jewish rootlessness is our cosmopolitan charm, and say to hell with ethno-nationalist homelands and whatnot, let us be citizens of the world, then more power to you, but good luck squaring this with a progressive movement that classifies everyone across the globe as either home, displaced from home, or invading someone else’s house.

This is why I’m going to have to say that I do think, in this case, language matters. Insisting on a global anti-settler movement is different from, for example, supporting Truth and Reconciliation. Demanding human rights and fair treatment is different from declaring some percentage of the population as occupiers based on their ancestry.

So I will repeat the question. Where is a Jew not—per these definitions—a settler?

In North America, all Jews who are not Indigenous—and that would be the vast majority of us—are settlers, according to the understanding that defines all such populations as such. Not just Jews whose ancestors literally settler-colonized Canada back in the day, but even those who arrived last week. (Syrian refugees in Canada: also settlers, by this definition.)

In Israel, according to anti-Zionist understandings, all Jews are settlers. Not just Jews living in the settlements. Not just Jews living in the post-1967-specific borders. An Israeli Jew in Tel Aviv is, by the understandings of those who think Israel itself it illegitimate, no matter its borders or leadership, a settler.

How about Europe, then? I have this vague recollection of something happening, 1930s-1940s-ish, where it was decided that Jews, long understood by many to be a foreign element (thus the antisemitic hurling of go back to Palestine), were extremely not in their own rightful homes when on that continent.

If a modern Jewish nation-state had, as some are furiously posting these days, been put in Europe, rather than ever so colonially in the Middle East (never mind the historical connection of Jews to that land, never mind Mizrahi Jews), that theoretical state would have displaced someone and would have been a settlement, and therefore unacceptable. “Settlers are not civilians. This is not hard.”

It’s even “settlement” when Jews are in our “native areas,” one is reminded, perusing the Wikipedia page of Birobidzhan.

Unable to settle in the areas they were from, some Jews were resettled within the former Soviet Union. How did that work out? Not great, but to stay on point, I have put certain words in bold: “Logistically and practically, settling Birobidzhan proved to be difficult. Due to inadequate infrastructure and weather conditions of the area, more than half the Jewish settlers who relocated to Birobidzhan after the initial settlement did not remain.”

It ought to be—it is—possible to care about currently or historically displaced peoples without dividing the world into those who have a historic right to live where they do, and those who are effectively gentrifiers (whatever their financial position) and should scram. The down-with-settlers approach is tricky for refugees generally, but is particularly weak when it comes to stateless ones, who show up, uninvited, and don’t even have a homeland to be sent back to. Jews at this point have a state, but a state that is itself often considered mere settlement.

There is nowhere on this planet that I could live without it being very problematic of me to do so. Which rather forces my position. As long as I’m alive, I have to occupy space somewhere.’

[thesoundofmadness]

what the hell is threat to Survival even about like. what's the message here

[hoshifighting]

✨🎧 god of the music!woozi x fairy of the music!reader

— SYNOPSIS: after a moment of lost creativity, the god of music accidentally evokes a beautiful music fairy who is willing to help him.

— WC: 6.400

— WARNINGS: winx musa!reader, fantasy + smut, reader have a size of a polly pocket at first (she goes human-sized after), reference to when captain america picks up thor's hammer, shiny cum, he can stimulate reader with his voice + other powers, mind reading, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), reader is referred as: little fairy/pretty fairy/pixie, woozi referred as: woozi/god woozi/god boy, sub!reader x dom! woozi.

this god, sitting there with his head in his hand like the weight of the whole damn universe was gonna break his neck. the throne he sat on was ridiculous, all sharp edges and glowing veins of gold, like someone tried to make it scream power but forgot comfort was a thing. his other hand held this pen—this otherworldly thing, like it was plucked from the cosmos. the handle was black obsidian, smooth as sin, and at the top, a sparkly feather. shimmering, iridescent, like it could hum if you got close enough. it wasn’t just a tool; it was him. his power. and now it clattered against his marble table like it wasn’t worth shit.

he groaned, deep and low, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up like that would fix anything. “fuck’s sake,” he muttered, voice heavy like a bassline that shook your chest. “who the hell’s supposed to help me? i’m the god of this shit. who can i even turn to?”

you almost tripped over the sharp corner of an s etched onto his scroll. the lyrics sprawled out beneath your boots, some half-written, some already glowing like they’d been sung into existence. your little red boots—thank god for those, you weren’t about to ruin your feet for a god’s hissy fit—crunched against the shimmering ink, leaving tiny sparkles in your wake. your wings fluttered behind you, catching the light like shattered glass, but you kept your head down, pushing on. he didn’t need to know you were here.

but then you heard it: the hitch in his voice, that broken sigh that made you stop dead in your tracks. you glanced up, your aura glowing faint blue, like the soft hum of a melody in a quiet room. his eyes were still closed, lashes stupidly long for someone so divine. his face, though—sharp jaw, lips pressed into a thin line like he was biting back every curse he wanted to throw at the universe. your chest tightened.

“oi!” you shouted, your voice barely carrying over the expanse of the table. no response. figures. you huffed, stomping on the o of “hope” like it owed you rent. “oi! big guy! you gonna sit there and sulk, or are you gonna pick that fancy-ass pen up and get back to work?”

his eyes snapped open, golden irises swirling like they held every song ever written. for a second, he looked confused, head tilting like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. fair enough, you thought, wings giving a little buzz. it wasn’t every day a music fairy decided to trespass on godly property.

“what the…?” his voice rumbled, like thunder tuning itself into a melody. he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at you. “you’re... tiny.”

you crossed your arms, boots planted firmly on the glowing e under your feet. “and you’re a fucking drama queen. what’s your point?”

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t know how. “who the hell are you?”

“musa,” you said, wings fluttering behind you. “fairy of music. and you, mr. god-of-all-sounds, look like you’re about to throw a tantrum ‘cause your pen won’t do the work for you.”

he blinked, then sat back again, rubbing his temple. “i don’t need a fairy.”

“clearly, you do.” you pointed at the lyrics, your sparkles spreading like wildfire with every step you took. “this shit? half-assed. what’s got you so pressed you can’t even finish your own damn song?”

“and you think you can help me?” he scoffs, his golden eyebrows lifting under his perfect blonde hair. you gasp, loud and dramatic, arms stretching out like you’re about to deliver some life-changing monologue. instead, you just sulk, feet stomping on his paper with tiny smacks, your boots crunching the shimmering ink. “don’t be a dick!” you huff, fists clenched as you glare up at him, wings flickering behind you.

he leans back in his throne, clearly amused, that godly smirk pulling at his lips. “oh, i’m the dick? you’re the one stomping on my lyrics like they’re trash.”

“they are trash,” you snap, spinning on your heel to fly toward his pen. the damn thing is practically glowing with untapped power, bigger than your whole body. you hook your tiny arms around it, wings buzzing like crazy, trying to lift it. nothing. the pen doesn’t even budge. “ugh, come on,” you groan, digging your heels into the paper for leverage. still nothing.

his laugh fills the air, the vibration of his voice making your wings shake. “you’re gonna hurt yourself, pixie. maybe stick to critiquing from the sidelines.”

“shut up,” you snap, giving him the nastiest side-eye you can muster. he smirks down at you, all smug and insufferable, like he already knows he’s won.

but then you close your eyes. you pull every ounce of energy you’ve got, feeling your aura pulse, faint blue and purple light spilling over the pen. it moves. barely—like, not even a full inch—but it fucking moves.

his smirk drops instantly, replaced by a sharp inhale. his eyes narrow, gold swirling serious, or even worried. “wait. you—” he doesn’t finish, watching like a hawk as you strain, wings fluttering so fast they’re almost a blur. but the pen won’t go further. you let out a shaky breath, hands dropping from the cool obsidian.

he exhales too, shoulders slumping. “thank fuck,” he mutters under his breath, glancing at the pen like it betrayed him for even considering you.

you shoot him a glare, crossing your arms. “what’s the matter, god-boy? scared a little fairy might show you up?”

he snorts, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees. “hardly. but you still haven’t explained how you plan to help me, pixie.”

“for the last time, it’s fairy!” with a frustrated huff, you fly straight up until you’re level with his face. his nose twitches the second your sparkles hit him, and before you can even deliver some sharp retort, he sneezes.

“ACHOO!”

the force of it makes you tumble mid-air, wings flapping wildly to steady yourself. “seriously?!” you yell, zipping back to his eye level.

he blinks at you, nose crinkled. “what the—why are you so sparkly? it’s like breathing glitter.” he rubs his nose, voice muffled. “couldn’t you warn me or something?”

“maybe next time don’t breathe through your nose when a fairy is trying to help you, genius.” you roll your eyes, but before he can argue, you press a hand to his forehead. the touch makes your body vibrate until you fade, and suddenly, a beam of light shoots from your palm into his pineal gland.

“what the fuck—” he freezes as the light connects, his body rigid, eyes wide.

“relax,” you mutter, your voice now echoing inside his mind. “just making a little connection, no big deal.”

“no big—get out of my head,” he growls, the words coming out half-stuttered as he smacks his hand on his temple.

“can’t help you if I’m not in here, dumbass,” you snap, floating deeper into his consciousness. the light around you pulses, shifting into a kaleidoscope of melodies and half-formed ideas. it’s chaotic, but there’s brilliance buried in the mess. “wow,” you mutter. “your brain’s a disaster.”

“gee, thanks,” he grits out, rubbing his temples. “and why the hell are you shaking my head?”

“because this part sucks.” you jab at a sour note in the melody, the whole space vibrating as you try to shift it into something better. his head jerks like he’s been hit, hands gripping his throne as he steadies himself.

“stop doing that!” he barks, glaring at the empty space in front of him.

“then stop writing garbage,” you fire back. but as you dig deeper, tweaking and smoothing out the rough edges of his thoughts, something starts to click.

his fingers twitch, reaching for the pen again. this time, it flows. lyrics spill from the tip, glowing with every stroke. your light pulses in time with his writing, the melody building, making him close his eyes and even languidly let his head follow the melody with lessen shakes.

by the time you pull your hand away, the song is complete. he sits back, staring at the paper, chest rising and falling like he just ran a cross-kingdom race.

“holy shit,” he mutters, golden eyes flicking to you. “you actually… helped.”

you smirk, brushing imaginary dust off your boots. “told you so.”

you watch him from the edge of his ridiculous throne, eyes narrowing as you spot the heavy energy clinging to his shoulders. two globes of black aura hover there, fuzzing and sparking like they’re actively pissed off that you’re even in the room. “no wonder you’re all hunched over,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “music’s not supposed to make you look like you’re carrying the world’s worst hangover.”

he tilts his head at you, golden eyes narrowing, lips quirking into this half-smirk. “easy for you to say. you’re tiny. flying around like a bug with no problems.”

your wings snap open indignantly, your hands flying to your hips. “excuse me? are you mocking my size?”

“mocking?” he echoes. he crosses his arms dramatically, shoulders hunching as he shakes them to mimic your movements. “oh no, look at me, i’m a tiny little fairy, fluttering around, telling gods how to do their job!”

“ha! real original,” you scoff, stomping over to the middle of the papers and plopping yourself down. the glowing ink beneath you sparkles faintly as you lean back on your hands, wings flicking. “if I were you, i’d focus more on fixing those depressing-ass vibes on your shoulders than making fun of me.”

he leans forward now, his stupidly perfect face breaking into a smile. “you’re so small,” he muses, holding his hand out like he’s measuring you against his fingers. “look, you’re barely the size of my thumb.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, already catching the glint in his eyes.

too late. his hand moves faster than your wings, scooping you up like you’re some kind of doll. “put me down!” you yell, thrashing against his fingers. his grip is annoyingly gentle, like he’s toying with you.

“what are you gonna do?” he teases, bringing you closer to his face, eyes gleaming. “punch me? you’d break your hand.”

you don’t think, you just bite. your teeth sink into the side of his palm, and he bursts into laughter, the sound shaking his chest. “that tickles!” he laughs, pulling his hand away and shaking it gently like you actually did any damage. “are you always this rude to gods?”

“maybe!” you say, wings buzzing angrily. “you deserved it.”

he quirks an eyebrow, still grinning. “you’re lucky I’m nice. I’ve got more powers than just writing lyrics, you know.”

“like what?” you challenge, arms crossed as you hover in the air.

his smirk deepens. he snaps his fingers, and in a blink, you’re no longer floating midair. you’re human-sized, sitting right on the edge of his desk, as you swing your legs. your wings twitch behind you, still shimmering under the golden light of his realm, but the sudden weight of your body makes you gasp.

“what the fuck?” you sputter, looking down at yourself. your tiny red boots now fit your feet perfectly, and your skirt—shit, it’s so short now that your pussy is almost on his face. you clamp your legs shut instinctively, cheeks burning as you notice his eyes briefly flicker there before darting away.

“see?” he leans back in his throne, folding his arms behind his head. “now I can actually see you properly without all the sparkles.”

“oh, how generous,” you deadpan, tugging at your skirt. your top doesn’t help much either; it’s cropped just high enough to show the underside of your boobs, and his gaze catches there for a second too long. “did you have to make my clothes stay this small? perv!”

his grin widens, unabashed. “not my fault you dressed like that, fairy. besides, you should be thanking me. now you can really help me without me worrying about sneezing you into oblivion.”

“oh, please.” you roll your eyes, crossing one leg over the other, the movement causing your skirt to ride up even higher. “this is just an excuse to stop me from calling you out for being a stressed-out mess.”

his eyes linger on your face now, taking in the pout that’s settled there. “still, I’ll admit you look… different like this.”

“different how?”

“you’re…” he hesitates, tapping his chin. “less annoying when I’m not worried about stepping on you.”

you flick one of your boots at him, the sole clacking against the throne. “and you’re just as annoying no matter the size difference.”

he laughs again, this time softer, his eyes trailing over you as you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to be sneaky about it. his golden hair moves faintly, like the gravity in this room doesn’t quite work the way it should. his clothes are black, gauzy enough to show the hints of muscle underneath, way buffer than any of the little elves from your village. his fingers tap a melody on the arm of his throne, a quiet rhythm that seems effortless.

do the big guys do it better?

the thought comes unbidden, making your head tilt slightly as you wonder.

like, are they… bigger everywhere?

his fingers stop mid-tap, and he raises an eyebrow. he straightens in his seat, narrowing his eyes. “you know I can hear you, right?”

your eyes widen, your wings stiffening.

“huh?! no, you can’t!”

he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound sharp and mocking. “oh, I definitely can. clear as day.”

you feel the color drain from your face. before you can even try to stop it, it’s like a floodgate bursts open, and every single intrusive thought you’ve been trying to suppress spills out.

his hands are so big… i bet they’d feel insane running down my tits.

oh my gods, imagine those fingers. fuck, they’d probably ruin me.

i wonder what his tongue tastes like. would it feel hot? does he even��

no, no, stop it, but like… what if he just pinned me down on that table and—

holy shit, i want him to eat me out.

like, bad.

you slap both hands over your mouth, but it doesn’t stop the thoughts. in fact, it’s like your brain takes the panic as a challenge and just doubles down.

that stupid smirk. i’d kill to bite that lip.

i bet he moans. like, right in your ear. shit, he’d—

“wow...” he interrupts, his voice dry. his head tilts slightly as his golden eyes bore into youe. “you’re… a lot. i don’t even know where to start unpacking all of that.”

you yank your hands away from your mouth, pointing at him accusingly. “you’re lying! there’s no way you can hear—”

“what were you expecting? i’m a god after all,” he says, his tone so smug it practically drips off his words. his golden eyes twinkle with fun, and he leans back in his throne, arms casually draped like he has all the time in the world to gloat.

you glare at him, wings twitching behind you as your indignation bubbles over. “oh, yeah, sure, big scary god who writes music and apparently spies on everyone’s thoughts and turns fairies into—”

his laughter cuts you off, rich enough to make you shiver. “if you keep talking, you’re going to spend your whole life here,” he says, grinning as your words falter.

your mouth opens and closes a few times, but nothing coherent comes out. instead, you huff and turn your head away, arms crossing as you sulk. “whatever. it’s not like i wanted to be here in the first place.”

he doesn’t miss the flush creeping up your neck, though. “do you know what else i can do?” he asks, his voice dropping just enough to make the air around you feel heavier.

you blink, still facing away, trying to ignore the way his tone slides over your skin like silk. “what…?” you mumble, sneaking a glance back at him.

he straightens in his seat, clearing his throat with a soft “ah-ah~.” the sound is nothing but a casual warm-up, but the second it leaves his lips, the vibrations seem to travel directly to your pussy, buzzing against your clit making you jump, gasping.

“h-haah…!” the sound escapes you involuntarily, and you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with shock. your thighs press together instinctively, one hand darting to your lap to cover yourself as your skirt shifts dangerously high, leaving you feeling far too exposed.

his eyes sharpen, a grin tugging at his lips as he watches you squirm. “something wrong, fairy?” he asks innocently, though his gaze is anything but.

you shake your head quickly, refusing to meet his eyes as your legs shift restlessly. the vibrations haven’t stopped; in fact, every hum he makes, everytime he talks, seems to resonate deeper, sending little shoves of pleasure that make it impossible to sit still.

“hmm~,” he hums again, dragging the sound out, and you feel the ripple of it like a physical touch.

“nghh—!” you bite your lip, a sharp gasp escaping before you can catch it. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, and you grip the edge of the desk with one hand, the other still futilely trying to shield yourself.

“oh?” he says, tilting his head as his smirk broadens. “is that all it takes to get you worked up?”

“s-shut up!” you snap, though your voice comes out breathy and weak. your thighs part just a fraction, almost without your permission, and the vibrations seem to grow stronger in response, buzzing relentlessly against your clit. “stop—ahh—stop doing that!”

“but why?” he leans forward. “you seem to be enjoying it.”

“i—mmh…!” your hips roll forward unconsciously, your wings tremble behind you, your grip on the desk tightening as your body betrays you further, your legs parting even more in front of him.

“tsk, tsk,” he murmurs mockery. “such a shameless little fairy. look at you, moaning like that. do you even realize what you’re doing right now?”

your cheeks burn, and you shake your head, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes as his voice seems to play with your clit with more strenght “ahh—s-stop…!”

but he doesn’t stop. instead, he leans back again, one hand lazily tracing patterns on the armrest of his throne as he hums another note, watching with fascination as your body reacts helplessly.

the vibrations feel relentless now, your clit throbbing with every sound he makes. your legs spread wider, your hand no longer able to fully cover yourself, and your hips rock forward in a rhythm you can’t control.

“nnngh-fuck!—a-ah…!” you moan, head tilting back as your grip on the desk tightens.

“tell me, fairy—how much more can you take?”

your arms tremble, not able to hold your weight. you gasp, your body betraying you, and before you realize it, you’re slowly sinking back onto his desk, the cool surface pressing against your wings. your back arches instinctively, hips canting forward as if begging for more, your legs spreading wider until you’re completely uncovered. the realization burns you with embarrassment, but your body refuses to obey your mind’s frantic protests.

you can’t bring yourself to look at him, but you feel his gaze, heavy, raking over every inch of you. “oh,” he hums, “even your cum sparkles. everything about you shines, doesn’t it?”

a pitiful whimper escapes your lips as you try to close your legs, mortified at how vulnerable you are. but his hands are quick and strong, smoothing over the delicate skin of your inner thighs with a touch that makes you shiver. he presses gently, coaxing your legs apart again as he clicks his tongue.

“don’t hide from me now~” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of your thighs as if to emphasize his point. “not when you’re this pretty, dripping like that for me.”

“p-please…” your voice is a soft whine, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. the words die in your throat as his gaze drops lower.

“ah... look at this..” he says, almost to himself, as his eyes trail over the mess between your thighs, glistening and utterly shameless. his fingers ghost along your cunt. “you’re already soaking through my papers, little fairy. how do you expect me to concentrate on anything else when you’re like this?”

your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping as you squirm beneath his touch. “i—I can’t…” you manage, though even you’re not sure what you’re trying to say.

“you can’t what?” he asks as his fingers press just a little firmer, enough to make you gasp. “speak up, sweetheart. i want to hear you.”

“i can’t… ahh—s-stop—!” the words spill out in a breathy rush, your hips roll toward his hand betrays your real feelings.

“stop?” he echoes, tilting his head as his smirk grows. “but you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

you whimper again, heat flooding your cheeks as your body arches helplessly under his gaze. his hands shift, one sliding down to trace the edge of your slick folds, and the lightest touch has your legs twitching.

“you’re so soft, so wet. i bet you taste just as sweet as you look.”

“ah-ah!” your breath catches, and your hips jerk involuntarily as he leans down, his golden hair brushing your thighs.

he pauses, his lips ghosting over your skin as his breath fans against you. “tell me,” he says, “do you want me to taste you? or should i keep teasing until you can’t even think straight anymore?”

“p-please,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling and high-pitched. your hands clutch at the edge of the table, knuckles white as you feel yourself twisting further. “please—don’t tease…”

he hums, his lips press against you, leaving a wet mouth-opened kiss, the first swipe of his tongue is slow, too slow, collecting all of your juices insidethe little bowl formed inside his tongue.

your head tilts back, a broken moan spilling from your lips as your thighs tremble. his hands keep you in place, thumbs pressing gently against your skin, holding you open for him.

“you taste even better than i imagined.” he murmurs against you, his tongue diving back in to lap up every bit of you.

your back arches again, your wings fluttering uselessly against the desk as the pleasure builds, white-hot and enormous. “ahh—p-please… i can’t—!”

“yes, you can,” he whispers, his voice sending another vibration under the little hood of your clitoris as his lips and tongue work tirelessly. “you’re doing so well, little fairy. let me have all of you.”

your body tightens, every nerve aflame, your legs shake, your hands scrambling for purchase as you feel the coil deep in your belly snap, the pleasure tearing over you, leaving you crying out his name, your body trembling in his hold.

his tongue and lips coaxing you through every aftershock, kissing your cunt messily, until you’re left out of breath and boneless on his desk, weary. his golden eyes meet yours as he finally pulls back, his lips glistening as he sneers.

when his lips part again, and the first syllable of his voice goes straight to your puffy clit. you cry out, the overstimulation dragging you further into desperation.

“ahh—please, stop!” you manage, your voice cracking.

“stop?” he drawls, his voice honey-smooth and deadly, the vibrations coursing straight to your clit again, making your body arch. “but you’re so sensitive, little fairy. wouldn’t it be cruel to stop now?”

your hands scramble to the hem of your skirt, twisting the fabric in your fists as your head tilts back, wings fluttering erratically. “nngh—s-so much—ahh…!” the sounds tumbling from you are broken, whiny, your chest heaving.

and then, as if sensing your limit, he stops. not just the words, but the power behind them—the vibrations cut off like a switch, leaving you gasping for air, your body twitching in the sudden silence.

“better?” he rises from his throne with an unhurried grace, and your breath catches as his presence looms over you.

he’s massive. not just his height, though he towers over you, but the sheer weight of his aura, his power pressing down on you like gravity itself. his hair gleams in the low light, his black, nearly sheer garments clinging to his broad shoulders and lean frame. his muscles shift, and your eyes flicker down to his hands, strong as they rest on either side of the desk, caging you in.

“what are you thinking about, hm?” he asks, almost coaxing, though his smirk tells you he already knows the answer.

your fingers fidget with the hem of your skirt, tugging at it as if it could somehow shield you from his gaze. but his eyes are relentless, sharp and knowing, and you feel the heat crawling up your neck as his question hangs in the air.

“n-nothing,” you stammer, though the word rings hollow even to your own ears.

his smile widens. “nothing, is it?” he murmurs. “then why do you look like you’re about to combust just from me standing here?”

your cheeks burn hotter, and you force yourself to look away, but it’s no use. his hand lifts, brushing your chin with the barest touch, guiding your gaze back to his.

“let me guess,” he says, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosts over your skin. “you’re curious, aren’t you?”

you blink up at him, heart pounding, unsure how to answer.

“curious about what’s been under your nose this whole time,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, richer. his hand trails downward, stopping at the waistband of his sheer pants. “you didn’t notice, did you? too distracted by everything else.”

your breath catches as he pulls the fabric down, just enough to free himself, and your eyes widen as the truth hits you. it had been there the whole time, half-hidden in his lap, slightly concealed by the translucent material. but now, with nothing obscuring it, you can’t look away.

he’s huge, his cock thick, long and flushed, curving upward with an intimidating weight that makes your thighs clench instinctively. veins trail along the length, pulsing faintly, and the sheer size of him makes your head spin.

“is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

you swallow hard, unable to speak, your hands clutching at the desk as your wings flutter weakly behind you.

“well?” he presses, leaning closer until his golden hair brushes your cheek. “go on, little fairy. say it.”

your voice trembles as you finally manage to whisper, “y-you’re… so big…”

he chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body in a way that makes your thighs squeeze together again. “and you’re so small,” he replies mockingly, though there’s an undeniable thirst in his eyes now.

he shifts closer, his hand reaching for you, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “are you afraid?”

you shake your head quickly, though your heart is racing, your body trembling as you lean back against the desk. “n-no…” you whisper.

“good.” he murmurs, his smile softening just slightly as his hand moves higher, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just below your skirt.

woozi hears it—feels it—the relentless pulse of your arousal like a drumbeat in his head. It’s maddening.

his cock twitches, an almost painful throb that draws a frustrated sigh from his lips. he slides his thumb over his slit, smearing the beads of precum that gather there. It’s meant to offer some relief, but it only makes the ache sharper, the sight of you sprawled on his desk only fanning the flames.

and then he feels it—a gentle spark, tiny but potent, that dances across his wrist. his gaze snaps down, and there you are, your hand hardly covering a fraction of his skin, glowing faintly with your unique magic. the pulse of it travels through him like a ripple, and for a moment, he stills, captivated by the delicate power in your touch.

“god woozi,” you murmur, he tilts his head, watching you as your fingers curl slightly against his wrist.

“yes?”

you swallow, your cheeks flushing as you meet his gaze. “please, let me… help you.”

his brows lift, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his hand shifts, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your fingers. “help me?” he repeats. “and what exactly do you think you can do for me?”

your eyes flicker down, catching the way his thumb strokes himself again, and you bite your lip. the sight makes your thighs clench, and you force yourself to look back up at him.

“you’re suffering too, aren’t you?” you say softly, your voice gaining a hint of confidence as you lean closer. “i can feel it.”

his smirk falters, but he doesn’t respond, his silence almost daring you to continue.

you take a shaky breath, your hand sliding up his wrist, leaving a faint trail of glowing sparks in its wake. “you’ve done so much for me already,” you say. “let me return the favor, god woozi.”

“you’re awfully bold for someone whos used to be so small,” he murmurs. “but boldness doesn’t always mean you’re ready for the consequences.”

“then show me,” you challenge softly, your fingers brushing against his palm, his skin impossibly warm under your touch.

a chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head, his golden hair catching the light. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, do you?” he says, though there’s no malice in his tone—just a quiet, almost entertained resignation.

before you can respond, his free hand moves, sliding beneath your chin to tilt your face up to his. “if you’re going to offer yourself to a god,” he says, “you’d better be ready to handle what comes with it.”

you nod, swallowing hard. “i am,” you whisper, the weight of your own voice surprising you.

his smirk returns, and he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. “then let’s see how much you can take, little fairy.”

before you can process his words, he shifts, his cock pressing against your thigh, the heat of him searing even through the thin barrier of your skin. your breath hitches, your wings fluttering erratically as his hand slides down, guiding himself between your legs.

the first press is slow, and you gasp, your fingers clutching at his wrist as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him. “oh—god…!” the sound spills from your lips, high and breathless, and you feel him watching you.

“taking me so well.”

your cheeks burn, but the fire pooling in your belly only grows as he moves, his hips rolling, his tip kissing your cervix in insistent careful rubs. your hands grasp at his forearms, your shiny nails digging in as you whimper, your wings trembling against the desk.

“does it feel good, pretty fairy?” he asks. “tell me.”

“y-yes—ahh, yes god woozi!” you cry, your voice breaking as he thrusts deeper.

his smirk widens, and he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “then take it,” he growls softly. “all of it. every inch.”

your wings flutter wildly, your cries filling the room as he takes you higher and higher, his name spilling from your lips, echoing like a beautiful song note.

his hands trace the curve of your waist, teasing the sensitive skin there before they slide upward, brushing just under the hem of your top. his fingers ghost over your underboobs, the touch featherlight, then, with a slow motion, he pushes your top higher, revealing more of your flushe body.

when your breasts spill free, he watches, entranced, as they bounce with each sharp thrust he delivers. his cock moves each slide drenched in the testimony of your past orgasm. the wet, slick sounds fill the air between your whimpering cries, blending with his low groans.

“you’re a mess,” he says, his thumbs come up to circle your nipples, brushing them with a maddeningly soft touch before pinching, tugging just enough to draw a strangled moan from your throat.

your back arches off the desk,your body trembling under his hands. “ahh—fuck, woozi—!” you cry, your voice breaking on the edges.

he smirks, his eyes half-lidded, drinking in the sight of you. every twitch of your body, every gasp and whine, seems to spur him on. his head tilts slightly, his blonde hair falling into his face as he leans closer, his lips parting just slightly. And then he blows.

a soft, glowing aura escapes his lips as he exhales, a warm, golden light that drifts down, guided by some unseen magic. it swirls in lazy circles, a hypnotic dance as it floats lower and lower, until it reaches the swollen, sensitive bud at the apex of your thighs.

the moment it touches you, you swear the world tilts. the aura massages your clit in circles, the warmth of it spreading through you like liquid fire. your breath hitches, your eyes rolling back as a fresh orgasm crashes over you, your thighs trembling.

“oh—oh my god—ahh!” you cry, your voice pitching higher, your hands clawing at the desk for some kind of anchor, but it’s no use. you’re lost, spiraling further into the haze as his magic works over you.

his thumbs continue their torment on your nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds, your chest heaves as your head lolls back, your lips parted in a silent scream as the pleasure mounts, agonizing and perfect all at once.

“that’s it,” he growls softly, his eyes closing briefly as he listens to the melody of your cries, each note sinking into him like a drug. “sing for me, little fairy. let me hear everything.”

your voice breaks as you sob his name, your body convulsing under the force of your orgasm. the magic at your clit seems to pulse in time with your release, dragging the pleasure out, making it endless.

“fuck, you’re beautiful. beautiful my pretty fairy...”

his hips stutter as the tight heat of you squeezes around him, pulling him closer to his own edge. his hands never leave you, his touch grounding you as you fall apart.

his hands squeeze your breasts firmly, jolting you back from the fog of pleasure you’re lost in. your eyes flutter open weakly, your breath hitching as the sight of him comes into focus. his head is tipped back slightly, blonde hair sticking to his damp forehead, and the throaty sounds he makes vibrate through the room. it’s deeper than before, louder, and you can feel the his release as the pulse of it fills you.

the space around you seems to shift, the room vibrating with his climax as a warn, a golden glow radiates from his body. the black auras that clung to his shoulders earlier unravel in an explosion of furious, dissonant notes, fading into silence as woozi finally lets himself go. his hips press into you one last time, burying himself so deep you swear you feel every inch, and then you feel it—the hot, heavy rush of his cum spreading inside you.

his forehead drops forward to rest near yours. “you... you’ve ruined me, little fairy.”

you feel it too—the way his cum fills you, a glowing sensation blooming in your belly. you glance down weakly, and your eyes widen at the faint shimmer under your skin, like your body is glowing with the power of him.

“you’re... shining,” you whisper.

his chest rises and falls against yours, his hands still cradling your body like he’s afraid to let go. he lifts his head to meet your gaze. “so are you,” he says quietly, his voice tender. “you’re radiant.”

your lips part, but no words come out. he leans down, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss. this kiss feels like gratitude, like reverence, like something divine, his tongue for sure tastes different by the way.

when he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, taking in every detail. “you’ve done more for me than you realize,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “i’ve carried that weight for so long... those damn shadows. but you—” he pauses, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “you’ve made them disappear.”

you blink up at him, your heart pounding as his words sink in. “i didn’t... i mean, i wasn’t trying to—”

he cuts you off with a small laugh, leaning back slightly as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. “you didn’t even know you could, did you?” he teases, his smirk returning. “typical. little fairy, barging in, turning my world upside down without a clue.”

you pout, your cheeks heating up as you cross your arms weakly over your chest. “you’re welcome, by the way,” you mumble.

his laughter deepens. “oh, i owe you more thanks than i can ever give,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you again. “but i think we’re past formalities, don’t you?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “yeah, well, i guess saving a god’s sanity makes us even or something.”

his smirk widens, and he leans down to press another kiss to your lips, softer this time. “even?” he murmurs against your mouth. “not even close, little fairy. you’ve given me clarity, peace... and, frankly, the best fucking inspiration i’ve had in centuries.”

you can’t help but giggle at that, the sound light and breathless. “glad i could help.”

he grins, his eyes glinting. “you’ve done more than help. you’ve changed everything.” he leans back, his hands brushing over your thighs as he straightens, his expression growing thoughtful. “now,” he says, his voice turning playful again, “how do you feel about sticking around? i think i could use a muse like you.”

you blink, taken aback by his words, but before you can respond, he adds, “oh, and i promise—no more turning you human-sized without warning. unless, of course,” his smirk returns, too devilish for a god, “you’re into that.”

you smack his chest weakly, your laugh echoing through the room in funny notes.

inspired by this request/drabble

[cheyisagirlkisser]

.・College Ellie Headcannons゜・

Note: This is more loser Ellie-centric, I wanna maybe do a part two with just reader and her. Some sexual content and mentions of getting zooted below so 18+ warning!

•Art major, but she’s not the typical hot artsy lesbian you dream of her to be. More like rolls a fat blunt and sketches in her journal, it’ll either turn out to be a masterpiece or look like a crackhead had a go with her paper.

•Speaking of art major, when she’s horny and frustrated because she refuses to hook-up…she draws the lewdest art known to woman-kind. Those are her real masterpieces, but she can’t exactly turn them in for credit in her art class, can she? Fuck, the things that woman can make, though. Lowkey uses her exes naked bodies as inspiration though, maybe kind of weird but who’s gonna stop her?

•Doesn’t eat the food on campus half the time. She is embarrassingly addicted to Tai Pei containers and the occasional microwavable egg-roll. “That shit’s nasty, Ellie! Goddamn, just eat the Tacos 4 Life we have on campus.” Her friends will all tell her, but no. It’s like a guilty pleasure. Maybe it’s cause she grew up lower class and is used to TV dinners, has a special trauma bond to food that should be banned and probably is outside of America.

•Wardrobe consists of band tees, honorable mentions to Gorillaz and Falling in Reverse.

•Is actually an insanely talented writer. After reading her journals I feel like nobody talks about how emotional her entries are and she keeps a journal of her own in college for sure, not only for sketching and organizing art but also to write all her feelings out.

“Fuck me, this is my last year being gay.” -After her and Cat’s break-up, probably.

•Hates coffee. Definitely game-cannon, but this is important to the college setting. It’s the classic Monster or nothing, and she will absolutely judge you for drinking coffee. She calls it “the devil’s dirt.” So dramatic.

•Used to watch bad Hallmark movies because of Dina, now watches them alone because she misses Dina. There’s nothing like crying your eyes out to Christmas Under Wraps!

•Has a collection of rubber ducks on her shelf. Doesn’t use her very small space for normal things like her wallet or books, no. It’s rubber fucking ducks.

•Also has a slipper collection in her tiny closet, from Pikachu all the way to dinosaur feet.

•Has the “two-seater” t-shirt (iykyk) but refuses to wear it in public because she’s a pussy

•Favorite fruit is grapes. I just know my girl loves grapes when she can get her hands on them steer clear bc she will NOT share. Favorite candy is gummy worms!

•Actually wears rain boots when it’s wet outside or snowing

•Likes wired earbuds over airpods, listens to Pearl Jam when she misses living with Joel

•Is oddly good at making those little paper stars and has a huge grocery bag of then in all different patterns and colors

•When she starts dating you she shows you her dinosaur cookie-cutter collection because you're really good at baking. (Also bc she wants to see you in a frilly cute apron!)

•Is a slut for hugs. Kisses are cool, sex is great but agghhh Ellie just loves wrapping her arms around you and sometimes when you two are in her dorm she'll just hug you for what feels like hours on end, she calls it her 'weekly therapy.'

•Loves high sex because when she's sober she hates feeling like she's awkward or all up in her head. She also has a tendency to invite you over for sex after smoking.

•Has a septum piercing. Maybe this one is self-indulgent because I would go ballistic over seeing actual Ellie with one, but I say that college Ellie got hers pierced at 16 and didn't cry over the pain but wanted to literally jump off of a bridge the entire healing process it was so bad.

•Sometimes when you kiss her, her septum will slide over and look uneven and she feels fucking NIGERIA FALLS in her boxers when you fix it for her. Also for those of you who are sluts for glasses, you can fix her glasses too and it'll make her just as weak.

[parkersbliss]

A Domestic Life | S. Riley

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x female reader

warnings: none just some fluff bc I don’t see enough for him :(( maybe OOC

synopsis: just some fluffy headcannons about the infamous ghost and how he treats relationships

a/n: there is not enough tooth rotting fluff for this guy and I’m gonna fix that starting now

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for ghost!

—

sleeps like a log. the guy sleeps on his back, pointed at the sleeping and when he’s out he’s OUTTTT that boy does not sleep on the field so in an actual bed? he’s comatose. of course if you have a nightmare you can wake him up anytime. he’ll be a little confused at first but he’s got the spirit

enjoys cuddling but not in his sleep. he overheats so easily bc of how big he is so you guys keep your space. he is happy to hold you before bed though while watching a movie or scrolling on tiktok

he’s a DRY texter oh my god. it’s like your biggest pet peeve. “how’s your day” “fine” “made any progress?” “no.” you’re working on improving his skills but he’s just like that. you asked a question, he answers. besides he doesn’t frequently have time to text you long detailed replies

obviously ghost loves his mask, and it makes sense for him to conceal his identity but he doesn’t when he’s back with you. he likes to keep his identities separate. ghost and the mask for the field, regular simon at home. it’s not like anyone would know they were the same guy, except you of course.

on the off chance he’s home for halloween, he doesn’t use his mask as a costume (just in case anyone could connect the dots) but does keep the skeleton theme

his favorite holiday is christmas and he always makes sure he can have it off

he LOVES to cook. he doesn’t eat good when deployed so he loves coming home and cooking himself up exactly what he wanted. don’t get me wrong, he loves if you cook too but there’s something about not being able to control what you eat and then having full control and making homemade pasta for him

wears beanies all the time in winter. the dudes got a buzz cut, standard, so his heads cold. he loves when you wear a matching one with him

wakes up at the ass crack of dawn bc his body is just used to it after so many years

when he retires, he plans on having a small farm for even fresher homemade ingredients like eggs, milk etc. and he’ll wake up early to do the farm chores

again with the shitty food thing, he only likes gas station coffee. he’s so used to a crappy cup of joe that he can’t do the fancy shit. then again, he’s more of a tea guy anyway

loves his alone time but he likes you there, if that makes sense? like he loves reading a novel and not talking but just having you also read in the same room

likes just sitting on the couch together and watching a movie

It took him a while to adjust to physical touch after it being 1.) mostly abuse or 2.) enemies after him but he is not completely against it. he knows it’s important in relationships so he tries his best and eventually learns to love it

a sucker for slow dancing in the living room. bonus points if it’s with the christmas tree lights and music. he loves swaying around and the occasional stepping on feet and your giggles

his most prized possession besides the guns and you is a le creuset tea pot you gifted him for christmas. it’s bright blue with a gold handle and perfect.

he has a tea collection on display and is always trying new flavors from around the world. his green tea is imported from japan ONLY. always makes two cups for himself and you

loves to do any picnic dates or apple picking or farm style dates. the man loves food as FRESH as possible.

his bucket lists consists of food places around the world he wants to try and go with you.

including fugu from japan. you are totally opposed because of the whole life or death thing associated with it, but simon’s used to risks and he’ll do his research ofc.

he’ll never admit but he wants to go to america just to try the fast food there. he knows it’s bad and the opposite of what he stands for but the chinese in britain is ASS and doesn’t canes, in n out and chick fil a look SO good?

bicep holding >>> hand holding

he needs routine. simon needs to wake up at the same time, make breakfast for you guys at the same time, have his quiet time on the porch. watch the morning news with you and the tea. always at the same times. he tries not to but he can’t help bringing some of his military life home

his crew knows he has a wife but that’s it. ghost keeps simon separate and you are married to simon.

plus he can never be too safe when it comes to his work. the only name you went by when he’s deployed is “my wife” or “mrs riley”

doesn’t even carry a photo of you bc he’s that paranoid

you guys actually get married within 18 months because it just makes life easier. as soon as simon knew he wanted to marry you, he did.

it’s just easier in the military bc of pay, benefits, deployment, etc. and ofc he loves you and was locking that down ASAP

sends you recipes when he’s deployed for you to make and rate

when he can’t sleep, which is often, he just lays next to you not touching and contemplated how it is after all the bad he’s done, how he got it so good.

and he makes sure you know how appreciative he is

[amourrs]

ellie who’s been slowly fixing up an old bike to keep on the straight and narrow, working on it piece by piece with she hands until it slowly comes to life. it’s been a form of therapy, turning a piece of shit back into something functional, something that works, and she almost feels like it’s sort of a metaphor for life- not that she would ever be caught saying something so stupid out loud lest joel quits being her sponsor then and there and laughs her out of america and his shop for good. you’ve been there as ellie works, your long term job at the shop keeping you busy around an equal amount as your contempt for ellie. it’s not like there’s anything specifically deeply wrong with her, but she never shuts the fuck up about sex. it’s so irritating that you consider taking a wrench and crushing into your skull to get away from her. do you really have to constantly hear about the fact she can’t get her dick wet? well— not dick, but the point still stands. you’re so sick of her shit, the awkward attempts she’s made at flirting with you being shut down instantly as you shutter your face and stalk past her without a second glance. you overhear the mutter of “shit, what did i do?” to joel as he laughs heartily, hand clapping ellie’s shoulder with a rueful grin. “i would give up with that one, if i were you. she nearly put abby in the hospital last spring.” ellie looks over at the muscular blonde joel points out incredulously, noting the way she passes you tools almost deferentially as the two of you work on the same bike. “well, shit.” after that, she steers clear of flirting with you, but the sex talk doesn’t stop. it’s a month later after a particularly irritating story about how she tried to pick up a girl who turned out to be married that you snap, waiting until joel’s out of the room before you slam your spanner down on the table and beckon ellie towards you. “you. this way. now.” she’s confused but follows you anyway, walking up the stairs and through the door you hold open for her before slamming it behind you and turning the key in the lock. “pants off.” ellie’s eyes widen. “whoa, hey, what?” she chuckles nervously. “pants off,” you repeat, eyebrow skating up your head. “what, are you stupid or something?” she stumbles over her words a little as she replies. “what exactly are we—” her hands splay out awkwardly. “well, i figure if we fuck, you can shut the fuck up about your fucking dry spell— which, by the way, nobody gives a fuck about.” the auburnette’s mouth curls into a little smirk as she pulls her belt off and starts tugging her jeans down her ankles, boxers along with them as she kicks them off her legs. “fine by me.” you roll your eyes at her. “good. still wish you were dead, by the way.” ellie hums a little in acknowledgment before your knuckles brush her clit and her eyes roll back in her head, fingers clutching around your wrist as she lets out a breathy moan and sinks her teeth into your shoulder to stifle the noise. well. this should be quick enough.

fully inspired by a midnight thought about the storyline in shameless where brad sponsors lip and he becomes a mechanic in his shop but with ellie so! if you see the similarity it’s intended…

[thefunkfactory]

The Orders

Wyatt and his boyfriend Tate were watching the 2020 election results on TV as they cuddled together on the couch. They both believed that the election would be a landslide for the Democrats but after they had dozed off they had heard a loud announcement from the news anchor waking them both up, “It’s official! Donald Trump will continue serving this country as President of the United States of America!”. A sense of dread came over the two, “How could this have happened?” Wyatt sorrowfully asked, Tate just sat there in silence and held Wyatt closer.

Over the next few months life stayed practically the same even though Trump was acting like a dictator, all news channels were banned minus FoxNews and other right wing stations, Trump forcibly created the 28th Amendment which repealed the 22nd Amendment making it so that term limits vanished, and he had somehow managed to make it so that one of his children would take the Presidency if he ever stepped down or died. One day as the boyfriends were making dinner together the TV, which was playing the news for some background noise, ran a segment that sent chills down their backs. “Trump just declared that homosexuality is now criminalized in the United States of America. All homosexuals must go to their nearest police station and turn themselves in, immediately”. Hearing this they knew that they had to flee the country as soon as they could. Running to the bedroom Wyatt began packing up a suitcase for both him and Tate. While his boyfriend was rushing to pack in the bedroom Tate heard a knock at the door, he looked through the peephole and saw police officers standing on the other side of the door. “wyatt! what do we do? there are police at our front door!” Tate whispered to Wyatt after he ran to the bedroom. “ummm uhhhh I dont know!” Wyatt said fearfully as he heard a louder and more aggressive knock at their door. The two boys decided to hide in their own apartment and wait until the police hopefully leave.

The knocking continued until eventually they heard an officer yell at the other police officers “Alright thats it!” Thinking this meant the coast was clear Tate got out from under the bed even though Wyatt begged him not to. “Babe it’s fine they are leaving, didn’t you hear them?” Tate said to calm down his worried boyfriend. Tate walked out of the bedroom and into the living room when suddenly the front door was kicked in, “OH SHIT” Tate yelled out. Tate tried to flee but he heard a voice from the front door yell “THERE’S ONE! GET HIM!”. Before Tate could take more than two steps, 3 police officers ran in and took him down to the ground. Two held down his arms flat on the ground and one officer who was especially buff held down Tates legs. Tate heard someone slowly stepping into the apartment. He watched as this big, masculine police officer, obviously the leader of this mission, stepped over Tate’s restrained body. “What do you wan-?” Tate was cut off as the officer began to monologue, “Know what I hate? I’ll tell you what I hate, I hate people who bring down this beautiful country we have. It’s a shame that you were able to be such a stain on this great nation for so long, but now that Trump has given the orders, you and your…friendsss” the officer made a disgusted face as he said that last part “Well you all won't be a problem anymore”. “FUCK YOU!” Tate proclaimed with fire in his eyes. “Hahah awwww it’s cute when they have this much fire in ‘em it makes it so much more fun to see it drainnnnnn out” The 3 other police officers all laughed in sync, the same monotone laugh. The officer standing over Tate looked annoyed “We’re still working out their old personalities, these ones were fixed early this morning as soon as we got the order. Whoever made them “better” didn’t do the procedure right so we had to wipe their minds and start fresh.” The officer rolled his eyes. Tate was puzzled and asked “What do you mean “fixed”?”. “Huhuhuh oh buddy you really don’t know do ya? Police and Military across the nation have been given these” The officer held up a baggie with a bunch of red pills that looked like M&M’s and shook it, “to get rid of the gayness plaguing this nation. Some of my officers gave them to your “friends” this morning but they came out…wrong” As he said that he placed his right palm down on one the officer’s head who was holding down Tate’s arm. “This dumbass and the idiot behind me used to be a gross married couple. Good thing my men got to them before they could indoctrinate some kid or something” Said the officer standing above Tate. “No…no what did you do to them?!” Tate cried, “Oh don’t worry my dumb little gay boy, you’ll see”

Wyatt, with his hands clasped around his mouth, watched as the officer above Tate pulled a little red pill out of the baggie he held up earlier. He squatted down and pulled apart Tate’s clenched mouth and forced him to swallow the red pill. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend began to seize on the floor as the 3 other officers continued to hold him down. Wyatt was forced to watch as his boyfriend’s hair became shorter, thinner, and lighter, his fluffy brown hair had just dissolved into the dirty blonde mop now on his head. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend’s face gained some softer features, a rounded nose, a soft round jaw, but his brow bone became more prominent and his lips grew thinner. His boyfriend stopped shaking and calmed down but was now making animalistic grunts every few seconds. It was obvious he was trying to resist whatever was going on in his head. The officer looked down at Tate and saw that no progress had been made past his head, “Tsk I hate having to do this, you should just give into the right side”. The officer untied his boot and took it off, he gave it a whiff and recoiled his head “Oooof huhuh you’re in for it now!” the officer swatted over Tate and placed the boot right over his nose and mouth. Wyatt heard his boyfriend’s animalistic grunts get louder as the boot approached but as soon as it covered his face the grunts died down, becoming sparser than they were before the boot was lowered. This is when the real changes happened, Tate’s arms began to bulk up and his already hairless armpits stayed that way but still being able to proudly pump out pungent B.O., his chest grew two soft pillows as his pecs exploded with muscle. Tate’s stomach stayed lean while gaining some muscle and his thighs began to get girthier and girthier. Tate began to grunt loudly as he tried to push off the mindless officers holding him down, the officer who had been in charge of all of this removed the shoe and mockingly said “Awww you were doing soooo good.” He grabbed another red pill and forced it down Tate’s throat.

Tate quieted down quickly as his body continued transforming. Tate felt his ass twitch and tingle when suddenly it ballooned up like a life raft and was now a nice soft cushion. His legs grew a nice layer of hair that spread to his newly minted ass cheeks. Lastly Tate’s feet began to expand, “Ooooo this is the best part!” the officer in charge proclaimed. Tate’s feet grew bigger and meatier, a soft wafting stink began to float off of them which quickly evolved into a rotten smell of pungent cheese. Wyatt watched as his sweet sensitive boyfriend was left a sweaty and smelly mess on the ground. The officer said to himself, “Time to clear out his block, gotta make sure we get all that homo stuff out”. The officer bent down and placed his hand into his own armpit and then proceeded to place his hand right under Tate’s car, “Yea…smell that manly stink. Thats what you smell like now. You are a stinky, straight jock; nothing more, nothing less.” Tate began to grunt even more animalistic now but it wasn’t him trying to escape…Tate was moaning… Tate was thrusting the air and flip flopping between moaning and grunting as the officer continued his speech about Tate’s new form. Tate kept going and going until a wet spot appeared in the sweatpants Tate was wearing.

He was gone, sweet, innocent Tate, the guy who would always go along with the love of his life, Wyatt, the guy who accepted everyone, the guy who was a proud gay guy, all of that was now just a damp stain in his sweatpants, right in the crotch region. The officers turned the TV station to an obscure channel no-one would flop to on their own, it was just a looping video of a hypnotic spiral. It taught important truths about how evil gay people are and how much better it is to be straight as an arrow, and now Tate’s mushy, brain-drained mind was being forced to watch it. The officers stayed in the apartment for an hour as Tate was indoctrinated into the Republican party, the entire time Wyatt kept hidden under the bed. Once the officers left, Wyatt emerged and saw Tate still staring at the spiral and drooling, the officers had left him to sit through the spiral even longer than he needed to. As drool dribbled down his chin, Wyatt couldn’t help but feel awful for the smelly himbo that used to be his boyfriend. He grabbed a tissue and went up to the brainless giant to wipe away the drool when suddenly Tate looked at his and said “What do you think YOU are doing GAY BOY?!” his breath reeked something awful and Wyatt tried to back away. “Nah come here bro!” Tate lifted his armpit and grabbed Wyatts head and forced him deep into his noxious B.O. factory…

To Be Continued…

[ciderjacks]

and actually like does anyone else notice how any other bigoted comment that gets called out is like, something mildly insensitive or close minded, but for a sexist comment to be called out it has to be some dude saying something like "I think all women should go back to being second class citizens also if i could I would murder every bitch i see. males are biologically superior, the only use a female has is being bred to make more men." and even then EVEN THEN its like "yeah this comment is pretty sexist...and worse is it also holds some pretty racist and transphobic implications!" like explain that to me rq. y'all never Layer shit when its any other form of bigotry, you understand that just being racist/homophobic/transphobic/whatever else is already bad on its own.

like im not saying other forms of bigotry are less serious, what im saying is that sexism is the only one you guys let get this bad before even acknowledging it! have the same standards with sexism that you'd have with anything else! if you wouldnt tolerate something if it was about any other marginalized group, why are you tolerating it when its about women??

maybe its because properly acknowledging sexism means having to realize how many things you like are bigoted...How many people you look up to are bigots.

it’s odd how with every other kind of bigotry, when a famous person is called out its usually over like. a few shitty tweets from 2014. But when it comes to misogyny/sexism it’s always like “yeah uh so he sex trafficked multiple underage women, killed his girlfriend, and raped his elderly mother. He’s been openly saying he hates women for years now and his whole platform is about hating women, but we sort of thought it was funny so we didn’t pay attention to it. Oops! He is still sort of funny though haha” And the guy still gets more sympathy than an otherwise harmless celeb who made a homophobic joke on Twitter at age 12.

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[directdogman]

Dialtown is the most USA-core game I've ever played. It's so fucking American that it's scary, and I've lived there my entire life! Like, this feels fundamentally tied with the game's themes and narrative, that's how extreme it is. And it's not even alienating OR nationalist?? It makes such genuine commentary? And then there's so much other shit to think about too; Dialtown has a very real identity outside this that anyone could love?

One: I am VERY impressed that you have done the USA and its people this well. I am actually astounded, bewildered, and chuffed. I've never felt so seen by a video game, culturally-speaking. I didn't even know there was a culture to see.

Two: WHY did you do that. Dialtown is like USA Culture Absurdified: The Visual Novel. What drove you to make a game this rich with American culture and ideas???

Hello!

It would've been odd for an outsider (non American) who enjoys reading up on history to make my setting nationalist or alienating. America is a country with a lot of serious issues. You can't really study how America is (and has been) internally run without facing glaring and obvious systematic issues. DT's setting is one of scarcity and most of the main characters you follow in DT are kinda just scraping by without much hope for true mobility/advancement. A lot of Americans (especially younger generations) would agree this sorta encapsulates the national mood of the country right now.

Of course, the systems that run a country don't define its citizens - many of the finest people I've ever known are American and are victims of the whims of those with power, not willing participants in this system. I could be wrong, but that's why I think the setting connected with a lot of people. We all know Randys, Olivers + Karens, people who've fallen through the cracks in some way. To them, America's spirit of self-determination isn't about individual identity - it's more "you're on your own."

Why I chose to set DT in America would be a novel length answer in of itself, but it mainly came down to history + narrative opportunity. I wanted to set the game in the epicenter of where the phone-revolution came from and Crown likely couldn't have pulled his plan off anywhere else and probably not during any other time. It had to be 1960's America.

Of course, some parts of DT are sorta universal and were inspired by the the Great Recession and what followed. I remember there was an area not that far from my house that was full of green fields when I was born and when I was a kid (and when real estate boomed), stuff started being built there. Parts of it looked really nice, not quite like anything nearby. Like the future was coming. Then the economy crashed and stuff was left sitting there, half-built for like a decade. Skeletal, unfinished buildings. DT is much the same.

There's a feeling that the city could've been something better and while things could be more equal, it does feel like there are no easy solutions to fix everything - unless someone very smart and determined somehow bypassed every safeguard that was set up to halt radical change and enacted a genius plan to somehow eliminate scarcity. It happened once and might never again.

I don't think most people understand the intricacies of stuff like global commerce all that well (myself included), but when you're sitting looking at a half built neighbourhood mere hours after speaking to a friend who just kicked out of rented accommodation and doesn't have a stable family unit to fall back on, you'd have to be a real dolt not to understand that things aren't great right now. Most people are scraping by and feel if they could just get affordable housing locked down, if they had maybe one good opportunity - maybe there's hope that things could change for the better.

The end of DT isn't really utopian, things don't massively change for the better and indeed, the town has a lot of rebuilding to do. But, a collection of lonely people are now looking out for each other and through the relationships they have, now feel like they have a place in this world. That no matter how bad things really get - they aren't truly by themselves anymore. Most individuals don't have the means to significantly advance change on their own - but you can live your life, love those around you and support others and plan for when the opportunity to affect change comes about.

I guess that's what life is, in America or anywhere else. Sorry I rambled for so long. Hope this answered the question!

[milfsloverblog]

Hii!! I have a Larissa x reader request. Larissa is in her late forties, has a shit ton of money (cause that woman screams money) and she's also a tad lonely, so she decides to find herself a sugar baby and that's where reader comes in, they are broke, almost finishing college and in need of quick money. I really just need this woman to pamper me with money and love and good sex, lots of mommy kink and out of the bedroom dominance pretty pleeeeeaaassseeee

Secret Benefits (NSFW)

Part 1. (Next part)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Anon, I loved this request so much I’ve decided to turn it into a multiple chapter fic. We’re mostly setting the scene in this chapter, but I added a tiny bit of smut. Thanks for the request, enjoy!! <3

You didn’t feel very proud as you clicked on the “sign up” button on the app your best friend told you about. You typed in your information - Name, age, height, weight, eye and hair colour. It did feel like you were only a product to be bought but it was what you were looking for, after all.

You filled in the “looking for” section - women, preferably. You didn’t care much about height or weight or anything like that, really, although you hoped you would be able to at least find someone attractive. But you couldn’t afford to be too picky.

It did feel like signing up for a normal dating app until you reached the “monthly income” criteria. This was by far the most important criterion, the one that had led you to this website, and yet you didn’t know what to answer. You stared at your phone screen for a moment before eventually typing in “Minimum $3500”. It felt like a correct amount, enough for someone to take care of themselves and you as well.

You uploaded a few pictures, a couple of selfies and one where your whole body was visible. You probably would have more chance of quickly finding someone if you uploaded a more revealing picture, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not yet.

You took a deep breath and clicked on the button that would make your profile public, watching the message that popped up on your screen - Welcome to Secret Benefits, the number one sugar dating app in America.

Your profile had only been public for a few minutes when you received your first like and inbox message. A man saying he would pay you a thousand dollars a week and didn’t want anything in exchange, only to chat with you. Your friend had warned you about this kind of scam so you simply rolled your eyes and reported the profile.

Browsing through the app you quickly realised that most people on there were men over forty searching for a pretty thing to parade around with. You knew it was the whole point of this app and those kind of relationships, but still.

It felt like you had been scrolling for hours when a profile finally caught your eye. Larissa, 48. Her picture was what first caught your attention. The woman was half-turned from the camera, holding a glass of red wine in her hand. Her white hair was tied in an intricate updo, her lips painted with a crimson red that matched her nails and her blue eyes fixed on the camera as if she had caught the photographer in the act of taking her picture. It almost felt like she was looking right at you. She looked beautiful.

You clicked on her profile, hoping to learn more about the woman. You read her body description, eyes widening when you reached the height criteria and read that she was 6’3. She looked like the type of woman who enjoyed wearing heels and you felt dizzy at the thought of a two metres tall woman towering over you.

You noticed that she had picked “Unspecified” for the monthly income. You weren’t sure what that meant exactly. Was she wary about sharing her income? Strange, given the kind of app you were on. Or perhaps she was old money. She did look wealthy, the kind of woman who would have grown up in a rich family and inherited it all.

She had listed a few of her interests in her bio. Art, luxury fashion and haute couture, feminism. There was a single sentence written underneath, one that had your breath hitch in your throat.

“I call myself a hedonist, I seek utmost pleasure in everything I do.”

And that was enough to have you hooked. You didn’t care about the other thousands of profiles on the website anymore. You only cared about her. Larissa, her sapphire eyes and crimson lips, her hedonistic lifestyle and promise of utmost pleasure, and most importantly - her money.

You clicked on the little heart next to her profile picture, like your friend had told you to do. Now you were supposed to wait and see if the woman would like your profile in return. You could have sent a private message straight away, but your friend said it was better not to, it would make you look too desperate. I am desperate, you thought.

It was only hours later, when you were freshly out of the shower and about to get into bed, that your phone pinged and you quickly grabbed it to check the notification.

Larissa liked you back! The start of a beautiful story?

You stared at the notification for a minute, what were you supposed to do now that she had actually liked you back? You weren’t even expecting to get that far when you signed up.

You sat down in bed still wrapped in your towel and took a deep breath. How were you even supposed to engage in a conversation with a woman like her?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a while. Everything you could think of sounded lame and you even considered calling your friend for some advice but it would have just been embarrassing.

You: Hi there! I came across your profile and was very intrigued by your sophistication and the way you described yourself. How has your day been?

That wasn’t too bad. At least you hadn’t sent a cheesy pickup line.

The little “seen” quickly appeared under your message and you bit your lip in anticipation.

Larissa: Good evening! Thank you for reaching out. My day's been quite busy with work, but I'm always up for interesting conversations. How was yours?

Okay, she had answered. She had liked you back and she had answered. Great, it was great.

You: I'm glad you're taking the time to chat. My day's been mostly filled with classes and hanging out with my friends, a normal day in the life of a college student haha. What do you do for work?

Larissa: I’d rather keep my work private, at least for now. But I promise I’m not doing anything illegal! College student, what do you study?

Well, that was a bit strange, although you could see why someone wouldn’t want to share their work field on this kind of app, there was no doubt those arrangements could ruin some people’s lives.

You: Sure, no worries! I study marketing. It’s not always easy but I enjoy it for the most part. I’m really curious about what brings you to this app?

The message was read almost instantly but it took the woman a few minutes to answer. Was she hesitant? Searching for the right words?

Larissa: I appreciate your curiosity. I'm mostly looking for a mutually beneficial arrangement where we can both enjoy each other's company and experiences. What about you? What are you looking for on here?

A mutually beneficial arrangement, that was certainly one eloquent way to put it.

Larissa: I'm seeking someone who can support me as I navigate my studies. I live on my own and have a job on the side but it’s getting really hard to finance everything alone. Plus, I think having someone older in my life, someone with more experience, could only be beneficial. It’s all about benefits and enjoying the finer things, isn’t it?

Larissa: It is! I suppose it’s the main reason why so many young women are on this app. Tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your free time?

You: Well, I honestly don’t really get much free time. But I like to sit down with a nice book whenever I can. I enjoy going for walks and I could spend hours in the kitchen cooking and baking. What about you? Any favourite ways to unwind?

Larissa: I don’t get much free time either if I’m being honest. I’m a busy woman. I do enjoy sitting by the fireplace with a book and a glass of red, one of life’s simple pleasures. I love exploring art galleries, trying out new restaurants and I sometimes, although very rarely, indulge in spa retreats.

Spa retreats? These things cost a fortune! You were lucky if you could indulge yourself in a night out with your friends!

The two of you kept exchanging for a while. You learnt that Larissa was British, that she had moved over here for her studies. She loved travelling, had been to many places around Europe and was a big fan of French cuisine. She felt like the kind of woman you could listen to for hours without ever getting bored.

It was getting late, your eyes were practically closing themselves and you knew you would be absolutely exhausted in the morning, but you didn’t want the conversation to end.

You had been talking for nearly two hours when the woman asked if you had ever dined at Ambrosia, a restaurant way out of the centre of Jericho. You snorted loudly as you searched the restaurant on Google and realised it was a gastronomic one. Did she really think you could afford that kind of place?

You: No, I’ve never been there. But I’ve just googled it and it looks like a nice place!

Larissa: It’s my favourite restaurant in Jericho, I think I must have tried everything on the menu by now. Would you like to join me there for dinner, let’s say on Saturday night?

Saturday night? You quickly checked your schedule, you were working at the bar that day.

You: I would love to, I really would love to, but I’m working that day and I can’t miss a shift…

Larissa: If it’s about the money, you don’t need to worry. Call your work tomorrow, let them know they will need to find someone to fill in for you on Saturday.

You swallowed thickly. What if this was some joke? What if you showed up at the restaurant and she wasn’t there? You would miss your shift, and lose money for nothing. But if she did show up…

You: Fine, I’ll call in the morning. What time should we meet at the restaurant?

Larissa: 6.30 pm? If you give me your address I will have a car sent for you. However, I understand if you feel wary about giving that kind of information to a stranger.

You did feel more than wary about giving her your address. For all you knew it could be some creep hiding behind that profile. But if you didn’t take the leap, you might miss a great opportunity. So you did it, you sent Larissa your address and thanked her for wanting to send a car.

Larissa: Thank you, darling. The car will pick you up at 6. I should probably let you get to bed now, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep during one of your classes. Thank you again for reaching out, it’s refreshing to connect with you.

You: Thank you, Larissa. Likewise, I enjoyed our conversation. See you on Saturday!

You closed the app and took a deep breath. You were insane, absolutely deranged. Who in their right mind would agree to something like this so quickly? You groaned and pulled the duvet over your head. You’d think about this later, all you wanted at that moment was to sleep.

-

Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. Your friend had asked you if you’d had any luck on the app yet and you lied, telling her that no one seemed interested in you yet. Maybe you would tell her about your meeting with Rissa once it’d be done. Maybe.

You had exchanged a few more messages with Larissa the next day, just to keep in touch and let her know that you were looking forward to meeting her, and so was she.

The doorbell of your flat ringing woke you up early on Saturday morning. You quickly threw on some pyjamas and went to open, your eyebrows shooting up when the courier handed you a big cardboard box.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself as you placed the box down on your coffee table.

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and carefully cut the tape, holding your breath as you opened the box. There was a small note on top of something wrapped in gold tissue paper.

I picked you an outfit for tonight, I had to guess your size using your pictures but I’m pretty certain it will fit. I suggest wearing a pair of black heels with it. See you tonight, darling.

-Larissa

You had to read the notes a few times to make sure you weren’t just making things up. She had picked you an outfit, really? Did she think you couldn’t dress up on your own? Well, to be fair you weren’t sure you had anything chic enough in your wardrobe, but still.

You carefully opened the tissue paper and your breath hitched as you unfolded the black slip dress that she had picked for you. The silk fabric felt incredibly soft under your fingertips and the lace trim on the neckline was beautiful.

“Simone Rocha.” You read the tag out loud. The name did ring a bell somewhere in your mind, was that a designer dress? Well, at least now you knew the woman was serious about taking you out for dinner tonight.

You were about to close the box when you noticed there was something else in there. You picked it up, eyes growing wide at the sight of a burgundy thong. It was beautiful. Made out of lace and embroidered with floral details, it probably cost more than your whole underwear drawer.

You bit your lip looking at the two items of clothing in your hands. Maybe you could get used to this lifestyle.

-

The car sent by Larissa arrived at your place at 6 pm sharp. You quickly put on your heels, fixed your lipstick, and took a last look at yourself in the mirror. The dress fitted you like a glove and you had rarely felt that beautiful in a piece of clothing, you looked expensive.

Hundreds of thoughts were rushing through your brain as you sat in the back of the car and absentmindedly looked outside the window.

And suddenly it hit you - would Larissa be expecting sex from you? Your eyes widened at the possibility. You had not talked about this. Sure, the woman had said she wanted someone to spend time with, but spending time with someone could mean a lot of things!

You were almost thinking about changing your mind and going home when the car pulled over and the driver let you know that you’d reached your destination. You took a look at the building outside and swallowed thickly. There was no going back now.

You thanked the driver and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You were halfway to the restaurant door when you heard your name being called, causing you to spin on your heels.

“Larissa?” You asked as your eyes landed on the woman walking towards you. She looked just like her picture - tall, elegant, beautiful.

“Yes!” She smiled and nodded.

Noticing that she looked you up and down, you allowed yourself to do the same. She was wearing an emerald fitted dress that perfectly hugged her waist and hips. Her legs had to be the longest you’d ever seen, they seemed to go on and on until you finally reached the silver heels that were on her feet.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled back, feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what to say.

“Likewise.” Larissa answered and pulled the door open to let you in, her hand falling on the small of your back as she followed you inside.

Everything inside the restaurant reeked of wealth. The high ceiling, the polished wood floor and the leather seats. You were out of place and you felt like everyone around you knew it.

“Miss Weems, good evening!” A waiter flashed the woman a bright smile. “Your usual table?”

“Good evening, Adam. Yes please, the usual.” Larissa nodded and her hand on the small of your back gently pushed you, signalling for you to follow the waiter.

You sat down at the table and could immediately tell why it was Larissa’s favourite table. It was at the back of the restaurant, in a quieter space, and it had a perfect view of all the other tables.

The waiter brought the menu almost immediately and made a few suggestions as he poured two glasses of water. You could feel the older woman staring at you as you opened the menu and flipped through the pages. Everything was expensive, a whole three-course meal in this place would cost as much as your biweekly grocery budget. It was insane.

“Anything tempting you?” Larissa smirked, a strange glint in her eye.

“Um…Yes, yes there is a few things that sound really good.” You nodded and pushed an awkward smile.

“The dress suits you perfectly. You picked the perfect shoes to go with it.”

A blush crept up your cheeks hearing the compliments and you pushed out a shy “thank you”.

“Are you wearing everything that I picked?” Larissa asked, her head slightly tilting to the side.

Her eyes briefly dropped to your chest - no bra, that was the right choice for this kind of dress. Larissa was pleasantly surprised. She had purposefully chosen not to include a bra in the package but she wasn’t sure if you’d wear one of your own.

“Yes,” Your cheeks turned a deep red, not far from the colour of the thong you were wearing. “I’m wearing everything you picked. Thank you, by the way, I loved your selection.”

Larissa’s nostrils flared and she let out a satisfied hum, looking up when Adam reappeared by your table.

Larissa went first, there were far too many French words in her order for you to understand properly, but you enjoyed hearing her accent. It was like honey dripping from her lips. When you snapped out of your thoughts, the waiter was looking down at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to place your order only to be cut off by the tall woman’s voice.

“She will have the seared foie gras as an entrée, followed by the filet mignon - medium rare - with grilled asparagus, and the passion fruit mousse for dessert.” Larissa said, her sapphire eyes looking at you above the menu.

Your mouth dropped open. First, she had picked your whole outfit down to your panties, and now this. I want control, she had told you in one of her messages. You hadn’t really understood what it meant at that time, but you did now. You would never admit how turned on you were as you closed your menu and handed it back to the waiter who gave a polite nod and walked away from your table.

“You’re staring, darling.” Larissa pointed out, making you close your mouth and look away for a second.

“Sorry, I-“

“You weren’t expecting that?”

“Yeah…”

Larissa let out a soft chuckle and reached out, crimson nails taking hold of your chin to make you look at her.

“When we meet, if we meet again, I would like to be in charge of those things.” She simply said.

“In control, you mean?”

The woman’s nostrils flared again and she gave a small nod.

“Yes, in control. I do enjoy knowing you’re wearing something that I picked for you, that you will be tasting what I want you to taste.”

There was something almost erotic in the way she said it, something that sent a shiver down your spine and had your eyes dropping to the woman’s lips, watching them curve in a smirk.

“I wanted to ask-“ You mustered the courage to say. “If you would be expecting…more than just my company.”

“Sex?” The word sinfully rolled from her tongue.

“Yes.” You let out in a whisper.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

Maybe.

“No.” It instinctively slipped from your mouth. “This is not the kind of arrangement I’m looking for.”

“Well, then I’m not expecting sex from you, no.” Larissa simply answered. She seemed sincere, like she really had not been expecting anything more than your company.

What if you had said yes, though? Would she have sex with you if you ever changed your mind? You swallowed thickly at the thought and picked up your glass, taking a couple of sips of water.

Larissa asked about your day and if you could explain what your studies consisted of, which you happily did. You told her about economics, and how you had learnt about analysing consumers and competitors. You were sure that it was boring, having to listen to these things when you weren’t involved in marketing, and yet Larissa’s eyes never left you. She gave a nod here and there, and asked more questions when something wasn’t fully clear to her. She seemed genuinely interested in you, and it felt nice.

“Thank you, Adam.” Larissa smiled when the entrées were placed on the table.

You looked down at your plate, it was beautifully presented and smelled incredible. What was it again?

“Seared foie gras,” Larissa said as if she could read your mind. “Enjoy, darling.”

“Thank you, enjoy!” You answered and picked up your fork to try the foie gras. You remembered having tasted it once, years ago at a wedding. But it didn’t taste this good in your memory.

Larissa watched your every move. She watched you push the fork inside your mouth, how you closed your eyes when the food filled your tastebuds. The foie gras was exquisite, the woman knew it, and she relished in the pleased hum that escaped you.

“What do you think?” She said, eager to hear your thoughts.

“It’s delicious, thank you for picking it.” You answered honestly, causing Larissa to let out a shuddering breath. Was she getting off on this?

The rest of the meal went smoothly. Larissa seemed determined to keep most of her life private, only answering a couple of your questions, often with well-thought answers that wouldn’t give out too much. It seemed like she enjoyed hearing you talk about yourself, though, for she asked you question after question throughout the evening.

“Thank you for tonight, Larissa.” You said when the two of you walked out of the restaurant. She had paid for the whole bill and, even though you had expected it, it still brought a blush to your cheeks.

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer against her, walking with you towards her car. She had convinced you to let her drive you back to your flat, although it hadn’t taken much for you to agree to it.

You sat down in the passenger seat of her Chevrolet and stayed quiet as Larissa turned on the engine and drove away from the restaurant. A silence fell between you, it was a bit uncomfortable until the older woman turned the radio on and a familiar new wave song filled the car.

Larissa softly hummed along to the tune and her hand moved to rest on your leg, just above your knee, her thumb soothingly rubbing your skin. You didn’t think you would love it as much as you did, but her hand was warm against your flesh and it simply felt right.

“I think we’ve arrived.” Larissa said as she pulled over in front of your flat.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, yes!” You nodded taking a look outside. You had been lost in your thoughts for the entirety of the ride.

Larissa leaned over and pulled something from the glove compartment before handing it to you. It was a small golden envelope with your initials handwritten on it.

“For your missed shift.” She smiled and placed the envelope in your hand.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm. Now go, get some rest.” She purred. “I will text you later.”

“Goodnight, Larissa.” You bit your lip, hesitating for a second before eventually placing a kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“Goodnight, darling.” She squeezed your thigh and watched you step out of her car, waiting until you were inside the building before she drove away.

You closed the door behind yourself and let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. It had gone…surprisingly well. Larissa was truly charming, she was intelligent, eloquent, and wealthy. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

You stepped out of your heels and walked through your flat, dropping the envelope on the kitchen counter before you made your way to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

Thoughts of the older women flooded your mind as soon as you stepped under the hot water jet. Was she home already? What was she doing? Had she enjoyed her evening? You were pretty sure that she had. More than once you had caught her pupils dilating as you thanked her for what she had picked for you, whether it was the food or the clothing. Was she thinking about you right now like you were thinking about her?

Would you like to have sex with me? - her voice echoed through your mind and you whined, dropping your hand between your legs. There was a sense of urgency in the way you fucked yourself as you thought of Larissa being in control of you, your food, your outfit - God, you’d probably let her take control of your whole being if she asked for it.

“Fuck- Larissa!” Her name rolled from your tongue as you reached your climax, leaving you panting heavily against the shower wall. It was depraved, you thought, fucking yourself thinking of a woman you had just met.

The same thought crossed Larissa’s mind as she slowly pulled her fingers out of herself, pushing them between her lips to lick them clean. It was depraved, but you had looked so good in the dress she’d picked for you and you had been so thankful all night long.

The tall woman opened a kitchen drawer, pulled a cigarette out of it, and lit it while she poured herself a glass of red with her other hand. It usually was either one or the other, but tonight she really needed both. Larissa was hooked, she couldn’t help herself, she loved taking care of a pretty thing.

You grabbed the envelope from the counter on your way to bed, opening it once you had settled down under the duvet. Two hundred dollar bills fell on your lap, making your eyes widen. This was almost double what you’d have made for your shift tonight. You bit your lip and put the money back into the envelope before shoving it inside your bedside table. Maybe you could get used to this, spending time with a beautiful woman and being paid for it. What was that thing she said? Ah, yes, to seek utmost pleasure.

———————————————————————

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[anki-of-beleriand]

A heart Made of Glass ch.12

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Okay, this chapter had some tricks in it that are surronding Reader and Wanda, this is their story and this time around Reader would need to make the right decision if she wants to get what she wants and what she needs.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 12

In a different world

The universe started with a spark of bright golden light.

Loki Odinson had seen it several times, he had witnessed the birth and death of multiple universes and timelines that were destined to perish in a myriad of colours that would soon be forgotten. He had sat on the throne, and while he was not a King himself, he could recall the faces of all of those poor souls that disappeared into the nothingness, just as he could remember the beauty behind the first spark of life.

However, what he was experimenting right now was nothing like it.

Whatever, or whoever had decided to intervene had messed up with his own spell and everything had exploded into nothingness. A single spark of red, green and golden then, nothingness. Black spaces that disappeared without any traces left behind.

Loki started at the empty space that was Wanda and Y/N’s basement before he sighed. He sat down shaking his head, a headache approaching just as he thought on the oncoming conversation he would need to sustain with the Avengers.

“Fuck.” The word rolled out of his lips in such a natural way, he could do nothing but leaned back against the wall.

What the hell just happened?

What did he do?

What did Wanda and Y/N do to get this reaction?

The silence soon became deafening, Loki located the book Strange had died trying to recover. He frowned while leaning over to pick it up, the spell was done correctly with all the right wording as well as the right drawings on the ground. So, why did it go wrong? His eyes scanned the pages, re-reading the passages over and over until his heart dropped at one particular line, something he had overlooked the very first time he read that passage.

“…this, however, may be counterproductive if there is a magical or multiversal energy interference, the amount of energy converging at one point may created an unexpected result and…”

Loki knew the rest by heart, he knew there could be troubles but…well, how many energies were involved in the spell? He had counted on those signatures coming from Wanda and Y/N, he had even counted on his but…was there anybody else out there? Was there anybody else at the other side of the multiverse?

“Shit.” Loki stood up fixing up his clothes before flickering his hand to open a portal. He needed to face the consequences of his acts, and the first stop would be the Avengers Tower and Steve Roger’s office.

The former Captain America was going to enjoy telling Loki ‘I told you so’, just before hitting him in the face.

With one last glance to the basement, Loki turned around and left the place.

He never worried to test the energy fields around, or to tap into the timelines flickering in front of his eyes. It never occurred to him that, as soon as the explosion happened, a new singular timeline appeared right before his eyes just to blend itself with the other timelines flickering in front of Loki.

No one but the Watcher could see it, The Watcher stood in the sidelines furrowing his brows and waiting.

The world would either collapse in itself, or it would fix the anomalies by itself.

Either way, he was watching history, and the future of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

_________________________________________

Darkness had always been your friend.

You were born in it, and it had been your weapon and your refugee in the hardest of times. That was the main reason you didn’t panic at first, everything around you was filled with the purest form of darkness with a single touch of coldness that sneaked inside your clothes. The hairs on your arms stood up, a shiver went right through your muscles making you groan as you finally experience the pain in your body.

Your mouth opened inhaling deeply filling your lungs with gusts of cold air, your chest contracting itself just before you started coughing. It was then you opened your eyes, and the darkness that you had experienced moments ago was nothing but you woke up from unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed were different white dots in the sky winking back at you. You tried to grasp a single thought, seeking around your mind for a coherent idea but it was almost impossible to do so when the rest of your body was finally receiving different stimulus in the way of pain and coldness.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called to your left, you tried to sit up but a single hand placed itself on your shoulder pressing you to the ground.

“Ease there, pal, you were really hurt back there.”

Even if you didn’t get a chance to sit up, your world started spinning around. The voice was so familiar, yet so different to what you were used to; with some reluctance you turned your face to the right and soon you found yourself looking at yourself.

The other woman offered a tentative smile, though the way she was squinting her eyes and the pursed of her lips told you she was just as confused as you were at the moment. Soft footsteps approached you, America Chavez was wearing a single cut on her cheek and a bruised eye, this time around you didn’t let you counterpart to stop you, you sat up to check over the teen kneeling beside you.

“America, are you alright?” Your eyes rolled back for a moment, your knees fell harshly on the ground while you held yourself with a single hand placed on your leg.

“Y/N, please…” America winced lightly glancing at you then at your counterpart. “I think you were the one that suffered the most…”

“It was my fault, actually. So, sorry?”

You blinked a couple of times, shaking your head made the headache worse and the dizziness settled on your lower abdomen. You lifted your face blinking a couple of times before checking America over, the young woman softened her features with her cheeks colouring pink while her lips tried to offer a single smile. You tried to ignore the other Y/N for as long as you could before turning around to settle your eyes on her.

Just like America, she was wearing a single cut on her forehead with her clothes dishevelled but otherwise nothing else. With some reluctance you lifted your eyes looking deep into those eyes that you knew so well.

“This is the weirdest shit I have ever had to live to date.” You finally said shaking your head, “I hope it is the last weird shit ever.”

“Agreed.” Y/N tilted her head furrowing her brows while giving you a quick glance. “Before this happened, I’m afraid I was in your body fighting with someone that got lucky…so…”

“So, that’s why I feel like this?” You cracked smile, your counterpart nodded mirroring the smile on your face. “Okay, got it, so…what the hell is going on?”

America and Y/N glanced at one another then at you, it wasn’t until then that you decided to take a good look at the surrounding area. The place in itself was nothing strange, yet you got a feeling that this was not your universe or even that of your counterpart.

The sky was completely dark filled stars but as you got to observe them above your head you realized there were not your stars. The constellations you had come to know thanks to Natasha and Carol had been changed and were replaced by different forms you did not recognize. With a single frown you lowered your eyes to find yourself in a plain of land filled with dried grass that extended beyond what the eyes could see. It was an empty land, with nothing beyond the darkness of the night without any moon it was hard to actually see something that could give you an idea of your location.

The sound of whistling called your attention, and soon you found yourself being wrapped tightly by two pair of arms. Before you could protest or ask what they were doing, you experience the sharp bite of wind, A cold, merciless breeze that soon turned into a whirlwind that left as suddenly as it had come.

“Wh-what the hell?” Your eyes opened wide, your teeth chattering while America and Y/N leaned back wincing.

“We need to move.”

You furrowed your brows shaking your head, “move where? I can barely see you two, how are we going to see the path or…where the hell are we?”

America sighed standing up, she stretched her hand to you offering a tender smile.

“You haven’t figured it out?”

You stood on weakened legs, your mouth opened ready to protest until you finally realised it. While it was true there was nothing much to see beyond the darkness and the starry night, you could see America and your counterpart just fine. It took you but a few minutes until, you lifted your hand and the shadows followed you giving you a good glance of what was around you.

“We can manipulate shadows, the night in itself is darkness and filled with the main source of our power.” Y/N stated matter-of-factly while standing before you, you nodded curtly feeling foolish for not even thinking about it.

“Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?”

America grabbed your hand, then turning to Y/N she shrugged also grabbing her hand as well.

“We may as well update her while we continue walking.”

“We saw lights coming from what we think was a village a few kilometres away, were trying to get there until these weird whirlwinds came in and we couldn’t carry you anymore.” Y/N explained shrugging. “We’re guessing once we get to some sort of place filled with civilization we will know more…”

“Why didn’t you try to travel through the shadows?” You asked ready to do so when the warning tone from your own voice stopped you.

“I couldn’t do it without leaving America here, and I have a bad feeling as soon as I tried it…so…” Y/N shrugged looking ahead of her, “I always follow my instincts, they have never failed me.”

The comment sent a sharp pain straight to your heart.

Your instincts had never failed you either.

Nothing else was said after this, the three of you were following the direction America had pointed out but you were just lost not really knowing if this was the right path or just a wild guess. The temperature was dropping even more, soon your teeth were chattering alongside those of America and the other you. You felt a sharp pain through your head, whatever had happened before you woke up had left your body quite bruised and right now all you wanted was to find a bed, an analgesic and something to eat. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought came forward in the form of Wanda, panic rose through your chest and filled your mind but before you could ask anything about her your counterpart spoke.

“I still don’t understand how everything came to be,” she spoke with a tone of voice you were familiar with, you let your eyes wandered around the landscape holding onto every word resounding into the darkness of the night.”

“I remembered when Wanda and I saved America the first time, and then trying to safe her from these creatures chasing her down.” Y/N trailed off with her memories making her falter, with a single shake of her head she continued, “I know I was out for a while, so you can guess how surprised I was to wake up in the arms of someone that wasn’t my wife…”

“Not really.” Your reply was filled with coldness, tension building up in your body, “I have always had the luxury of waking up alone in my bed.”

America winced lifting her head to glance at you, her dark eyes begging you to listen before jumping in whatever discussion you wanted to start.

“Agatha Harkness.” The name reached the inside of your mind with the memory of the file you read on her, not only that, but also the different videos you saw surrounding her story inside of Wanda’s world.

“That was the woman you woke up to every day, Y/N.” America chimed in shyly, she lowered her gaze squeezing your hand tenderly. “She had been dragging Scarlet and Wanda around, draining them of their powers and leaving them defenceless for quite some time, and since…well, since Y/N was under her spell…”

You opened your mouth to speak, you wanted to say something but finding your counterpart’s eyes on you whatever argument you had built inside your mind came crumbling down and soon you were given their side of their story.  Little by little the story started making sense, the building of a different world and the intrusive dreams you were having in the last couple of weeks, the purple and red magic surrounding you on that day as well as the mixed-up realities that ended up with you thrown into another’s body. You had always known that Wanda was special, and powerful, you never imagined just how much.

America had been a part of the plan, of course. Her powers would be very beneficial to someone like Agatha, and your powers would make sure no one would ever find her. Everything was about the most basic reason of all: Power. You pursed your lips disgusted; you were dragged into a confrontation with Wanda because there was a woman chasing after power. You had been running from Wanda for more than ten years, and all it took was this woman to ruin everything.

And now, now you were walking down the darkness of the night with a girl that could travel through different universes and your counterpart, a woman that got the life you had dreamt of a long time ago.

“Life is not fair.” Y/N stated glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, “but it is what we have, and we must…”

“…deal with it, take what it is being offered and try to be happy with it.” You finished shaking your head.

“Ah, so not everything is lost, I see.” Y/N allowed a single smile to break on her face, you pursed your lips snorting.

“You don’t know the story.”

“But she does, that’s why she told you those very same words, didn’t she?” Your counterpart stopped all of a sudden, you let out a heavy sigh before turning to face her.

America was standing in between the both of you, her brows knitted together with her gaze travelling around the terrain before settling on the both of you.

“Look, I know that you and Wanda had a different experience than mine, I’m glad you did because…” You trailed off holding onto your emotions, “I don’t wish on you the pain I went through…”

For the very first time ever you saw your own face breaking into a broken-hearted smile, with those eyes losing all light and those lips curving into a crooked smile. It was you looking back, and you understood right there and then that you weren’t the only one.

“You forgive her?” You asked with a hint of hope in your voice, you hated how the question left your lips and how your counterpart understood what you meant.

“How could I not if my heart beats for her?” She replied clenching her eyes closed, her hands rested upon your shoulders before you found yourself looking into your eyes. “There is a difference, though, isn’t it?”

“You guys were not together…” You started but she merely tilted her head.

“You know it wouldn’t matter if we were a couple or not, she chose someone else when we have always chosen her.” Y/N squeezed your shoulders lightly. “The difference is that I gave her a chance because I want to do so, you didn’t because…”

“I don’t believe in second chances! If I have done so she would have broken my heart all over again when she went into her imaginary world with Vision!” You exclaimed enraged, surprising Y/N and America.

The other woman furrowed her brows, she was ready to argue back with you and asked questions about the imaginary world. It was quite evident a lot of things had happened in this strange world and Y/N could only imagine the pain and rage engulfing your heart at the moment.

America could see darkness surrounding the three of you her eyes opening wide almost losing into the shadows until her eyes caught glimpses of red and purple right ahead.

“Guys?” America stuttered lifting her hand and pointing to the distance.

You two stopped your discussion turning around to see the same sparkles of red and purple. It was a formation of dusty colouring breaking into the darkness of the night sky, you turned to the left to see Y/N frowning with determination and America shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“It’s not that far away, I mean it could be at least one kilometre?” Y/N faced you holding onto the previous tension of your conversation with her, you clenched your fist shrugging.

“Looks that way.”

“Are we…” America started but you lifted a hand to silence her.

“Before we jump in to do something I think we need more information, we don’t even know what we are going to find over there.” You looked out of the corner of your eyes; the lights were still gleaming pretty much intensely but you could tell your two companions didn’t want to stay still and do any planning.

“What do you propose?” Y/N asked lifting her chin, “you know pretty well those sparks of crimson are Wanda’s, and we know this woman, this Agatha has been using purple magic. Are you really suggesting we stand here or keep walking in circles?”

“No! All I am asking is to first think about what we are going to do! We’re not even sure where we are much less what we are going to find there.” You asked back lifting your hands in the air and stepping back, the pain you had forgotten in favour of the discussion came back making you winced.

“Look I know you guys think the world of Wanda, and that’s cool, I guess your Wanda,” this time around you pointed to your counterpart trying to remain calm, “she is all love and kindness and that’s fine. The Wanda in world had a total breakdown that enslaved a bunch of people in a reality she created for herself and that microwave she called husband, so forgive me if I’m not going to jump in without any additional information.”

Your tirade echoed through the night, your voice carried by the wind with a dropped in the temperature. The moon that had been travelling with the three of you flickered all of a sudden, and the darkness grew around the three of you. America didn’t miss the flickering lights of crimson and purple, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing your hand in hers, the warm she shared with you made you shivered and with some reluctance you lower you stare to her. Even in such a darkness you could see her brown eyes gleaming with emotions.

“You still love her.” America mumbled squeezing your hand tenderly.

You clenched your jaw tilting your head to the side, America bit her lower lip glancing from you to Y/N.

“I don’t know why this has to be so complicated, but she needs you.” America took a deep breath stepping closer to you. “Wanda is sad, and I know she messed up and that forgiveness should not be given just because you feel that way. But she really needs you, she and Scarlet.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the both of you.” Y/N stepped in making sure you could not look away from your own eyes. “But the woman I love is out there, being it in this dimension or another Wanda Maximoff would always be MY Wanda and I won’t leave her out there to get hurt. If not for you, then at least do it for me.”

It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness and coldness that your heart finally gave in. With a nod, your dropped your shoulders in defeat missing the smile coming from America but never missing the satisfied glance coming from your counterpart. The three of you finally turned to the source of the magic, and without a simple plan you three started making your way to the source.

You were not prepared for what was waiting for you over there.

Agatha Harkness smirked at the woman kneeling before her.

In less than a year she had made it possible to crumble away the legend of the Scarlet Witch while placing herself as the most powerful witch in the multiverse. Her smile never faltered, not even when the world spined around changing into a familiar setting; a place and time Agatha had suffered before but that now she could alter with a single flicker of her hand.

The place was filled with passersby ignoring the presence of the two women; nobody seemed to care that one of them was on her knees with a single neck shackle made of light red and blue tied to a crimson necklace Agatha wore on her chest.

“What do you think about this arrangement, dear?” The dark-haired woman asked, her eyes dropping to the kneeling Wanda who was shooting her a stare filled with anger. “Personally, I think this could be more lively, but don't worry soon enough we will have a show to die for.”

Her laughter was accompanied by a flash of violet, and soon the scene changed and they were transferred to a great marketplace located at the centre of the village. Everyone had reunited around four pillared pyres that were guarded by at least ten knights all dressed in black.

Wanda lifted her face, her ears twitched hearing the sound of angry screams cursing someone she couldn't make out yet. Agatha stirred in excitement; her smile grew until it was a crooked grin with just a hint of madness behind it.

“Here they come…”

The crowd spread around just as four figures came in walking on naked feet wearing red robes and bruised faces. The hatred and fear coming from the crowd was quite evident as the torches and the pitchforks drew wild patterns above the townspeople’s heads. The light of the torches ignited the night, Wanda tensed under the grip of the woman standing beside her, the hairs on her arms raising up while her eyes narrowed to follow the events unfolding in front of her.

The four women were pushed forward, each one of them had a single knight standing behind them with heavy hands they were dragged to the four pillars tied to them facing the crowd. It didn’t take her too long to guess what was about to happen, and what exactly were those pillars; the pyres had been set up to ensure everyone could see the women died. The crowd cheered cruelly, laughing and cursing while the four women glared at the people with more bravery than they actually felt. 

“This was my coven.” Agatha spat out, her hands sparkling with a mixture of red and purple, “they saw my power, they read my intentions and instead of supporting me they dared to try and stop me…”

“I wonder why.” Wanda couldn’t hold the sarcasm behind her voice, Agatha pulled harshly on the ropes holding her neck making Wanda fall on her back.

“You really are more daring than your counterparts, dear. I would be careful, if I were to be honest I don’t need you alive.” 

Agatha caressed the necklace smirking at Wanda, the woman couldn’t hide her anger and the magic that was pulsating inside her was not enough to protect her from Agatha’s anger. Soon Wanda let out a scream of pain, her body twitching painfully until he couldn’t keep her eyes open and all she could think about was the searing pain on her limbs.

“It has been so long since I was just a lowly witch like them, afraid of fire and the angry crowd. I grew to be magnificent, to have power beyond anyone’s imagination…” Agatha continued with his rambling observing with gleaming eyes as the Major of the town stood forward proclaiming the sins of the four women.

“I just had to find you, Wanda, you and that so-called Scarlet Witch.” Wanda took a deep breath, half hearing the woman while watching with horror as the night above her head flickered from one setting to another.

“It was not easy, you know?”

Agatha flickered her hand to the right and soon Wanda was on her knees watching as the world around her changed. It was like watching a movie in a dome. The world changed to day and night flickering images of Agatha dragging her burnt body through the ground whispering spells that only she could hear. The image soon changed showing the passing of time, Agatha looking around the world and stealing the magic of others while seeking something out of desperation.

She finally found it after more than a century.

Wanda opened her eyes at the familiar setting, Kamar Taj stood under stormy winds and heavy snow. Agatha sneaked around, distracting the inhabitants of the temple by provoking landslides that would certainly have killed innocent people if it hadn’t been by the protectors of the temple. She had enough time to steal a single book.

“Y-you…you stole the..th-e…the Drakhold.” Wanda leaned forward resting her hands on the ground, she was shocked to find the snow under her hands was real and that everything she was seeing was not an illusion but a real event.

Her mind was trying to comprehend what was really happening. Her knowledge of the Darkhold had not been as broad as it had been for Strange and even Loki. But she did know one thing or two about the origins of her powers, Chaos Magic had been called and it gave her the power to bend reality and life in ways not many could access to. The darkness inside her had been contained by her family and her loved ones, but the same could not be said by others, apparently.

“I did.” Agatha finally answered tilting her head, soon the scene changed and they were taken to a place Wanda was familiar with.

Westview.

“Yet, I was still not strong enough, or the only one with powers beyond our imaginations.” Agatha made a face, stepping forward strolling down the streets with Wanda following her. “When the Avengers showed up it was quite evident that people with powers could no longer be hidden. It was my time to shine until you, my dear Wanda, showed up.”

Wanda saw herself in a building in Sokovia, it was a place she was familiar with yet the story that was unfolding in front of her had nothing to do with what she had lived once. Her other self struggled to control her powers, to live her life, to be who she was supposed to be but failed every single time. Agatha had never been too far from those events, and whenever Wanda failed, Agatha would clutch the young woman closer to her. The red and purple magic intertwined without anyone noticing.

“What did you do?” Wanda asked, finding herself in the middle of the square in Westview. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining right above their heads and not a single cloud in sight. 

Agatha smirked, her eyes changing colours to one of deep crimson, “I finally became who I am supposed to be, and soon my dear I will have all the power to bend the universes at my will. And now, I will finish what I started all those months ago with your pathetic counterpart and you will help me out with this.”

The world suddenly exploded around them, Wanda clenched her jaw closed, lifting her eyes to the sky to see the runes above her head.

“You…” She gritted her teeth, her eyes closing right away trying to gather her thoughts and power to stop the woman standing beside her.

Agatha chuckled darkly, her gripped on Wanda tightened allowing the influx of memories to invade the mind of the redhead. It was a life she was no familiar with, a suffering she had not experiment in the same way but that generate in her an understanding of the mess this world was in. She could see the moment Agatha entered the story, the failures and the almost victories until finally she got what she wanted.

A weakened Wanda Maximoff without anyone in the world to stand by her side.

Power.

And a way to get away with her plan.

“You…you won’t win.” Wanda finally got out; her eyes gleaming dangerously at the other woman who made a face rolling her eyes.

“I already did, dear. You just haven’t realized it yet.” Agatha let go of Wanda stepping away.

The brunette straightened up lifting her arms in front of her, her hands creating a purple mist while the necklace she wore zealously around her neck gleamed with intensity. Those eyes that moment’s ago had been brown, were now a deep black and the world around Wanda trembled under the electric shift of power the witch was gathering around her.

“Now, I have all the pieces in place, in my world…under my rules.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, “I will bend everyone to my will…and you, Wanda, will be nothing but a bad memory.”

The sky above their heads changed into darkness, the temperature dropped and Wanda felt the heavy weight of the atmosphere overwhelming her. She could sense her counterpart weakening inside the prison Agatha had chosen for her, her thoughts were still a mixture of memories she couldn’t quite place while the heavy emotions running through her soul threaten to overwhelm. Wanda could read the intentions behind the woman standing before her, she could read the hatred and violence behind those dark eyes. Lifting her chin to the sky, and her eyes showing off her own magic she decided if this was going to be her end, she would face it with defiance.

The ball of energy flickered in Agatha’s hand, the world stood still and the with smirked ready to give the final blow.

Agatha was so concentrated in her final goal, she never noticed she was no longer alone and what she though was illusions of her own invention were actually three people she didn’t think would be a problem until one of them stood right in front of her shielding Wanda from an imminent dead.

You had crossed the protective barrier around the strange town with a single thought in mind. Your intention was to get this over with and go back to your life on Norway, your heart beating fast while your mind protest for the easiness in which you were trying to go back to a life in which you were ignoring the woman that had never left your heart. It looked easy, just do your thing and then fixed whatever mess you were in and then…go back.

But the universe and the Powers That Be decided that it wouldn’t be just as easy as a flickered of your hand.

As soon as the three of you crossed the barrier you were face to face with flashes of memories that presented you with a film of the lives of Wanda and Agatha. The stories of the coven and the search for power, as well as the fall of Sokovia and Wanda’s struggles with her powers and her life.

“This is so wrong.” Y/N stated clenching her fist while stepping forward until she was finally standing beside you, the both of you stood on an empty street hearing the sounds of muffled conversation.

“Any plan?” You finally stated ignoring the piercing pain in your heart, your counterpart shrugged nodding to the darkened street that was flashing a mixture of red and purple.

“I think the best approach is a straightforward one.”

“Humph, so go there and just start fighting?” You replied with your lips breaking into a single smirk.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid plan.” America mumbled unsure, she furrowed her brows turning to you and then to your counterpart.

You turned to America placing a hand on her shoulder, “but it is what we have. You are going to stay here and wait.”

“But…I can fight! I can help!” America stepped back frowning, “I won’t be left behind…”

“I know you can fight, kiddo.” You replied tilting your head, “and that’s why you are staying behind.”

America opened her mouth to protest but Y/N came forth shaking her head.

“You are our backup, America. If anything were to happen to us and Wanda…” Y/N stated dropping her gaze for a moment, she turned to you until finally she locked eyes with America. “You need to do anything you can to ensure Agatha won’t scape, you understand?”

America pursed her lips, a part of her understood the mission but another part wanted to go straight ahead and face the woman that had been chasing her through the multiverse. America clenched her fists before nodding curtly and stepping back. You offered a single smile, your hand squeezing comfortingly the shoulder of the teen.

“There would be time, America, for now just watch our backs.”

“I will.”

“Good then, let’s go.”

You nodded curtly allowing your powers to spread in front of you, there was resistance when trying to reach the shadows and for the very first time you understood what your counterpart meant about your instinct. Everything in your body was screaming danger as soon as you came into contact with the shadows, your body shivered under the piercing weight of a million needles. You clenched your jaw closed stepping into the shadows with a single thought in mind.

Wanda.

Without any hesitation and moving through the invisible obstacles in that universe you appeared right before Wanda and Agatha just in time. Your eyes went black with your right arm lifting in front of you and creating a protective barrier just as Agatha’s hand came into contact with your shadows.

There was a flickering of power, the older woman snarled a curse lifting her left arm in the same fashion and launching a second attack. Your eyes opened slightly only for your shadows to slithered away grabbing the woman’s midsection to pull her away.

The world crumbled for an instant; Agatha was completely shocked to see not only you but your counterpart standing right in front of her. The woman straightened up, sweat rolling down her forehead while her right hand closed around her necklace and her other hand summoned the Darkhold.

“You really are a pain in my behind, but at least I won’t have to go around looking for you.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, her annoyance giving way to a confident smile. “Now, how about the two of you are good girls and give up, I would hate to spend my time submitting you to get what I want.”

You spread your feet positioning yourself in a fighting pose, your eyes narrowing slightly while the woman in front of you got her magic ready. But before Agatha could do anything at all, another set of shadows grabbed her arms putting them back making her woman lose her grip on the necklace and the Darkhold, your body tensed when Wanda stood up behind you, her voice quivering slightly as she pronounced your name with reverence and love.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t forget about me, Agatha dear.” Your counterpart said winking at Wanda while flickering her hands away, Agatha grunted freeing herself with a blast of energy and stepping a few feet away.

“Hn, I didn’t expect this.” She stated summoning the Darkhold, the world around the four of you changed, shaping itself in a familiar setting you had come to hate in your mind.

Westview.

Agatha never wavered in her confidence, if anything it seemed to grow the same way her magic was doing at the moment. You took a fighting stance, your shadows flickering around waiting for your command. You glanced out of the corner of your eye, Wanda had been trying to stand up but her knees and feet seemed uncooperative. Before you could offer any help, your counterpart came in wrapping her arms around Wanda while placing her forehead against Wanda’s one.

“Hey, love.”

“Hi.” Wanda replied with easiness, Y/N sighed in relief before placing a single kiss on her wife’s cheek.

“I miss you.” Y/N said softly, your heart shrank with emotion when your mind caught up with what was really happening.

You furrowed your brows, sweeping around the place until your darkened eyes fell on Agatha who was smiling playfully at you, her right hand playing absentmindedly with the necklace.

“Where is…Wanda?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda and Y/N both glanced at one another before they set their eyes on you.

A sinking feeling settled on your lower stomach, you were afraid of the answer when you realized this Wanda was trying to look everywhere but you. Tilting your head, you finally got a good look at your surroundings where the suburban houses filled out the imaginary world; the Wanda you had come to know from another universe held onto your counterpart tightly though right now her green eyes had been focusing straight ahead of you.

“Where is she? Wanda?” You asked again, this time around there was a demanding undertone that the other woman couldn’t ignore.

“Agatha has them under her control, she is using a powerful and dangerous book, Y/N.” Wanda could tell her answer was not of your liking, she stepped forward ready to join you and her wife in the fight glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes.

“You don’t know where she has Wanda?” You asked again never taking your eyes off of the older woman standing before you.

“I have my suspicions but I’m not sure how to interfere with that.” Wanda winced trying to ease out the pain on her neck, you frowned pursing your lips while taking a closer look at Agatha before your eyes found the same house you had come to know as Wanda’s place.

“Well, then let’s get this over with and get Wanda back.” Your arms stretched to the sides, the silent command spurred into action the shadows around you flying straight ahead to try and get Agatha.

Before your counterpart and the other Wanda could help you out, the creatures summoned by Agatha launched their first attack. A great explosion was heard while you evaded the flashing balls of power sent over by the witch.

The fight soon broke over, you didn’t notice it but the dome surrounding this part of the universe tremble sending waves of energy all through the world until they came into contact with the timeline and America. The young woman lifted her head, her eyes gleaming brightly as she tapped into her powers; bouncing on the balls of her feet she waited. America could hear the sound of explosions and the muffled sound of conversations and screams, she glanced at her hands thinking about the lessons she had been learning in the last couple of months. She closed her fists, opening them again before lifting her face. This people had been putting their lives on the line for her, they had been trying to protect her without expecting anything in exchanged. It was about time she helped them.

With a glance to the sky, America took a deep breath closing her eyes for a brief moment. As soon as she opened them, her lips curled into a single smile.

Time for payback.

The street had been completely destroyed during the fight.

There were no more homes standing up, or nice cosy gardens decorating the suburban setting. The world soon became a mixture of nothingness with the flickering holograms of reality that you could not touch. Agatha had learnt a thing or two since fighting with Wanda, you could see her ability to hold onto her powers while also making use of those she had stolen from your Wanda.

You shook your head hating the thoughts running around in your head, the overwhelming emotions that seemed to try and govern your decisions. You tried to focus your energy on what was right in front of you, the problem you were facing went beyond your own emotions. There would be a time for you to deal with them.

Agatha lifted her left hand above her head before letting it fall fast to her side, the sharp pain of your skin being pierce made you grunted. You could feel the wounds on your arms, your eyes igniting in a deep black that soon went right ahead to engulf the witch in front of you.

At some point, Agatha had become faster than your attacks, she stepped aside flickering her hands and soon two more creatures appeared out of nowhere.

“Is that all you got?” You asked almost losing your concentration when you heard the voice of your counterpart in the back.

“Get away from my wife!”

Agatha smirked grabbing her necklace, tilting her head she settled her eyes on you.

“Oh, dear, you would be surprised with the number of tricks I can bring on you.” Agatha stepped forward, her feet never touching the ground. “I could make your dreams come true; I can be what Wanda never was for you.”

You pressed your lips together taking into a fighting stance.

“You know nothing about my dreams, and I am certainly not looking for a replacement.”

Agatha snorted her hand gripping tightly on the necklace, soon a red mist grew from the space between her neck and chest and the world around her turned crimson. Agatha stretched out her arms and the whole world vibrate around you changing in the blink of an eye.

“Are you sure? I can tell by the pathetic way you are always looking at her, but the way you talk about her that there is nothing else you want more than her…” Agatha’s voice rose above the new scene, your eyes flickered around while your stomach dropped when you realized where she had taken you to.

For a brief moment you could make out the screams and grunts of the fight going on right outside this small world. You took a deep breath trying to get a hold of your powers ignoring the runes glowed above your head a clear sign that this was still being controlled by Agatha. You creased your brows knowing that your options were limited if the other woman decided to use her magic at its full potential. She was playing with you, leading you on and one until it was quite clear she was mocking you by placing you right in front of a memory that had broken your heart at some point.

It was playing in slow motion, the video and the room with everyone just as shocked as you were to see Wanda in the arm’s of another. The passing of time, every single moment that you had suffered the betrayal while facing your sadness alone in a world of pure darkness. Your fit closed, the shadows on your feet stirred violently sensing your anger when you heard Agatha laughing. Mocking you.

“How did it make you feel knowing she was happier with a man?” Agatha purred making sure to be as far away from you as she could. “How did it feel knowing you were never going to be chosen in this world? In this universe? I bet it pierce your soul knowing you were the one destined to be alone.”

“Shut up.”

“I can make it go away, I can help you out…say the words, and I will make sure you get what you want.”

Your knees gave under your weight, furrowing your brows you tried to close yourself to the mocking film playing around you trying to focus on the fight. Agatha chuckled tilting her head, this time around the runes above her head pulsated and the two creatures grew before your eyes attacking viciously at your counterpart and Wanda making sure that your conversation and fight with Agatha wouldn’t be interrupted. Agatha centred her eyes on you, her hand grabbing the necklace while the same video seemed to be on replay.

“She won’t be a problem for you anymore, and after I’m done with you…you won’t have to worry about the pain of your broken heart, dear.” The laughter sent shivers down your back, but it was everything you were waiting for.

Your lips curled into a smile, your right hand twirled clockwise and the shadows broke into waves catching up with the witch. Just as you had located her, ready to give her a lesson, the woman was ready to use the magic Wanda and Scarlet were giving to her to make sure the next stage of her plan could be completed.

It never happened, though.

Your attack never stopped reaching out to your objective, while Agatha tried to return the hit she was surprised by a sudden punch to her face. The punch glow white, and her body bounced back and forth until she lost the hold on the necklace, America Chavez didn’t stop there and your shadows went straight to hold onto the witch to bring her down.

Everything happened so fast, your eyes went from America to Agatha and finally to the object on the ground. The necklace bounced on the ground, and without thinking too much you went right ahead to grab it. The object was warm to the touch, you could tell by the vibrations that magic had been contained between the object and this magic could only belong to one person. You closed your hand around it, you could sense Scarlet deep inside your mind. It didn’t take you too long to recognize the woman that had been haunting your dreams as of late, right with her you could also sense Wanda trying to hide, trying to survive.

“NO!”

The scream coming from Agatha was everything you needed to drop the necklace and stomp on the piece of jewellery creating an explosion that blew you and everyone around you away.

“Humph…” Your mouth opened letting out a shaky breath, your body hurt all over while your eyes got use to the sparkling lights that appeared before them when your head hit the ground.

“Y/N!!” You tried to sit up, a pair of arms held onto you for a brief moment until you were capable of making out the figure sitting beside you.

America had her brows creased; her eyes shone with worry while she tried to hold you up. The fighting was still ringing inside your ears, your counterpart was finishing the last of the dimensional creatures while you could spot her Wanda holding back against Agatha. For a brief moment, panic rose inside you the sudden need to throw up became almost to much just as you leaned forward trying to stand up your eyes looking frantically for the women that had been haunting your dreams and reality as of late.

“They are unconscious…” America started but she could not finish her sentence as you stood up without any warning.

“Wanda…” Her name escaped your lips without meaning to, at that moment with your body exhausted and your mind already carrying the weight of so many memories and thoughts all you could do was staggered forward until you reached both women.

You stood on shaky legs glancing from Wanda to Scarlet, both of them unconscious wearing the same bags under their eyes and the bruises all over their faces and arms. You hesitated not really knowing where you should focus your attention until, as an afterthought you went to Wanda. Turning her to the side you ensure she was comfortable, her lip had a deep cut and her forehead had traces of a scratch that left her with blood and dirt. She looked thinner than you remember, with her face wearing still the same defeated expression she wore to your home all those months ago.

“Wanda.” You said her name again, this time around firmer and demanding, your hand trying to help her out until you heard her exclamation of pain. “Wanda, are you alright?”

The young woman stirred in your arms, her eyes flickering slightly until she opened her lips and let out an exclamation of pain. You put her back on the ground, turning around you could see Scarlet was stirring awake as well while the fight seemed to have no end.

“Y/N…” You turned to see Wanda’s eyes fluttering open, her green orbs looking back at you with sadness and tenderness that had your heart beating a tad bit faster.

“Hey, are you alright?” You leaned in but Wanda looked away helping herself up, you tired to assist her but your body froze for a moment unsure on how to proceed with the woman sitting before you.

“I…I am a little sore.” She replied, her eyes never leaving the form of Scarlet, Wanda furrowed her brows glancing at her hands then back at the other woman. “She…she is…Scarlet Witch.”

Her words trembled as she pronounced them, her face lowered thinking to herself knowing full well your attention was on her. She remembered the moment she had separated herself from the legend, the words of Agatha had haunted her at that moment when she realized there was something inside her giving her powers a deeper meaning. She had hated that idea, and the world that had been created out of it.

When Wanda finally dared to look up she found herself looking into your eyes. Her heart stirred with emotion, the words that wanted to pour out of her mouth entangled around her throat for she knew it was not the time for a heart-to-heart conversation. She wished everything had turned out different, but after her confrontation with Agatha and everything she had discovered whiled trapped in that reality she knew what she needed to do.

“Can you…help me up?” She asked shyly, you nodded curtly stretching your hands for her to take them.

She was cold under your touch, and a little sweaty.

Her cheeks coloured pink, and her eyes glanced everywhere but at you. You felt a piercing pain going through your chest, but you ignored it while helping the other woman up. For a brief moment, you thought she could walk on her on until Wanda’s legs trembled and almost gave up on her. You caught her just on time, her body pressing against yours making your traitorous heart stopped for a brief moment.

“How convenient, Wanda.” Scarlet was on her knees; she had sweat falling down her face breathing hard and glaring at the two of you though her eyes were completely focused on Wanda. “You…you don’t do nothing, yet you get to be with her.”

Wanda tensed in your arms, she took a deep breath while pushing you away taking one step at a time until she was standing before Scarlet. You lifted your eyes to see America just as focused on the two women as you were, the sound of the fighting was till rumbling in your ears but it was almost impossible to pay attention to something else that wasn’t the scene playing out in front of you.

Wanda held herself up, conscious of the hatred inside the eyes of Scarlet.

Inside her own eyes.

“We don’t get to be with her.” Wanda mumbled dropping her shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been trying to make amends but I just…”

“You always failed, and you make it worse.” Scarlet spat out lifting her chin in defiance, her position on the ground was not an inconvenience. If anything, it gave her the power that Wanda couldn’t show at the moment.

“I tried to reach out to her, to make her world and mine…to…”

“I know.” Wanda offered a weakened smile, looking out of the corner of her eyes she could see you had your attention on the both of them. “I tried to do the same. I just…I can’t do it alone, and I’m tired of failing every time. I don’t…”

Wanda swallowed down her tears, she leaned in lifting her left hand until she was cupping Scarlet’s cheek. Red mist appeared in Wanda’s hand, and soon her eyes as much as those of Scarlet were shining brightly.

“It hurts so much.” Scarlet said letting the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just…

“I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be without her.” Wanda finally said her own tears falling down her face.

You clenched your jaw, looking away for a moment while your chest felt a myriad of butterflies fluttering inside.

“But I can’t keep fighting alone, or divided.” Wanda stated, she wiped away Scarlet’s tears before adding. “I think we need to be one, you saw just how powerful we are together and…”

“You need to fix this, or we would never…”

“I know, but this may not end the way you want it.”

Scarlet drifted her attention to you, her eyes found those of yours and in there you could read everything you had been so afraid to interpret the first time. There was pain and sadness, emotions that broke into her heart in ways you could only imagine, and then there was love. You looked away stepping back under the intensity of such a stare, you missed the broken smile on Scarlet’s face and the defeat she wore while facing Wanda again.

“I know, I think we will cope when the time for that comes.” Wanda nodded in understanding; her hands gleamed brighter than ever while Scarlet placed her hand on top of hers.

“I promised you I won’t give up.”

“Good, then let’s do this.”

The crimson mist grew around them glowing with a bright, red light making you trembled under the intensity of the magic. You could see America kneeling down, her eyes going wide open as they stare the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Wanda and Scarlet were no longer two different entities.

Standing before you was a single woman, her head was adorned with a red crown that made match with the bodice and the black leggings. Wanda stood there with magic coming from her hands, her eyes a deep shade of red that gathered the power you had always known she had in her. The woman stood still for a moment, she glanced at her body and her hands before her face lifted to stare at you.

You tried to hide your expression, your lips parting to speak but not words came out. Wanda hesitated before nodding her feet moving slowly until she turned around making her way to the fight.

“Is she gonna be okay?” America stood right beside you, squirting at the woman now using her magic to help her counterpart in the fight against Agatha.

“I think so…” You trailed off finally realizing that even though the both of them had finally become one, Wanda was still wearing the bruises and the exhaustion on her face.

“Are you okay?” America asked quite concern, you turned to her offering a half smile.

“I will be.” You sighed scratching the back of your neck. “Stay here and be careful.”

“What are you gonna do?” The teen asked slightly scare, you offered her a half smile turning towards the fight that was a tied between the Wandas and Agatha.

“What we came to do, just stay out of trouble and be ready to help us go back home, okay kiddo?”

America doubt there was anything she could do, but she didn’t contradict you. With a single nodded of her head she watched as you ran towards the fight, your shadows already creating a protective barrier around you and Wanda. Something, America though, you probably were not aware of.

_____________________________________________________________

Loki rolled his eyes once more, he was tired of hearing the fight going on in the meeting room while he stood by the window waiting for the right moment to intervene.

The world outside was highly active, Monday had always been one of the busiest days in the calendar and that day was not the exception. The young god leaned forward, his fingertips touching the window while his eyes observed the golden and green lights of the timelines. His eyes soon fell upon the one he did not recognise, a red line that he could not tamper with but that he was certain contained the answers to the questions everyone in the room were posing.

Loki turned around his eyes finding those of Billy who had not leave his side ever since Pietro brought him into the Avenger’s Tower. The young boy had his eyes narrowed, his hands playing with invisible threats only he could see.

For a brief moment, Loki stood there observing the child with growing curiosity. Billy was tapping the air with his fingertips, concentrated in something only visible to him. Loki frowned with his mind already forming an idea of what exactly was happening.

“Billy, what are you doing?” The question was low enough for the child to hear it but not for the rest of the room to notice it.

Billy lifted his face this time around his eyes went wide opened showing off the innocence of his age, but also the brightness he had inherited from both his mothers.

“Mommy always says to follow my instincts.” There was conviction in his tone, his hands tapping still as if waiting for something.

“And, what are they telling you?” Loki knelt to be on the same height of the child, Billy tilted his head creasing his brows before answering.

“Uncle Loki, momma and mommy need my help…look!”

Loki looked in the direction Billy was pointing to, he gasped with his eyes wide open and a smile forming on his lips.

“Billy you are a genius.” Billy offered a timid smile glancing at Loki shyly.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think thanks to you we are going to be able to help Wanda and Y/N.” Loki could see the excitement in the little boy, he couldn’t help but smile back.

Without giving to much attention to the room, Loki sat right beside Billy closing his eyes before letting his magic to spread around. Billy was slightly confused at first, he had continued working on invisible threads trying to get into contact with them. Now there was something different, with his uncle sitting beside him Billy could sense the magic. He pressed his lips together before sitting down and, imitating Loki, he closed his eyes and just went with his instincts.

_____________________________________________________________

Whatever power she had tried to drain from Wanda and even Scarlet was no longer active to give her the stamina or even the strength to keep up with the fight. She was not even up to sustain the world she had created by tampering on the Chaos magic she could barely tolerate.

Wanda Maximoff gathered her power while circling the woman in front of her, she could feel the hurt she had created for her counterpart had reached out beyond the boundaries of the multiverse and it was something she would not tolerate. Beside her she could sense Y/N, a close shadow that was ready to jump in when necessary to offer protection and support; Wanda couldn’t help but smile.

“You won’t win.” Agatha tried to put up with a fight, she tried to hold onto the last threads of power inside her to get into the fight but she could no longer hold onto her powers for far too long.

You came from behind her your hands wrapping around her wrists while your shadows covered her feet spreading through her legs and body. Agatha was struggling, her eyes going wide open just as she started chanting in a language you did not recognize. Wanda opened her eyes wide, she stepped closer spreading her arms and chanting just the same, the runes trembling right above your head just before a myriad of images surrounded you breaking the darkness before going completely white.

“NO!” Agatha let out a guttural exclamation, her elbow hitting you square in the face but whatever strength she had in her to fight was haltered by your counterpart finishing what you started.

Wanda knew at that moment why she had been feared by Agatha, the power that was held inside her sent electric waves through her body. The power concentrated on her hand, and soon a single jewel showed on her palm while her counterpart continued with the ritual. The runes appeared right above her head, and without any indications, she started chanting as well.

You stepped back falling on your ass, blood rolling down your nose just as you saw the black figured being swallowed by the jewel. There was a moment of flickering lights and then, it stopped. Both Wanda’s stood right in front of the other, the jewel resting comfortably on the hand of Y/N’s wife.

The jewel took into a purplish colour, falling to the ground with a single thump.

The world went silent.

The darkness around you grew, with the stars twinkling right above your head.

Everything was still, with only your hard breathing breaking the tension around your ears. Your body was aching, your mind filled with memories of the past and the present all of them pilling up to overwhelmed you line of thoughts. You closed your eyes trying to forget and wait for everything to be back the way it was in the last year.

But you knew it was just an illusion.

Your world had been shaken up the moment Wanda and America showed up at your doorstep. The fight with Agatha brought back the memories you had tried to forget, it brought with it the truths you were not ready to face. You had always thought that you could outrun your motions, but the world has always taught you this was not possible. Not for someone like you, and certainly not for someone like Wanda.

When you opened your eyes you saw Wanda, your Wanda staring at you, but before anything could be done or said her eyes rolled back passing out of exhaustion. You caught up to her on time, her body falling on yours your face a mask of pure concern just as you ensure she rested comfortably on the ground.

You knew everyone was looking at you, but you decided to ignore them while checking Wanda over to make sure nothing else happened to her.

“Are you alright?” The other Wanda came to you, her voice sent shivers down your back, you didn’t dare to lift your eyes for fear of revealing far too much.

Instead, you nodded taking deep breaths while feeling the ground under your knees, without thinking too much about it, your hand brushed Wanda’s hair tenderly. The attention you were giving to her was something you never thought you would do again. The woman standing beside you shifted her weight and soon she was sitting right beside you; this time around you did turn around only to see her staring at you with big, curious eyes.

“She is still unconscious, but I believe she is no longer two halves of the same person.” Wanda lifted her face to the sky, her lips parting slightly. “Her magic is still erratic, but I believe she would be okay.”

“What about Agatha?” Your question entangled in your throat, scrunching up your nose you decided to conceal your emotions not ready to face the conversation or to address the white elephant hanging around you two.

“She will be trapped in this jewel until you and her decided what should be done with her.” Wanda handed over the jewel, you pursed your lips in disgust before grabbing the artifact.

“The book she had with her, it is the Darkhold, isn’t it?”

“It is.” You nodded this time around locking your eyes with hers.

“Are you taking it with you?”

Wanda broke into an easy smile shaking her head, “it’s not mine but yours. It would be better off in your world, where it belongs.”

“It should be destroyed.” You leaned back resting your hands on the ground.

“It should, but that would be your prerogative not ours.”

Your eyes drifted around the place before they settled on America and Y/N, both of them were engaged in a heavy discussion and you could teel this was the moment America had been waiting for a very long time. The feelings of guiltiness and sadness had been quite evident in her when you two met, right now this was the chance the young woman was waiting for to make amends. To reach for forgiveness.

“So, any idea how we are going to leave this place?”

Wanda nodded leaning back until she pointed to America and your counterpart.

“She is ready to use her powers, I believe she is the only one that can help us right now.”

Not sooner had Wanda said this the world started to tremble, the light of the stars flickered until they disappeared one by one. You straightened up with Wanda standing up as soon as she noticed this.

“I guess…we should try it right now.” You stood up turning to glance at the darkened world, everything was coming in and out of reality with the ground shaking for small periods of time.

“It was a matter of time.” Wanda placed a hand on your forearm, you couldn’t help the tension on your muscles the other woman softened her features stepping closer. “You will be back, and she will need help to recover from this.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready for that?” The question caught you off guard, you knew what was expected of you and what you could do with the woman that had broken your heart at some point.

You could hide behind that excuse until the end of time, but it would run out of any validity at some point. Sooner or later, you knew you would have to face Wanda and decisions must be made. The Wanda standing before you softened her features, her words would made your mind pound with the imminent decisions you would need to make.

“How deep is your anger, and how deep goes your love for you to not face what your heart already knows?” Wanda leaned in and you found yourself in a embrace you didn’t know you miss. Her voice was just a whisper, but it was everything you needed at the moment. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you my love to follow your instincts. They had never failed you.”

America glanced around the group with a nervous smile.

She glanced at her hands then back at you and Y/N, the words of encouragement were ringing inside her head while she tried to gather the courage to move onto the next step.

“Just think about it, kiddo.” Y/N stated grabbing the hand of her wife, America almost winced at those words because her mind had been a myriad of thoughts since they delegate the task of going back home on her.

You fixed the unconscious woman in your arms, putting her closer to you while looking over at America. The young woman closed her eyes, ready to open the portal when Wanda stopped her.

“Wait, America.” The redhead stepped closer placing her hand on America’s shoulder. “Remember, it is more than opening a portal, is about opening the right one.”

“I know, I know…it’s just…easier said than done.” America pursed her lips, she took a deep breath closing her eyes.

“Then, let yourself be guided by your emotions and what you remember of the place you want to go to.” Wanda squeezed the shoulder of the teen tenderly, and for that brief moment America felt it.

It was vague but it was there.

The same kind of energy she had felt on Wanda and Y/N, it was familiar yet different. She had felt it when she first fell upon that universe, the twins had carried with them a strange kind of energy that seemed to engulf the best of Wanda and Y/N.

America closed her eyes and, without thinking to much, she followed the familiarity of that energy. Her mind bringing over the memories of her time in that land, finally easing out her fears and trusting in the women she had surrounding her.

The young woman clenched her fist, and with a single punch she opened the star-shaped portal.

All of them were ready to go home.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[hom3landr]

Madeleines

18+

After a hard day, Homelander enjoys his favorite baker's voice in his ear a little too much.

CW: Brief descriptions of gore

Homelander is seething as he leans against the alley wall. The heady scent of iron hangs thick in the air and gore from some unlucky pickpocket drips from his glove onto the dirty ground. The gruesome red mass of blood and bone that was once a human is still steaming in the cold night air. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a growl of irritation. His fingers leave a sticky crimson smear across his skin. Usually taking out his frustration on some random criminal helps ease some of the tension in his shoulders but he feels no better than he did before he put his fist through the man’s spine.

How dare Edgar? How dare he?

He stomps on the mutilated remains next to him for good measure, imagining it to simultaneously be every person who is dedicated to keeping him down. Starting with that uppity bitch Edgar appointed to the Seven without his permission. Who did she think she was? The way she stuck that camera in his face like he was some kind of zoo animal and smugly hid behind the protection of the faceless nobodies commenting on the screen like a bunch of shit flinging monkeys had his teeth grinding. 

He thought he’d straightened things out with Ashley after his little demonstration with Blindspot but apparently the universe seems intent on mocking him. He curses himself for draining the last bottle of milk earlier. He should have saved it. He couldn’t help himself and on top of everything else shitty about the day, he now has one less piece of her around. It took them a year to begin the renovations on her office and seeing it bare was an all too painful reminder of her absence. He wishes he didn’t miss her. She doesn’t deserve his love after what she did, the way she lied. But he loves her all the same. 

He sniffs, blinking away the sudden shameful tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He needs a win. 

He reaches down to touch his hip where the newly sewn pocket holds his phone. Ever since he gave you his number, he can’t seem to go anywhere without it. He had wardrobe redesign his fucking suit just so he’d have a place to keep it safe. The ribbon he still wears tucked into his waistband. A phone can be replaced if it falls out during a flight, the ribbon can’t.

The thought of you is finally what seems to snap him out of his bad mood. The kiss was two months ago but it seems so much longer. He remembers the warmth of your kiss and the softness of you against him on the couch as the two of you ate gingerbread and watched Christmas movies. He’d wanted to take you so bad, fuck you raw against the counter until you dripped with him, hoping that maybe it would take and give you your own little Christmas miracle. He’d had to take a break and jerk himself off in the bathroom just so he could think straight. Even now, his stomach flips at the memory.

He’d been a good boy. He’d behaved himself. He acted a perfect gentleman and there was no way you could have known his depraved thoughts when he swept you up to slow dance to a Frank Sinatra record. The singer wasn’t half bad actually, maybe he’d originally judged him too harshly. You’d blushed and swooned and when he had to leave he gave you one last gingerbread scented kiss, the stars reflecting in your eyes as you leaned over the fire escape to wave him goodbye. 

After that night things mostly returned to normal. With Transluscent’s funeral fast approaching and the new Saving America campaign about to take off, Homelander had been too busy to even think about seeing you. He’d catch you staring at him in the halls sometimes and his heart beat faster every time. Now that he knows you feel the same, he’s almost at a loss as to how to proceed and it’s easier to bury himself in his work where he can rely on dependable fantasy to get his fix of you.

But after the fucking day he’s had, he’s tempted to fly straight to your apartment and kiss you stupid.

Fuck

There’s an idea… no one said it had to be your mouth

His pants grow tight instantly at the thought and the rush of arousal is a nice balm to his wounded ego. It barely takes a second for him to unclick his belt and pull himself free. He groans lowly in relief as he strokes himself nice and slow. The blood still staining his glove provides an easy glide until his cock is standing at full attention and dripping onto his boots. He keeps his touches nice and light, a little tentative, the way he imagines you would. His free hand reaches for the ribbon, holding it to his nose so he can catch your scent. His cock twitches in his grip and he thumbs his slit as he arches into his fist.

He groans your name before releasing his cock to cup his balls, tugging gently to tease himself, imagining your face looking up at him as he plays with himself. The wall behind him cracks as he throws his head back in pleasure.

A tinny jingle breaks through the haze of his arousal and he immediately fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket, recognizing the tune he’d picked for you so he’d always know who was calling him. The ribbon is promptly tucked back away as he slides to answer the call. His cock feels even heavier in his grip as he anticipates the sound of your voice. It’s like you knew what he was doing. This was the first time you’ve ever called him and your timing couldn’t be more perfect.

The first thing he hears is the clang of utensils and he knows instantly that you must be baking. He bites his lip to keep from grinning at how predictable you are. He can almost smell the sugar through the phone.

“Hi! I hope this isn’t a bad time. I’m trying a new recipe from this french cookbook I picked up and I always get nervous the first time I bake something. I figured you could help me take my mind off things while the cookies are in the oven.” Your voice is so sweet and he has to pinch the base of his cock to keep from shooting his load like some pathetic schoolboy. It feels so illicit to touch himself while you are so innocently seeking his company on the other end of the phone. You probably have flour on your cheeks and your strawberry apron on and the thought causes him to throb painfully. He gives himself an experimental tug and his fucking knees almost buckle.

“It’s never a bad time for you to call.” He replies warmly, trying to keep the rasp of pleasure out of his voice so you don’t suspect. You go quiet for a moment and he knows you’re blushing. He bets that if he were there that the smell of you soaking your panties would be filling the room. You get wet so easily. He remembers your phrase from the second time he spoke to you. You have a “nervous disposition” apparently but he knows what really has you trembling and it’s something a lot filthier than a little anxiety. 

“Thanks, that’s very sweet of you to say. I meant to call sooner but Ashley has been running me ragged for weeks with all the prep work for the funeral. I’ve barely had any time to myself.” You reply with a huff and the clear annoyance in your voice has him both amused and indignant on your behalf. He’ll have to have a firm discussion with Ashley about being respectful towards your time. The thought that you could have been calling him for weeks has his teeth on the verge of grinding again so he teases the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock until he relaxes into the pleasure again.

“I can’t have you exhausted at work. I’ll talk to Ashley about giving you a break. You deserve to rest.” He coos at you as his hand quickly finds a rhythm that feels right. 

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I miss you.” Your voice softens longingly and he can picture the wistful look in your eyes perfectly. 

You want him so fucking bad.

He thrusts into his fist, briefly removing his phone from his ear and biting into the soft leather of his glove so you won’t hear him moan like a whore. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be your gentleman lover. He wants a romance like the old movies and he wants you to picture him that way. 

But fuck

You want him and it seems pointless to stand here and jerk off to your voice in a blood-soaked alleyway when he could be buried in your sweet little pussy. You’d get over your shyness once he was bouncing you on his cock until you were soaking and shaking so hard that he’d have to hold you steady. He’d take you on every surface until he was sure that he’d fucked all traces of your “nervous disposition” right out of you. 

He has to pinch himself again to hold himself back. He doesn’t want this to end so soon. He tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he gropes at his chest. He really wishes his suit wasn’t so fucking hard to get off so he could tease at his nipples and imagine you mouthing at him. He’d make sure you knew every inch of his body.

“I miss you too.” He answers truthfully, leaning back against the wall and bracing his feet wide so he can really fuck into his fist the way he imagines fucking you. 

Have you ever even had your pussy licked? He hopes not, he wants to see your face the first time you feel a tongue on your pretty little clit. He wants you to gush all over his face till it soaks into his suit and he can smell you for weeks after.

“Maybe once things calm down, we can hang out again.” You sound so hopeful and the soft noise of rustling fabric makes him realize that you must be fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You kissed him first and yet you still seem unsure of his returned affection. You still worry that his voice will turn to a harsh rebuke again.

“I’d like that. Y’know, maybe I could fly us to Paris so you can do some first hand research. A cookbook will only get you so far. I’m sure Vought could arrange a meeting with a pastry chef.” His cheeks flush as he imagines you beaming at him under the glow of the Eiffel tower, soft and pleased with him as he leans down to kiss you tenderly. You’d appreciate what he could do for you. He wants to do so much for you.

His balls tighten up at the fantasy and he finds it a little strange how the innocent scene has him closer to coming then all the filthy scenarios he could muster. 

“Oh” 

You sigh, and he can hear the flustered wonder in your voice at the thought.

Oh

With a strangled groan he comes, hot thick ropes of come covering his fist, his suit, dripping to the ground in milky white puddles that fuse with the crimson aftermath of his earlier rage.

“I’ve never been to Paris.” You reply breathlessly in a way that almost mirrors his own ragged panting. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath as he strokes the last remaining remnants of his pleasure out of his tender cock, whimpering at the almost too much ache of sensation.

“I guess it’s a date then.” 

_______

Later, once he’s back home and clean and snug in his bed, he sleeps well for the first time in weeks. He dreams of the Paris sky and the stars in your eyes as you look at him like someone you could love.