#thank you to everyone who has been so patient with me

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): iii

A/N: well here we are! the final chapter of “older (and wiser).” this will not be the end tho! i plan to write a prequel series going more into depth about wanda and readers past, how they came to be, how they fell apart and what not. i do want to to make one more thing clear before you continue reading; this story is meant to be as realistic as possible. meaning the ending may not be for everyone. i specifically wrote this with intent of giving these characters an emotional arc they deserved. so, without further ado, enjoy this final chapter!

synopsis: wanda comes over for dinner one last time.

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst

warnings: it’s gonna be sad lowk. get the tissues ready.

MASTERLIST series masterlist

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

wanda spends most of the night back at her hotel, staring out the large window that overlooks the city. neon signs flicker in the distance, their glow casting fragmented patterns across her room.

she leans her forehead against the cool glass, letting the city hum around her, lost in thoughts of you. she imagines what you could be doing right now. if paul’s arms were wrapped around you, if he makes you laugh the way she used to. a hollow ache settles in her chest as she lets herself sink into the deep loss of not having you anymore.

the next day, early morning, wanda’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. she reaches for it groggily, only to find a message from you at the top of her screen.

come by at 6:30? here’s the address: 150 west 26th street, new york, ny 10001. see you soon!

for a moment, wanda just stares at the screen, her thumb hovering over the message. she exhales slowly, closing her eyes as a wave of uncertainty washes over her. part of her wants to pack her bags right then and there, to book an early flight and leave you in this city behind.

she doesn’t know which is worse. never facing you again or having to sit across the dinner table from you and your husband-to-be.

she spends the rest of the day mentally preparing herself for how this evening could go, running through endless scenarios in her head.

what would one talk about when having dinner with their ex’s fiance? especially when said ex is someone you’re still seemingly in love with.

oh yeah, your fiance used to look at me the same way.

or

of course, i know what her favorite song is. ‘do i ever cross your mind?’ by dolly parton. i performed it for her on our eighth month anniversary.

yeah, i paid the tech guy in the theatre department extra to let me use the theatre after hours.

the thoughts make her cringe, but the bitterness is hard to suppress. she tries to bite back the small, unwarranted hatred she’s developed for paul. everything she’s learned about him—despite her best efforts not to—has been nothing but positive.

he’s generous, patient, successful, and clearly loves you. and wanda knows you wouldn’t be marrying someone who didn’t treat you like you deserved the whole world.

it’s all pathetic in its nature. she should have been over you long by now. but she doesn’t know how to explain to you— to explain to herself—that leaving you is still something she’s trying to process. that even when she didn’t appreciate you enough, you felt like everything to her. you still do.

and she doesn’t know how to make sense of any of it.

by the time the sun sets, wanda’s resolve is still fragile. she dressed carefully, standing in front of the mirror for far too long, fussing with her appearance. she wants to look composed, unbothered. as if seeing you happy with someone else doesn’t feel like dagger to the heart. one that you keep twisting without trying.

at 6:15, she steps outside her hotel and hails a cab, clutching a bottle of wine she bought earlier as a polite gesture. as the cab weaves through the bustling streets of new york, wanda wonders what kind of expression you’ll wear when you see her. will it be warm, nostalgic, indifferent? she braces herself for anything.

when the cab drops her off in front of a sleek residential building in tribeca, she lingers for a moment before buzzing in. the door unlocks with a soft click, leading her into a quiet corridor toward an elevator. she steps inside, pressing the button for your floor with a hand that feels unsteady.

the walls feel too close. the air feels too thick.

by the time she reaches your door, her nerves are frayed. she knocks twice, her heart hammering.

four seconds later, the door swings open, and there you are, beaming at her like no time has passed.

"hi! it’s so good to see you."

before wanda can say anything, you pull her into a hug, warm and familiar. she exhales sharply, caught off guard, but she lets herself sink into it, just for a moment.

when you pull away, she notices the man standing just a few feet behind you, a cat in his arms. he watches the interaction with a patient, kind smile before gently setting the cat down.

“sorry about that,” paul says, laughing as the cat immediately tries to sneak toward the door. "he bolts every chance he gets."

then, without hesitation, he steps forward and grasps wanda’s hands in his own. his grip is firm, his smile genuine.

“it’s really nice to meet you, wanda.”

for a second, wanda is stunned by the ease of his kindness. she had spent so much time building him up in her head as an obstacle, an enemy, but standing here now, faced with his warmth, she almost felt guilty for ever resenting him.

“thank you for having me,” she manages, recovering quickly. she glances around, taking in the space. "you have a lovely home."

then, as if suddenly remembering, she reaches into her bag.

“i brought some wine,” she says, handing it to you. “the expensive kind. i know my stuff.” she huffs out a small laugh, forcing some lightness into her voice.

paul chuckles, taking the bottle from your hands to examine it. “i like her already.”

and just like that, wanda knows this is going to hurt more than she thought.

dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and well-meaning smiles. paul is gracious, effortlessly kind, and wanda hates how easy it is to like him. she hates that there’s nothing about him to hate at all.

she watches the way you lean into him when you laugh, how his hand absentmindedly finds yours on the table. it’s second nature, the kind of comfort that only comes with time, with certainty.

and wanda knows, without question, that she has none of those things with you anymore.

paul has made it a habit to ask about how you and wanda met. even though she’s sure he already knows most of the story, he’s always genuine in wanting to hear more, especially the parts you tend to leave out.

“you got any funny stories about this one?” paul asks, flashing wanda a pointed smile. “something embarrassing, please.”

wanda huffs out a quiet laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. she has plenty. but as she glances between you and paul, there’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. some memories feel lighter than others. some carry more weight than she knows what to do with.

still, when she sees the way you’re watching her; curious, amused, trusting, she decides to tell it.

“oh, i’ve got one,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “back in college, we tried to break into the theatre department after hours. it wasn’t really breaking in, technically, the door was open, but we definitely weren’t supposed to be there. they had this whole wire rig set up for the upcoming peter pan production, and somebody—” she tilts her chin toward you “—thought it would be a great idea to try it out.”

paul turns to you, amused. “why am i not surprised?”

you groan, already bracing for the rest of the story. wanda smirks but continues, her voice softer now.

“so, there she was, strapped into this ridiculous harness, so sure she was about to soar across the stage like some theatrical prodigy. but the second she tried to lift off, the harness jammed, and instead of flying, she was just—”

“i was dangling there,” you chime in, groaning at the memory. “like some tragic shakespearean ghost.”

“and then, of course, security walks in,” she says, shaking her head. “and instead of, i don’t know, explaining, she panicked and yelled, ‘i have done the deed. didst thou not hear a noise?’”

paul bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his drink. “you did not.”

“she did,” wanda confirms, laughing softly. “the security guy just stood there for a second, like he was reconsidering every choice that led him to that moment, then sighed and said, ‘get down.’”

paul grins, shaking his head. “so, what happened next?”

“i had to help her out of the harness before we both got kicked out,” wanda says. “and then we ran. fast.” she pauses, her smile dimming just a little. “ended up at that all-night diner by campus instead. sat there for hours, drinking burnt coffee, still laughing about it.”

her voice drifts for a moment, lost in the memory. you swallow, feeling something heavy settle in your chest, but before the silence can stretch too long, you force out a small chuckle.

“i could’ve flown,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a little more time.”

wanda looks at you then, and there’s something in her gaze. something paul doesn’t quite catch, but you do.

“yeah,” she murmurs. “maybe you just needed more time.”

paul laughs again, unaware of the way wanda’s fingers tighten around her glass. “you two were absolute menaces, huh?”

and just like that, the moment passes. the air lightens again, and Wanda takes another sip of her wine. but the memory lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

“did she ever tell you that we watch some of your movies sometimes?” paul cuts in, his eyes bright with genuine curiosity. there’s an eager energy to him, the kind that makes it clear he isn’t just saying it to be polite—he actually wants to talk about her work.

wanda raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh?”

you offer a small, sheepish smile, and paul continues before you can respond.

“i mean, seriously,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “i’m already a pretty emotional guy, but your movies? they wreck me.”

wanda lets out a soft, amused laugh, her fingers absently tracing the stem of her wine glass. “that’s very kind of you to say.” she takes a slow sip before adding, almost offhandedly, “i guess i just have a thing for playing characters in distress.”

paul barks out a laugh at that, shaking his head. “yeah, well, you do it very well. it’s almost unfair.”

wanda smirks, but there’s something thoughtful in the way she tilts her head, as if considering his words. then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she leans in slightly and says, “i take it you’re a crier, then?”

paul places a hand over his chest in mock offense. “absolutely. no shame.”

that earns a more genuine laugh from wanda, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eases. the air between the three of you feels a little lighter.

when the plates are empty and the conversation slows, paul pushes back his chair with a contented sigh.

“i’ll start on the dishes,” he says, already stacking plates. “you two should catch up.”

you smile at him, appreciative, and wanda feels something twist in her chest. she shouldn’t be here. she doesn’t belong here.

still, she doesn’t move.

you refill your wine glass and lean back in your chair, watching her carefully. wanda swirls what’s left in her own glass, staring at the deep red before speaking.

“maybe i should’ve tried to convince you to run off with me,” she jokes, her voice light, almost teasing.

but when she finally looks up, she sees the way your expression falters, just for a second. you know, both of you do, that it isn’t really a joke.

you let out a small breath, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “that wouldn’t have changed anything, wanda.”

“wouldn’t it?” she asks, a little too quickly.

your eyes search hers, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the past is sitting between you, untouched, waiting.

wanda wonders if there’s a universe where you had run off together. if there’s a version of you out there, tangled up in her arms instead of in someone else’s.

she swallows hard. “i wish i had tried a little harder.”

your face softens, but it’s not enough to undo the distance between you. “you couldn’t help it,” you say, voice gentle.

"i could have," she insists, her hands gripping the stem of her glass a little too tightly. there’s frustration in her voice, but beneath it, there’s something raw. regret, maybe.

you don’t argue. you won’t. because the truth is, she could have.

"yeah," you admit, barely above a whisper. "maybe."

silence settles between you. wanda watches as your gaze shifts toward the window, toward the street where people pass by, oblivious to the ache sitting between you both.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. maybe some kind of reassurance that she still lingers in your mind the way you linger in hers. that if things had been different, if she had been different, this could have been her home, her life.

but you don’t give her that.

paul’s voice calls from the kitchen. “babe, where’s the dish soap?”

you blink, turning toward the sound, and the spell is broken.

wanda forces a smile, downing the last of her wine before standing. “i should get going.”

you don't question it.

you grab wanda’s coat from the rack and walk her to the door. she doesn’t ask you to, but neither of you are quite ready for the night to end without one last moment.

“leaving so soon?” paul asks suddenly, his voice light but tinged with something unreadable. both you and wanda turn to face him.

she nods apologetically, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “i have an early flight tomorrow,” she admits, offering a small, regretful smile.

“oh.” paul’s disappointment is subtle but there, it flickers in his eyes before he shapes his expression into something more polite. “well, it was really nice meeting you, wanda.”

you glance at him, catching the way he shifts slightly, rubbing his thumb over the inside of his palm. a small habit of his when he’s holding something back. you wonder, briefly, if tonight was difficult for him too, if he’s been carrying the weight of this evening the same way you have. you decide you’ll ask him about it later.

stepping forward, you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the way his jaw relaxes at the familiar gesture. his hand finds yours easily, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“i’m just gonna walk her out,” you murmur, giving his hand a small squeeze.

paul nods, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he offers wanda another polite smile. “safe travels,” he says, his voice kind, sincere.

as you lead wanda toward the door, you feel the weight of paul’s gaze lingering on you, as if he knows that this goodbye is heavier than it appears.

the air outside is crisp, carrying the distant hum of the city. wanda stands beside you on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of her coat. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a second, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of something you’ll never get back.

her uber is a few minutes away. that’s all the time you have left.

she exhales softly, eyes fixed on the passing cars. then, as if she’s been holding it in all night, she finally asks, “do you think we could have worked things out? if we had been different people? under different circumstances?”

the question hits you. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because the truth is, you don’t know.

maybe in another life. maybe in a world where you didn’t leave the hotel before she could see you, where you both didn’t have to love each other from a distance, where you didn’t have to wonder if loving her meant waiting for something that wasn’t enough.

but this isn’t that world.

you swallow hard, staring down at the pavement. “i don’t know, wanda.”

she nods, as if she expected that answer, but the sadness in her eyes deepens anyway. “me neither.”

the uber pulls up, headlights cutting through the night, and you both turn toward it. this is it. the real goodbye.

wanda hesitates, then reaches for you, pulling you into one last embrace. you don’t know who’s holding onto who tighter. when she pulls away, her hand lingers on your arm for a second too long before she finally steps back.

“take care of yourself,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

you give her a tight-lipped smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you too, wanda.”

she slides into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, you stand frozen on the sidewalk, watching until the taillights disappear around the corner.

and then it hits you.

the weight of it all crashes down at once. the grief, the finality, the understanding that there are some lives you’ll never get to live, some love stories that will never get their second chance.

you press a hand to your mouth as your chest tightens, eyes stinging, but you force yourself to turn back toward the building before you fall apart completely.

when you step into the lobby, you’re not surprised to see paul waiting by the elevator. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to.

the moment you reach him, you break.

a choked sob escapes you as you fall into his arms, and he holds you without hesitation, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple. and you believe him.

because this was never about leaving him.

you love paul. you’ve never questioned that.

but love doesn’t erase the what-ifs. it doesn’t quiet the ache of knowing there’s a version of you out there who loved wanda differently, who had a life that was beautiful in its own way. one that you’ll never get to live.

paul presses a kiss to your hair and just holds you, letting you mourn what could have been.

and when you’re finally ready, he walks you up.

[bcolfanfic]

rolling ’round the bend

the john brady blue ticket fic

Johnny pressed his hands hard against his face like he could shove it all back in, but the effort was fruitless. The first sob tore out of him soundlessly, his chest caving inward, his shoulders trembling under the weight of it. Then another, harder, a raw, gasping thing that wouldn’t stop.

He wanted his mama. Wanted his sister. Wanted Benny. Wanted to be in a fort above all this, in the belly of something steady. If Bec was here he’d tell him he had an answer to his question now. 

He’d take the Stalag. At least that was honorable.

-

John Brady and Benny Demarco*** after the war, and some change.

***and Marjorie Spencer

part 1/3 - 13k

pinterest board / playlist

authors note: thank you thank thank you to everyone who has been so patient w me while waiting for this, listened to me yap about it and read my snippets. while obviously this story is fictional it is based in the reality of so many 1000s of service men and women who were treated viscously by a country they were willing to die for. may their memory be a blessing. ❤️‍🩹

[des-no9]

I already posted all this on bsky so I'm just pasting what I wrote in a frenzy in bed without my glasses on here again about, of course, Kith'rak Voss, for everyone to nod and go "yes we already knew this Des thank you very much" (you're all so patient dfjkdkfd)

---

Everyone who knows me knows I adore Kith'rak Voss with my all. I don't even really know where to start. We don't know a huge amount about him, but what we do know, the things we see and can understand from what we learn makes me love him so deeply.

From the first meeting on the bridge. After that entrance of fire and murder, a display of power and purpose, you have a chance to find out he's not being entirely truthful there and then about where he flies off to. But still he's willing to sacrifice his people to his cause, it's all that matters. All that's ever mattered.

The way he talks to you while (as far as you know) is still the jhe'stil kith'rak Voss, Vlaakith's Silver, is so confident, powerful, and almost an assessment of you, Lae'zel, both of your companions, the bearers of the Prism - his everything.

Then later if you have a camp visit, he's so deeply earnest.

Like, this ancient, so unbelievably ancient and powerful githyanki knight is kneeling before you, presenting his personal, equally ancient sword at your feet in a gesture of submission to listen to him, hear his plea and gain his trust. It just moved me so much. You could feel how much it all meant to him there. And then when you have the knowledge of who is in the Prism and you're replaying and hear his words and see his expressions when he's talking again and it all clicks…feels. The devotion in him? Aughhh.

Then when you meet him again in Act 3. Desperation.

He's wounded, aching, keeping loyalists off your tail. Everything is so close to his reach, but so far. It's all in the hands of an istik, a child (to him), an unknown, a vin'isk, and he has no choice but to trust. Wait. Hope. Hope and wait. This man has waited millenia. He waits more.

Also I just love how upfront he is with you. He's blunt. Confident. And will do anything for his people's and Orpheus' freedom.

Then when he meets Orpheus again, oh the joy and the love 😭💜 god you can see it their faces. I just… he's the loyal, devoted attack dog to my Prince who will do anything to protect him, to get him and our freedom back. That devotion and loyalty is a huge motivator for the narrative of his relationship developing with Vanquish. She's a necessity and need. Something he has to trust in.

But becomes everything he wants.

Also he's OLD and WRINKLY and SCARRED and has silly hair and is long and lanky and is a jhe'stil kith'rak with a dragon he's been bonded with for millenia, and he's raided and done so much awful shit (HOT) and is so morally fucked I love him I love him I love him so fucking much.

BG3 Positivity - Tell me about your favourite!

Tell me something you love about your favourite Baldur's Gate 3 character! Tell me lots if you like! Bonus points for: - NPCs and lesser known characters - Villains - Characters many people hate

IMPORTANT RULES:

- No negative talk about any character - Be kind about others' likes!

I really want to see what people like most about their favourites, but I am going to be strict on that rule - if you don't like a character, and/or don't agree with someone's take, that's fine! But just keep that comment on the inside, let's be nice and share joy, support enthusiasm, and have fun!

[unspuncreature]

just a little ahsoka doodle from a bit ago <3

—

art tag | art log | links

[koroart]

Semester is almost over so I'll FINALLY be able to tackle my commissions that are in the queue 😭

[officialsporkintheroad]

Some Ao3 Commenters: "I can't believe this fic has been abandoned. So sad. Sometimes, it's almost like I can still hear the author's voice..."

Me, who hasn't updated in 10 months but still working on the next chapter nonetheless: "STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD!!!"

[sunlessea]

he supposes it doesn't think him the type for such serious reminiscing. how it would have gawked in awe, had it ever met him in his days as a helsing pup proper - such a noble heir he'd once been, with his head held high on his shoulder, presenting himself above everyone around him, most of all masters like itself. he's thankful it hadn't, though. he's not sure he ever could've looked at it with such kindness as he does now, in his time as cassius ashburnum. it never would have trusted him again, had it been irons he had fought that day he burned the bazaar down, rather than mr fires. now, he can rest his hands at either side of its neck and it does not seem to even consider the possibly that he would wrap them around its neck.

the thought had been there, when they'd first begun interacting. it had assumed this a ploy of some sort, to hunt it, surely. in this position, he could kill it, if he tried. catch it by some manner of surprise, and finish a job long forgotten. it trusts him, he notes, as he gently strokes his thumb along its jawline. its ears are flat 'gainst its head, claws gentle alone his sides ... as much as they can be, from a beast not accustomed to playing so nice.

"i believe that you trust me, and i don't think you could trust me if you didn't love me. but i also believe that if someone is incapable of telling another person their feelings out loud ... then they don't love them enough." his answer is honest, where he has not always been. his hands lower from its shoulders again to gently tug at some of the fabric its bundled in, layer upon layer of cloaks. they were already falling off as it had been, but now he parts some of them further. it is only enough, in the end, to expose some small section of its chest - enough that he may slip his hand underneath and sprawl his palm open over the lacking beat of its heart. there's no gentle thrum inside of it, like his own, no candle lit for mr irons to feign its humanity.

he wonders, yet doesn't ask. maybe it's never had very much reason to wish for human things : a heartbeat, air, passion, pleasure, love, tears, raw emotion. just like him, in an age long past. but he desires now, more than anything. enough for both of them, how his heart races, his cheeks flush, his eyes water.

but maybe it isn't so far off.

"how fondly? in what ways do you think of me? fondly enough that you want to kiss me, but not so that you will tell me that you love me. you don't know your own heart, do you? you didn't even know you had one." he is patient, even when he isn't. his own ears flatten, his expression both lonesome and yearning in his understanding. he would wait forever ... but watching the pieces slowly fall into place makes his heart ache. he wants it to love him so badly. he wants it to want him, too. "you say carnality, i just call it romance. i'm used to being misunderstood, but i want you to understand me. as a poet of veilgarden, i've turned down countless men and women in this city who sought carnal pleasure. i can't let someone touch me who doesn't love me. i just can't. my heart is my body and if anyone ever took advantage of my heart, i would kill myself."

his dramatics do not end with everyday banter or vivacious teases - but even through flowery self deprecation, he is so very serious. its hands on his hips stabilize him, however, giving him something to focus on so he doesn't lose himself in romantic reverie. by time he is done with its cloaks, the last bits of them only cling to irons' arms, and that is not something he can push off on his own. so he stares down at it, fingers tracing lines of its muscles once more. his expression is far away, distant, but not sad. he's lost in thought, paying mind to every spot that makes it shudder when his fingers move over them. it's more sensitive than he'd thought.

it grabs his attention again when it speaks, and he looks up at it with wide, doe - like eyes, curious and contemplative. before it even clarifies the heavy burden it offers him, he's taken by it, his tail swaying gently behind him with expectation. the more secure it squeezes his hips as it lifts itself to sit with him on its lap, the faster his tail starts to wag, ears at last perking up once more. for how seriously he'd worn his melancholy, his expression melts easily into tender reverence, smile 'pon his lips with narrowed eyes as their noses touch. he shifts with it, raising his arms up to wrap 'round its shoulders and pull it in closer so they can sit comfortably face - to - face. "you are not a burden, mr irons. your heart is a gift."

maybe he should've expected it to kiss him, how it had been shifting to close the space 'tween them again ... but he is still a little surprised, all the same. the second time it less brutal than the first, and as a result, less awkward - the harsh press of its lips 'gainst his own is much less feral, though still quite rough. it's charming, in a way. he thinks this is its attempt at kindness, and he does not tease it for that. he falls into line, pulling it down harder by its shoulders and letting it part his lips against its once more, 'til its tongue finds his own. he's able to shift in its lap until his legs comfortably rest at its sides, knees pressing into its thighs as his fingers tangle through its hair. its need is met by his own passion, a loving romantic at his core, even in the depths of spiraling desire, albeit of a purer context than his admissions of fantasy would suggest.

humanity is hardly so simple for those born inhuman. to neatly box the wild and often inconsistent flux of its feelings into something kine could comprehend, to balance learned nature with its basal instinct—its love resulting comes intertwined with a certain hunger. and that is difficult to explain, more than just a comfortable warmth against its chest, more than excitement, or an ache in its stomach, it is, above all else, an intense and indomitable craving. it feels it 'cross every inch of its body, inside and out, with every kiss he steals and how earnestly he wraps himself around it.

the way he touches it drives it absolutely mad, in a way it is not wholly certain that it actually minds : it is naught like anything it, personally, had it proffer a more accurate definition, fantasized, and it thinks it might then be the surprise of it that leaves it feeling so willfully captured. his fingers tracing 'gainst subtle ripples of muscle and skin follow a trail so delightfully sensitive in ways it could never have expected, untouched as it had been in its self-imposed isolation. it likes the warmth it feels 'neath his palms, against his body, his breath against its lips the few moments their lips part and how it feels his breathing quiver with each slow, arduous draw of its tongue over the wound begged-open 'neath its teeth; it likes how he always beckons it closer with his blood still on its tongue, deepening their kiss with venture of his own will. it likes how its body cannot decide, in continued conflict of its own heart, if it should purr or growl, and how often it alternates 'tween both muffled by his lips.

not to say that it is without surprise when his body shifts. though it is, perhaps, more muted a shock than t'would otherwise be, were he any other. and it may as well be purely for the lack of force, rather than strength—it feels when his leg hooks even tighter 'cross its back, the subtle pressure of his heel pressing into its side, but this too feels more like he is simply beckoning it follow his lead. and that is the bigger surprise, how simply it relents.

this, yes, has it growl. but that is merely natural response for any predator proper pushed to such a vulnerable point. even fully clothed, having rolled gently 'pon its back with his encouragement, it feels so exposed laying beneath him! it mourns the taste of him, same as the pressure of his lips, but it is stalled in its own personal languishing by how sternly he seems look back at it—it can't recall a moment he's ever been so, even when they'd first met. and that, more than anything, piques its interest and begs its attention.

better would it be the sort of blushing maiden with heat rushing to flood her cheeks at such a thought, than how stone-faced it is in their reality. there is no pretty poetry to weave how it stares up at him, wide-eyed and ears slowly pressing 'gainst its head for cause of ... not embarrassment, quite, but something like— it has heard far cruder things, years passed before they ever crossed paths, but it thinks it is his clarification most that his its chest constrict, fang pulling the soft flesh of its cheek 'neath to chew as it tries to pretend it is not quite so affected as it most certainly is. it is not shy, but it is not ... this particularly brazen, either. he definitely is special.

" do you believe i love you? " its voice feels particularly hoarse, even to it : and it presumes it is only cause for how often it was stolen in their heated exchange, every gasp or moan or plea stifled by each their eager tongues. but even so, its tone is cautious; careful, where what little inflection it is able to offer cannot otherwise be misconstrued for rejection. its chest aches too, feeling how his hands continue making their way 'cross its skin, the bulk of its body, but that nagging pull has grown increasingly familiar in the passing weeks. it considers itself lucky merely only shuddering when his fingers brush over dips along its body that are more sensitive than most. the tension ebbs and flows, but its fixation 'pon him is unwavering.

it thinks its gaze shakes while he speaks, rapt, a subtle quiver align with the occasional shiver that runs its way through its body. it's a far different tone than how he has ever approached it—and yet, it is somehow just the same. desire spoken from the heart, a romantic at his core, no matter how salacious the tale he could weave, he hardly need speak of the love he feels for it for it to comprehend. it hurts when it swallows, 'round the growing lump in its throat.

" it ... is true, the subjects of which my thoughts have drifted to. i have thought about what it might have been like to kiss you more than i am open to admit. though i do— ... did not understand the process. i desired to. i do think of you fondly. in numerous ways, and that is strange to me. " like would he be to forgive it, its quiet voice; barely above murmur, that, as it gradually takes to unraveling its hold 'round his waist, slowly pulling its hands down over his hips as it speaks, " i would never think less of you for carnality. i think you are naive, at your best, but physicality or need for is hardly my concern. i do not understand you, or what you have done to me. of that, i feel as if i no longer know myself. "

his hair tickles its cheek, its jaw; shrouds them where what few parts of its cloaks still cling to it offer little protection from the intensity of his gaze. " it is a heavy burden to ask of you, elysium, but ... " it starts, but pauses soon after; its hands have settled neatly over his hips, and though it does squeeze them long enough to beckon even more of his attention, it uses its tight grip as means to steady itself as it lifts itself up to brush its nose up 'gainst his own. once more, merely a breath apart—and it really does savor the feeling, nearly more than the blood it still knows clings to his lips. and its too, though it's quick to swipe that away as it pulls itself closer to him. hands travelling slow from hip to side, pressing down gently 'long the slight curve of his waist. " —perhaps you might be willing to bring clarity to my own heart? " it has not suddenly become anymore confident in the gesture as it had started. but it is difficult to be too clumsy, this close. no sooner has it finished speaking before it closes the distance; and once more, it pushes its lips hard against his own. not in curiosity, or even impulse : it needs him.

[elizakai]

do you guys ever have multiple projects or tasks you need to finish and have been putting off but the demotivation/depressive wave hits like a truck whenever you think about it? so you either can’t work on anything else out of stress, or you work on everything else out of a need to justify your own inability to do the original task?

ANYONE??? SOBBBBBB

[bun-fish]

it's summer and I got nothing to do...

some Cardinal Danno coming soon :)

kickass mask design credit goes to beloved author @noir-renard

color version: weeeeewoowee

[iniziare]

do you write?

Mel semi-dared me to type: “No, leave me alone.” So I have to include it. But in all seriousness, I'll respond this once, because it does allow me to update people a little bit. Though please know that your notification did have me pause mid-writing. Now, I want to politely, and respectfully direct you to my description on both dash-only and on my blog's theme, I also want to point your attention to my pinned post, and I believe that it's even in my rules, but I could be wrong. Though let me repeat it here:

The depictions you'll find here are canon-strict, and so you can expect many analyses of all kinds here, as dissecting the characters that I write is what I'm passionate about, and what I'm here for (and to write, of course!)

I admit, usually I aim to write more threads/asks consistently even if I'm excessively slow, and though I haven't updated the dash about my circumstances for a while (as I'm decently private about my life), know that writing meta has simply come a lot easier lately when time has permitted me to be on Tumblr. Now, that doesn't mean I don't value people's interest in writing with me, and I will live up to the promises that I've made that I will get to that (as I have occasionally done lately, and was in process of doing again)— but when meta comes easier to me, then I prioritize that as of late, simply because stress' best counter is the distraction that comes the easiest. Now this isn't by any means a waste of time, as it plays into what I quoted above. Because ultimately, here's my thing: I make it exceptionally clear everywhere on my blog that I am canon-strict (or as Tumblr, sadly, disrespectfully seems to call it nowadays: a 'lore purist'), and that this leads me to write a lot of analyses left and right on the characters that I write, but these are fundamental to understanding my portrayals of them. If that isn't your cup of tea, sir, or ma'am, then maybe this isn't the blog for you, and I don't mean that with malice, or in disrespect, but simply as a simple rebuke. In that, I greatly appreciate you checking in on behalf of my writing partners, but I'm also quite certain that they have the capacity to approach me themselves if they have any concerns. Have a nice day or night, wherever you are!

[waifujuju]

OKAY I'm finally able to work on my commission sheet, should be ready and posted with updated prices and examples next week!!!

[kakusu-shipping]

Last year I started this huge project of redrawing a bunch of my Self Inserts in my more plump body style, a few of which I posted sporadically as I made them. The plan was to full a whole page with all my old S/Is and then full color all of them and post them all together.

I recently picked that project back up and added a few more S/Is but.. The longer I look at my massive canvas the less motivated I am to color it and then the less motivated I am to do other art

So! Here's the clean sketches for all the ones who go together, the rest I'll be posting as before, just random bunches of unrelated S/Is, uncolored until someone asks about them.

[allylikethecat]

Chapters: 16/22 Fandom: The 1975 (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy Characters: George Daniel, Matthew Healy, Adam Hann, Ross MacDonald, Carly Holt Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Fertility Issues Summary:

He couldn’t be in heat. He couldn’t remember what he even was supposed to do if he was in heat. But he couldn’t be. It had been nine years, all of the blood tests, all of the wait and seeing, all the hormone shots had yielded the same results. He didn’t have a heat cycle anymore, and he would never have one again. He had damaged his body beyond repair.

Except apparently not because he was dripping more slick than he had produced even as a horny teenager and his uterus was screaming at him that it wanted a baby and he just felt so nauseous and empty and-

[xfindingtrouble]

magically projects bpd onto percy

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

(Context: I am Level 1 autistic and sometimes experience verbal shutdowns)

Things I appreciate someone doing if I’m upset and cannot talk:

- only asking one question at a time

- asking yes/no or binary questions instead of vague ones (Ex: “do you need space?” instead of “what do you need?”)

- being okay with not receiving an answer at all, and moving on (or rephrasing questions if necessary)

- accepting gesture, sign language, and/or AAC without pointing it out as unusual or joking about it

- offering comfort items or distractions, and allowing me to choose whether or not to use them myself

- treating me with respect and not talking down to me; there is a difference between being gentle and treating me like a child

- not assuming that I will regain speech as soon as I feel better

- letting me joke around and participate in conversations without speaking, even when I look happy and calm

- choosing communal activities that are low-key and don’t rely on verbal speech, such as watching a show, painting, or looking at memes together

- understanding if I need space, and leaving me be if I walk away from a conversation or leave suddenly

- letting me use comfort items and stim, even if it looks weird to you

- understanding that saying words =/= having full speech again; I usually regain echolalia before being able to generate my own sentences

[impeccablebackside]

It is in the way she moves that never fails to strike him. The fluidity and grace of a being who may as well be an angel sent down from the loftiest of havens to showcase what real beauty truly looks like. The white fur that is so pure it makes her look like she is perpetually shining in sunlight. The exquisite deep blue eyes that sparkle like precious gems. The hints of pink that adorn her nose and soft lips so elegantly. The way she smiles so sweetly that it could soothe any and all pain in an instant. To him, there is no chance she is anything but the most special heaven-sent gift.

It often felt like his soul had constantly searched to find her in all of his past lives, drawn to the warm light of her aura that shone like the brightest of beacons. He never knew if he had ever been successful, cats very rarely retained any tangible memory of what had preceded, so he always considered that this life must be the most rewarding of all. It had to be. That gift from the Everlasting Cat themselves was somehow his, and he never knew how to properly thank whatever force led him to her. If he could, he would beg for them to let him live the rest of his lives by her side, even if it means that this could be his last one.

Both cats are taking in a beautiful night outside of their shared den. It is situated just off of the main communal clearing in the junkyard, a quaint alcove surrounded by broken down appliances. It was gift of sorts bestowed to Plato once he finished his training, previously left vacant when another Jellicle was chosen to go to the Heaviside Layer.

It did not start out as much, with a few old and dilapidated cushions strewn out for him to sleep, but now it was smartly furnished with a large catbed and other little touches courtesy of Victoria, unbeknownst to her owners. She had made his spot a home rather than another place to rest his head, and on particularly hard or tiring days when his queen was not around, he would collapse into the bed and rub his head in to catch a trace of her scent to calm himself. As a way to thank her, he had worked diligently to clean up the outside area of the den, moving away bits of trash and weeds so that she had a semi-private space to practice her ballet routines in peace. Even a discarded bed rail was made to be a makeshift barre. It was selfless but purposeful, with the figurative renovations affording Plato his own spot to watch her as a devoted audience.

In a quiet moment like this, silently watching Victoria as she danced in the moonlight, Plato is again reminded of how lucky he is. From a rough life of fear having to survive on his own after being abandoned as a young tom, to now being in the midst of gentle tranquility amongst the welcoming community of the junkyard as a respected protector, it was a change that he rarely felt worthy of. Particularly when he saw the white queen at his side. When he had first laid eyes on her, it did not feel real, almost as if he had been reborn right then and there into a better life.

Time seemed to stop when he gazed at her, and he was always thankful for that. Thankful to be able to fill as many fleeting moments as possible with a sense of happiness that he wished for everyone to know. Thankful for how she unintentionally gave him a reason to be appreciative of every single day of his life since they first met.

Perhaps most self-serving though, he was also thankful for just how hot his queen is. The lithe shape of her body, strong but incredibly delicate, has always entranced him in a way he has yet to properly comprehend. Her round ass is something that he could never tire of either. Neither is her tight pussy that he has dreamt of everyday after first fucking her. The way she shows herself off with such a muted beauty when she chose to dance has always made the tom particularly hungry for her, and this evening was no exception. Seeing her flaunt herself in quiet confidence and surety always makes his lust burn wildly. She is in command of the world around her, the center of worthy attention, and he finds that side of her absolutely enthralling.

Not merely satisfied with sitting back and observing Victoria any longer, Plato sneaks up behind her.

"You know, I think you may have under rotated on that last spin Vic," he teases as his paws drape themselves along her shoulders. Standing closely, the tom towers over the white queen, enveloping her as she stands facing toward the side of an oven that acts as a mirror-like backdrop for her barre.

"Oh, is that so? I'd like to see my big lumbering tom do better. What do you think Plato? Do you want to show me how it's done?" she teases back. Victoria brings a paw to meet the one on her left shoulder, gently sliding her smaller fingers to interlock with Plato's as she peers up at him.

The tom brings his arms around her, hugging her smaller frame while humming lowly, "Nah. I don't want to show you up. Besides, I have to keep my body rested for patrol tomorrow." He tightens his hold, pleased with how soft and warm she always is on his fur. They stay cuddled together for a few lengthy seconds, appreciating the other's company. As she quietly sighs, content with being held, Plato lays a couple of kisses against Victoria’s neck. A shiver runs through her body, a reaction at his little advances, and it encourages him onward.

"Actually, you know what? Maybe I could expend a little energy right now. Have I ever told you how beautiful you are when you dance?"

"All the time, but you know I love hearing it. It gives me confidence knowing you are out there cheering me on." The queen smiles to herself, knowingly awaiting more from her tom.

"Not just beautiful Vic," he trails before closing the gap between them, pressing himself against her back, "Really hot too."

The queen lets out a quiet whine as he squeezes her harder, pushing her forward against the wall, effectively pinning her in. Her breathing sharpens and her heart starts to race as she finds herself all the sudden at his mercy.

"Plato, stop it. Someone is going to see or hear us!"

"Then you are just going to have to be quiet. Hmm?"

An arm sweeps across her chest, paw playing with her nipple. Within moments, another is grabbing hard at her ass. Victoria lets out a hushed moan, a confirmation of sorts, as she lets her tom take control.

"Beg for me," he softly growls into her ear. The way he says it is meant to be more playful, but he cannot hide the want coursing through his body. Not waiting for a response, Plato increases his efforts. One paw remains across her chest, now bracing her body against his own as the other paw rubs at her ass and thighs. When his paw starts pushing itself between the inside of her thighs from behind, brushing at the soft fur, Victoria cannot help but whine needlingly in anticipation as she quickly becomes desperate for her lover to pleasure her. The tom is careful with his moves though, slowly moving inward and forward in an almost teasing manner as he steadily moves higher up her legs. With him rubbing close to her center but not meeting it, Victoria heartedly pushes her legs together in an attempt to get some friction to ease the need in her.

“Please Plato, please. I promise I’ll be quiet,” she whispers, unable to focus. He is rarely so forward, and it is turning her on to be the object of his intense desire.

Plato does not have it in him to be cruel to her for long though, and the white queen is rewarded in moments. The tom runs his paw between her thighs again, rubbing against her pussy in heavier passes as she starts to squirm. It is so soft and squishy against his rougher paws, and he immensely enjoys the feeling. He keeps a divine pressure as he continues, delighting in the moans of his white queen.

“Oh god, that’s it. More, more!” Victoria cries, clearly more pent up for all of this than Plato would have thought. It only encourages him more to hear her whimper for him.

Sliding a finger between the lips of her pussy, Plato holds his smaller queen upright as she frantically tries to bend over to allow him better access to fingering her. He denies her for now, even though his mind is screaming for him to just give her whatever she asks for. Yeilding some willpower and relenting a bit, he starts to slip a finger into her wet pussy as she happily whines in relief, but the tom only goes about halfway. Pumping it in and out in small movements, he can feel her tense up as the pleasure builds. Plato pushes a second finger into her warm heat, again only going halfway. His white queen’s pussy is so tight, he cannot go any further in this position, but he is content with feeling her clench around him. The sharper breaths from Victoria are a symphony to his ears, and he quickens his pacing.

“Oh, fuck, please give it to me! Goddamn, I just need it so badly!” she yelps between moans.

“You know, I sort of like when you plead like this. Maybe I should slow down?” he muses as he smiles into her headfur.

“If you slow down Plato, I swear to Bast the only paws that will be touching you for the next month will be your own!” she bites back quickly. “Now, play nice. I know not so deep down you’re holding back.”

With a small laugh under his breath, Plato continues at the same speed, but not for long. Loosening his hold, he brings his arm down from her chest and pries her legs open with a forceful pull on the inside of her thigh as the other arm comes around from behind to rub at her heat again. Sinking his two fingers deep into her pussy now, the tom fills her up. He waits a moment for her to adjust to the stretch before jerking his wrist into a rhythm that makes her squeal in pleasure.

“Fuck, yes. You’re always so good to me when you listen, but please, more!” she cries.

Victoria cannot help but try again to move her hips for better contact, the pleasure becoming more than what she was wishing for, but she is stopped again by her larger tom pinning her in place. As her moans get louder and louder, Plato covers her mouth with his paw, her wetness still coating his fingers.

“Shh now, Vic!”

The tom pulls her head back so she is looking up at him, fucking her still with his other paw. There is an agony in the way her blue eyes beg for more as their gazes meet, and she wordlessly pleads for him to finish her off. He curls his fingers into her pussy, going faster as her back arches into his.

“I got you Vic, I promise,” he says softly before kissing her forehead. “Just hold on now.”

Plato pulls his fingers out and spreads her lips apart, roughly rubbing at her clit with his thumb. The white queen shakes against his body at the new waves of pleasure, but the tom stays with her, following her quivering as he relentlessly stays rubbing and rubbing at her most sensitive spot. Plunging his fingers in again, he fucks her hard, pressing his palm against her pussy and clit. Within a few seconds Victoria is falling apart, her whole body trembling in Plato’s arms. Muffled by her tom’s paw, she screams as much as she can before biting down on his finger to quiet herself. Weakly, she slumps against his body as he languidly stays fingering her down from her orgasm. The white queen’s legs twitch with each push of his fingers, and eventually Plato eases off when his love’s breathing starts to return to normal.

“Oh my goodness, that was fabulous, but uh…,” Victoria trails off between gasps, “Maybe this isn’t really a good spot Plato, don’t you think? I feel so exposed. What if Munk saw us? He would have a conniption knowing we were like this out in the open!” She turns to face Plato, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder as an informal thank you.

“Oh, whatever,” he waves off. “He’s not innocent, trust me. Would you believe me if I said I once found him crouched down eating out Demeter when he was supposed to be on patrol?”

“Oh wow, really? Did you say anything?”

“Oh Bast, of course not! I would never be able to look him in the eyes if he knew I knew!”

“So, what did you do?”

“Uhhh…. well. Maybe I got something out of it too,” the tom confesses as he starts blushing.

With a playful swat at his chest, Vic giggles up at him as she waves her eyebrows.

“Oh c’mon! It was hot!” he digs in, not sure why he even said anything to begin with.

“I guess you guys see all kinds of stuff while out and about, wouldn’t you? Probably for the better that we make our little retreat then in case of wayward eyes,” she says coyly. “Assuming you aren’t done yet that is?”

With a wink, Plato grabs the smaller queen around her waist with both paws, and tosses her up over his shoulder as she squeals in excitement. “Nah, just getting started,” he jokes as he slaps her ass lightly before bracing her down with an arm. “Now, where were we?”

Victoria kicks her legs gleefully, powerless in such a position. With another ass slap, the white queen giggles uncontrollably, delighted when Plato literally flexes his muscles and makes her feel so light. The tom carries her across the small clearing in front of their den before ducking down through the doorway and out of the public eye. Standing at the entryway, the tom brings his free paw up and grabs her ass hard to a squeak from his love. “Everlasting, do I love… this so much,” he says as he caresses her backside. No matter how many times he gets to see it and play with it, Victoria’s round ass never fails to make him smile. “Oooooh it is so fun to hold! So soft you know.” Plato cups one asscheek, and then the other, slapping them enough so that they jiggle beside his ear over and over again.

Victoria claws at his back as he gets more spirited with his near worship, finding herself yet again at his full mercy and appreciation. Her tom never fails to let her know exactly what he cherishes so much about her, and the praise makes her feel truly special. “Oh ya? I know you love it so, so much, but what about this?” She wiggles her hips, making her ass shake on its own. “Or maybe... this?” Victoria tries as hard as she can to grind her hips into his shoulder, but it ends up being more of an awkward flailing in his arms. “Well, maybe not that then,” she says defeatedly.

“Or, how about this?” Plato interjects. He pulls her thighs apart as best as he can and fingers her once again as she moans, pulling out to lick the taste of her from his fingertips before starting again.

“Oooh yeah. That is better, but what else do you have?”

“I guess we’ll both see together. Hold on now, let me put you down.”

Plato carries her forward to the edge of their shared bed, and places her down softly onto her back. The white queen settles into the bed, and sprawls herself out. Standing above her, Plato is in awe of just how beautiful she is, staring intently at her whole physique like she is the greatest of artworks. For all he has seen, she is. Everlasting do those strong legs always look so great. The tom crouches down slightly and grabs a hold of her ankles. “Vic, do you want know what else I love? These.” He starts massaging her gently, slowly from her feet, up her legs like it is an act of dutiful reverence to her. At a point, Plato pulls her closer to him, raising her legs up so that he can massage at her thighs while they rest against his pelvis. When his big paws wrap around them, Victoria cannot help but whimper a bit as she gets more aroused.

“You know, I have always wanted to try something.” Without elaborating, he spits in his paw and jerks his cock to get it wet and hard. Pressing her legs together, he grunts as he thrusts between her soft thighs, essentially fucking them.

“Fuck, your fur feels so good. This is actually amazing.” He goes faster, huffing with each push of his hips as his cock pokes out from between her thighs with each thrust.

The look of enjoyment on his face tells Victoria that he is being genuine, but she is admittedly caught off-guard by this. Having every inch of her lusted after so unabashedly is never taken for granted though, and she has something in mind for him too.

Interrupting him after only a minute or so, she coos, “My love?”. The tom stops in an instant, listening intently as he gazes into her eyes. “That looks fun and all, but would you mind if I tried something instead? Something we both can join in on?”

“Oh god, absolutely. Whatever you want.” Plato’s heart beats in his chest. Neither of them are terribly adventurous, with new things coming very infrequently, so his love offering more is like a gift from the divine.

She brings her fluffy tail to brush along Plato's thighs before wrapping and unwrapping her tail gently around his length as it gets starts getting hard, giggling at the tense faces he is making.

"I cannot tell if you are enjoying this of hating it Plato! What's with the looks?"

"Ugh, its feels good Vic do not get me wrong, but you know how much I hate being tickled! I am just trying to keep it together!"

"Oh yup, whoops. Didn't think of that."

With a little grin, she lets her tail drop down before sliding herself back on the bed, just until her back paws reach the edge. Victoria lifts her right leg up and runs a toe down from Plato's chest, along his abdomen and pelvis with a light touch until she reaches his cock. She brushes a toe along its flaccid length, which gets another aroused jolt. Popping up to meet her back paw, she gives another run along the length of his cock, before bringing her paws together to sandwich it, playfully flopping his dick around while it is still mostly soft.

"How's that? Hmm?"

"Oh Everlasting Vic. Do you know how long I've been hoping for this? I don’t have a thing for paws, but damn those pads are so fleshy and soft! Show me what you got, please!"

Rolling it between her feet and giving it a few small tugs, the white queen gets Plato's cock hard before properly starting up her efforts. The feeling of her paws pumping up and down like that is a bit unusual for him, but there is a pleasant roughness and looseness to it. She switches up her method, alternating rubbing each foot along the side of his shaft while the other holds it in place. When desperate moans escape her tom's mouth as the pleasure builds, Victoria brings a foot to the head of his cock, grasping at it with her pink paw pads. Jerking his hips into her touch, the way she moves her toes and the pressure from them is revelatory. Sliding her foot along the top in little circles, he is at her mercy.

"Oh god that feels so fuckin' good. Those paws aren't just for dancing, and damn you are surprisingly good at this." The tom is astonished at her technique, enjoying every little move she makes.

Victoria works to edge her partner, never quite bringing him to his release. The way he shifts and gasps under her control is too fun and cute for her to end so soon, so she backs off and slows down when she thinks he is close, giggling at his desperation. However, the excitement of all of this is getting to her, and with a free paw, Victoria dips down to her pussy and starts rubbing the outside in tight circles. Within moments, she is even more wet, and starts fucking herself with her fingers while keeping rhythm with her feet. Little moans and lidded eyes carry her through each rush of pleasure, and the pacing increases as she gets lost in the pleasure rippling through her body.

"Oh fuck, why don't you beg for me Plato? You know, I really need to feel you inside me soon," she cries, clearly needy for more. "That cock is mine and I just want it so bad."

Almost like a race between her legs and arms, something is going to reach an ending point in all of this. Victoria's words bounce through Plato's empty head, and his resolve wanes as he chases the bliss of his queen's soft paws, fucking into her feet while Victoria still jerks him. Another toe grab around the tip is what breaks the tom, and he shoots off in large bursts, cumming into the air, all over her paws and ankles, and onto her chest with a groan as she watches on.

"Oh wow, someone liked that a lot."

"Fucking hell. Is there any part of you that is not perfect Vic?" He looks at her with an adoration unmatched by anyone. "Seriously? Goddamn. You can ruin me with either set of paws like its nothing!"

"Oh well, you talk too sweetly my love. Why don't you show me what other parts of me are perfect?" she says, spreading her pussy open with her fingers as a way to tease him.

Even though he just came, Plato is hard again at the greatest temptation he knows.

Not needing an answer, Victoria stops what she is doing and grabs her legs, pulling them up underneath her knees. She gleefully kicks her feet, admiring the cum covering her paws and ankles. With impressive flexibility, she brings her left leg up and begins to lick the cum off, eyeing Plato the entire time as she cleans herself. Moments later, she does the same with her other leg, pausing for a second to show off her tight pink pussy and asshole.

"You know, I have a dance routine that I want to practice later," she muses, trailing off in sultry manner as she rubs her paws over her ankles while maintaining eye contact. Without delay, the white queen pulls her legs up by the ankles, raising them up by her ears as she bends herself in half, "Why don't you help me stretch beforehand?"

"I-I'd love to," the tom stutters, licking his lips without realizing it. The way her pussy is on such a breathtaking display in this position weakens him.

"Well then, what do you think about this to start?" Victoria spreads her legs widely apart into a horizontal splits, completely opening herself up to his hungry gaze. Even with her legs extended out fully, her pussy is so tight that it only opens up the slightest bit at the stretch.

The tom drops to his knees and cradles her hips under his arms, pulling her body towards him. He gently kisses and licks at the outside of her wet heat, trying his best to hold himself back from diving in face first. The taste from Victoria’s pussy, even just a hint of it, makes Plato’s mind go wild. He loves taking his time to enjoy being between her legs, and he takes full advantage of every second she gives him. Each light touch causes Victoria to shiver and gasp in burning anticipation, and when Plato pushes his tongue into her, she is already moaning and shaking at the glorious pleasure rippling through her. The tom follows her through every jerk of her hips as he slowly edges her forward, bathing in the sounds of his love. Unable to contain his enthusiasm much longer, he lingers on her clit until Victoria’s whole body is trembling.

“Oh my Bast, hggh Plato that feels so good,” she whines sweetly.

Grabbing Plato by his head, dually holding on for dear life and also shoving his face even more into her pink heat, Victoria claws frantically as the pleasure builds, wordlessly begging for him to continue on, to lick more, for him to just stay in that spot and set her free. Licking and licking in a steady rhythm of long strokes and short wiggles on her clit, quickly the white queen is left squealing breathlessly as her thighs press hard against Plato's ears and her pussy pulses around his lips and tongue.

“Fuuuucck!”

Her body slumps back, relaxing as the tom ends his efforts just as he starts them, by giving her now starkly more reddish-pink pussy a final delicate kiss to finish it off and getting a final hint of her on his lips to savour and dream about for hours to come.

“Vic, I know I always say this, but I love you,” he tapers off as he licks his lips, “And I love how you taste. So good!” He stands himself up, staring down at her once again. “I can never get enough of it, but uhh, since we’re trying new things today, would you mind if I…?” His look is now meekly wide-eyed, clearly embarrassed about what he is thinking. Plato’s paws start rubbing on the outside of her thighs pensively, getting lost in the soft fur.

“Just spit it out Plato. C’mon what are you so coy about?”

“Well…” The tom grabs her sides firmly, carefully rolling the queen onto her stomach. “I was thinking of something, but it is more for me than for you to be honest.”

With a giggle, Victoria peers back at him and gives him a wink. “Whatever you want Plato, no need to be shy.” She flicks her tail side to side, curiously excited.

A quiet thud tells her that her tom is on his knees once again. When strong paws push her legs open again and a familiar nose brushes against her thighs, the white queen is confused, but is now pretty sure she knows what Plato is too nervous to ask for. His rough tongue licking at her pussy again jolts her out of her thoughts, and she quietly moans in anticipation. Plato’s large paws knead both cheeks of her tight round ass, almost covering them fully. With happy squeezes, he pulls her ass apart, admiring the sight for a moment. The pause feels long, at least to Victoria, but a sudden and heavy lick against her asshole following some licks to her pussy catches her off-guard and causes her to yelp out loudly.

“Plato! What are you doing back there?”

She does not get an answer beyond a muffled growl as Plato, still nervous, silently pleads for her approval. Without any further complaints for his lover, he plants a kiss on each of her asscheeks before kissing her asshole gingerly, much like he does when he eats her out. Another testing lick gets a squeak out of Victoria, and Plato starts to settle into his rhythm as both of their bodies relax into it. Worshipping her with his moves, the tom caresses her backside as he rubs his face into her ass and pussy, clearly enjoying every moment. The wet and warm sensations against such a sensitive spot is admittedly a bit uncomfortable for the white queen, but she cannot bring herself to stop her man from giving her asshole special attention. Even without seeing his face, she can easily sense the desire and enthusiasm he has for finally rimming her like this.

“Oof. You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she groans after a particularly harder lick.

“You have no idea Vic,” he says slowly. “I truly cannot explain it in a way you’d understand. I just love your pussy and butt so much I feel like I need to, I don’t know, pray to them right now or something.” The tom continues on, running the tip of his tongue against her asshole again.

The long strokes between her pussy and ass are a mixed dose of pleasure for the queen, but her tom wants to give her something to enjoy after being so welcoming to his exploits up to this point. Pushing two fingers into her wet heat, he fingers her again while licking at her tight asshole. Victoria claws into their bed, the paired sensations creeping up suddenly and strongly as they crash through her much harder than she was anticipating. One its own, his rimming was simply tolerable, but with his fingering, it is a totally different sense of pleasure that she has never felt before.

“Plato, please. I seriously need you to stop. You’re going to make me cum again!”

The tom stops immediately, and cannot help but grin. “I thought you weren’t going to like it Vic. Everlasting, that was pretty damn fun. You do taste good – all of you,” he says will a playful spank of her ass.

“Well, you know what, I kind of feel like I need to revere a part of you too,” she teases as she turns herself around on the bed, now facing toward him as he remains on his knees. Victoria runs a paw across his neck to the back of his head, pulling him into a number of kisses peppered all over his face. She pats a spot on the bed, “Sit down, please, for me?”

Without delay, Plato happily jumps onto the bed beside her, excited as always for her taking control. Victoria slinks her body in front of him, sliding herself between his strong legs. Her eyes are intensely trained on his, and the world around him seems to fade away, with only his love in view. For all he cares, he would live the rest of his life like this, dedicated only to her existence. His focus is broken slightly when the white queen smiles so kindly back at him, and he becomes aware of how much his heart is racing at what she has in store for him.

“You know, you look so big and powerful sitting like that. At least compared to me.” Victoria runs her paw softly against his thigh without breaking her eye contact, “So strong too.” The queen unsheathes her claws, digging them into his fur and lightly onto the skin of his thigh as she drags them slowly up his leg. “I know you would do anything to protect the people you love.”

“Well, I’m no hero Vic. Just doing what I can. You know -”

“I think its hot Plato,” she cuts in, clearly going somewhere with her thought.

The white queen creeps even more forward, her head now resting on his lap. She continues staring right through him, and it makes his fur stand on edge. “How you could easily fight off anyone or throw them around,” she emphasizes the last part with a gasp, and Plato can now feel her breath against his cock. He struggles to stay composed, loving every moment she teases him. She rubs both of her paws into the flesh of his thighs, grabbing them, “How you can flex these muscles like its nothing.” She moans a bit, possibly giving away how much her praise is not just from general appreciation, but from her own lust as well.

“Do you know what my favourite part is though?”

Plato cannot manage much aside from a choked, “W-what?”

“That your all mine,” Victoria whispers with a sultry rasp to her voice. She grabs his cock firmly in her paw to steady it, breaking her eye contact for a moment as she starts nuzzling the soft fur of her face against his length. “All mine.”

Winking up at her tom, the white queen opens her mouth and swallows him down with a quick move. Plato jerks his hips into her face, clawing himself into the bed in reaction. No matter how many times, the divine feel of her warm mouth and throat still takes him by surprise, and he cannot help but moan at how good it feels as he throws his head back in pleasure.

“Oh good god Vic, how do I deserve you?”

He looks down at his love, and she is still peering up at him with her intense stare. She pushes and pulls her head back, sucking his cock with a tenderness and love that is unmatched, all the while staying locked in on his eyes. It seems like she is worshipping him right now with her moves, something Plato is not used to. The tom is used to being the one smitten, endlessly trying to make her feel like she is the most important being on the face of the Earth. The intimacy of the blowjob, with them so focused on the other, feels like a spiritual experience more than it feels like sex. When Victoria gives him another small wink, Plato gulps hard in anticipation. The queen licks all over his cock before holding the head of it in her mouth with pursed lips, her whiskers bending along with her efforts.

“Holy fuck are you beautiful, Vic. I can’t put it into words.”

The white queen runs her rough tongue along the bottom of his cock, rubbing against the sensitive spot below it's tip. Plato instinctively grabs a hold of her head with one paw as the pleasure crashes through his body with jolts, with his love still staring intently up at him. “Shit that feels good!”

Humming in satisfaction at her efforts, Victoria presses firmer with her tongue, but is quickly stopped by her tom. “Vic, please. I cannot believe I am saying this, but stop. You’re going to make me cum again, and I don’t know if I have it in me for more after that.” Smiling as much as she can with her mouth full, she purrs against his girth, the vibrations a whole new sensation that Plato wishes her could explore more, but as asked, she pulls her head back, giving his cock a messy kiss as it leaves her lips. She climbs up on her knees, pressing her body against his chest.

“I guess we should really get to some of that stretching you offered to help me out with a little while ago, hmm?” Victoria smiles so big her fangs glint in the fading light of their den. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think I could stand waiting any longer to be honest,” Plato says, running a paw through the soft fur behind her left ear.

“Well then,” she giggles as she drops down from atop his lap and spreads herself onto the bed, laying on her side as she supports her head with one arm. “How do you want me first?” she asks, beckoning with her free paw for him to come closer.

“Lay down on your belly again. I’m not done with that nice ass of yours quite yet. I have one more thing to try, I promise.”

“Alright then, but keep that tongue to yourself this time, okay? If you lick my ass again, it is going to sparkle when I walk around!” The queen laughs off the last sentence as she settles face down into the bed, tail swishing in the air above her.

“Yeah yeah, but what a sight that would be though.”

Plato crawls up behind Victoria before raising himself onto his knees. His paws are swift to massage at his love’s backside again, still delighting in just how soft it is and how it jiggles around in such a mesmerizing way when he plays with it. The tom bends down and gives each cheek a light kiss once again before grabbing them firmly in his paws. Letting go with his right paw, he begins jerking his cock, quickly getting hard at the sight and feel of his white queen’s perfect behind. He returns his paw to the same half of her ass as before, and gently pulls her cheeks apart with both paws. The tom lines his hips up, and with as much care as he can, he thrusts his cock between her asscheeks, effectively sandwiching his length inside of them.

Plato fucks back and forth, huffing at the sensation. “Well damn Vic, what a surprise this is just a good as your thighs, but I think it may be even...,” he trails off before smacking her ass as she squeaks, “Hmm, oh yeah, even better!”

He quickens his thrusting, getting carried away at how much he is enjoying the soft cushion of her ass around his girth. “Fuck, I love it. I love it so much.” The tom growls as he picks her hips up and fucks her cheeks more and more, all while Victoria is near helpless as she goes along with it.

“Plato, enough with the personal fun! Now just do it, fuck me like you mean it. Show me what my strong tom is capable of!”

“Oh Everlasting, with pleasure Vic. You don’t need to ask me again I swear. You better hold on to your collar!”

Plato pries the queen’s legs open into a wide splits again before rubbing at her pink pussy. Victoria pushes her hips back into his touch as she moans desperately, needy for him to finally fill her up after all of this foreplay.

It comes in a most divine way for both the tom and the queen. Plato fucks into her wet heat to a loud mewl of approval from his love, taking his length as she gasps in utter pleasure. Victoria whines with each stroke, clenching around him as he fucks hard into her, chasing the pleasure. It is always worth the wait for either of them, Plato getting to experience her tight pussy that always takes his cock perfectly, and Victoria getting stretched and filled just so in a way that she cannot properly fathom. The pleasure when they meet is unrivaled, and the intense passion makes them truly feel alive. The tom increases his pacing to fully enjoy it, grabbing hold of the flexible queen’s left leg and bending it forward over her back, lifting her hips up slightly as he deepens his penetration. The tom fucks her with almost everything he has in this position, throwing his whole weight into driving his cock into her tight pussy.

All Victoria can do is squeal in response, breathless already from how good it feels. “Oh Bast. Fuck. More Plato! More!”

“Fuck you feel amazing. Ugh goddamn. Hold on for a sec.”

Plato eases off of her leg, letting it fall to the bed. He brings an arm around the queen and pulls her onto all fours so he can take her doggystyle, fucking hard into her again and again. The sensation and pleasure building in him never fails to make the tom feel like he is the luckiest cat around.

“More, please! For the love of Bast, fuck me like you mean it!”

The tom, in his lust, wraps his large paws around her lithe waist and lifts her body up clear off of the bed, slamming himself into her in any means to give her what she is begging for. Her paws and legs dangle wildly beneath her as she is made a ragdoll in his grasp with each frantic thrust.

“Oh shit, that’s it. Harder!”

Plato fucks her with a power he rarely shows, pushing his hips into her while also pulling her body towards his as he fucks her relentlessly from behind. Each thrust is made with as much of his length he can muster, almost pulling out each time before he slams back into her tight pussy again. It is all becoming too much for the queen, and with a few more hard thrusts, her smaller body convulses in his hands, momentarily fucked out as a massive orgasm tears through her.

“Holy fuuucck Plato. Aaah, fuck!”

The tom pulls out of her clenching pussy, lowering her down back onto the bed with the utmost care and letting her limp body sink into the bed as she recovers with sharp breaths.

“Damn that was good Vic, but I really think we need to work more on some stretching. Please?”

“Oh no, look who’s begging for it now,” she teases, waving her backside in the air. “Listen, give me a few minutes. I’m still coming down from all that. I think I caught a glimpse of a former life for a sec back there.”

“Fine, fine. I just want you so bad. I can’t stand it. I need to hear you scream.”

“C’mon take it slow! We have lots of time. I promise.”

Victoria pats the bed alongside her once again, inviting her love to join her. He dutifully follows her lead, laying down beside his queen to face her. He instinctively wraps his arms around her in a warm embrace, keen to never let her go. They stay cuddled for some time, sharing warmth between them.

“Hmm, I guess this is nice enough. I’ll never get tired of holding you. So soft and cozy, its nice.” He kisses the top of her forehead, tightening his hold on her smaller body as he sighs.

“I know I’ve said this a hundred times, but you’re not too bad either. Like a big blanket draped over me that makes me feel so at peace.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Of course. And maybe that blanket likes my ass a bit more than anymore else, but that’s just the way it is y’know. I would gladly be in bed all the time with a nice, warm, big thing like that.”

Victoria claws a path down Plato’s chest and abdomen, firmly grabbing hold of his cock. The look in her eyes is fiery, and she cannot hide the grin on her face as she watches her tom wriggle as she takes control again. She leans in and whispers in his ear, “Do you think you can you help me with something?”

“Whatever you’d like, just say the word.” The tom is nodding as he begs, eyes wide for her request.

The white queen raises her left leg up, extending it all the way up by her head and touching her shin against her ear. In that position, she opens herself up, on full display for her tom. She playfully claws down her leg to ensure Plato gets the full picture, kicking it in little waves as she moves to her thigh. “Well, I think I need someone nice and tall to help me get the full stretch into my legs. You look like the perfect person.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, yes absolutely. Why don’t you stand up and we can get started?”

“Well then, anything to help.”

The tom jumps up off of the bed, standing as tall as he can while he waits from his love to make her way up in front of him. Even though Victoria is relatively tall when compared to the other queens, she is easily dwarfed by Plato standing over her.

The queen runs her paws along the tom’s chest, “Oooh yes, this is a perfect spot,” she muses as she looks up to him with a sweet smile. Victoria lifts her right leg up parallel to the floor before raising it slightly, brushing it against the fur just above Plato’s hip.

“Do you what this move is called?”

“Uh, no? Fancy leggy? What do you take me for Vic? I can’t even walk with half as much grace as you do. You're honestly magnificent.”

“You’re so flattering. It’s called adagio. Doesn’t that sound so romantic?”

“Kinda, yeah. Very elaborate.”                    

“Well, this,” she pauses as she raises that leg and arm straight up high into the air much like she does during her solo, “This is a développé.”

“That’s fucking hot. Bast Vic, you know I love when you demonstrate your skills like this.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s why I want you to help me stretch.” She lowers her heel to waist level, stopping it with her paw. “Hold this for me,” she says as she offers her leg to Plato.

He brings it up to his mouth, kissing her foot gingerly, “For my lady, anything.”

“Okay, well then grab hold of my heel and lift my leg as high as it’ll go. I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

Doing as he is told, Plato raises it up, stopping as Victoria’s toes reach the level of his ear. The white queen is in a vertical splits, leaning to rest her legs fully against her tom’s body all the way from his feet to his shoulder.

“Good Plato, good.” She pats lightly against the paw holding her raised leg in place. “Now, fuck me like this.”

“What? How? I don’t want to hurt you Vic!” His eyes are wide is astonishment, running it through his mind how he can do it.

The white queen reaches between her legs, fingering her pussy to get them coated in her sweet wetness. She brings her fingers up to Plato’s mouth, shoving them in. The taste and scent sends a chill through him, his cock getting hard. “You’ll be fine. Do it for me, please? Stretch me out.”

Without needing any more of an invitation, the tom adjusts his footing and fucks slowly into her pink pussy as she purrs in response. Somehow, they always fit together perfectly, and this is no different. She is at the exact height he needs, and after a few testing thrusts, Plato’s hips find a rhythm as he pushes his cock into her tight heat as deep as he can manage like this.

“Fuck, I think you’re even tighter like this. It’s crazy.”

The tom is right. In this position, each thrust is sending a jolt of divine pleasure as her tom drives himself into her with a bit more resulting stretch and pressure than she is used to. He keeps on fucking her slow and hard, listening intently to her loud gasps and moans as she is filled so wonderfully.

“Bast, your pussy feels like heaven.”

“Hmm, then you’ll probably enjoy this then.”

Victoria loops an arm around her leg, and turns her body slightly on pointe so that the inside of her thighs are against his hips. She flexes herself even more, overextending into a full side split as she opens her pussy up more for her tom to bury his cock into. “Let me have it!”

The tom brings his own arm around her raised leg to support the queen, ramming his full length deep into her as she cries out. While he will gladly take her in any position, there is something so enthralling about getting the chance to fuck her as the ballerina she is. Plato’s mind is heavy with lust, enjoying every fleeting moment he can with his queen gifting him this special access. He is forceful with his moves, no longer holding back as much as he gives himself to her needs.

“Oh god, oh god. Fuck Plato, you’re stretching me out so good. That cock belongs deep inside me, don’t you forget. Keep it coming, harder!”

The tom roughly slides himself into her pussy again and again until Victoria is shaking.

“Fucking hell Plato. It feels so good.”

She can barely hold herself up as she cums again with a scream, her pussy clenching hard against Plato’s cock.

“Fuuuck!”

The white queen’s body slumps backwards against Plato as he still fucks her slowly, guiding her down from another revelatory orgasm as he supports her body with his own.

“Vic, that was amazing. I have always dreamed about something like this ever since I saw your first solo. You were just so beautiful when you showed off like that. Like this. Hhhgh, I just cannot help myself.”

The tom grabs her around her hips, pulling her off of the ground as they stay connected. As if she weighs nothing at all, Plato brings an arm behind her back to support her as he repositions the queen’s body.

He pulls her up so that they are embraced chest to chest, their eyes meeting again. The queen wraps her arms around him, pulling herself up into a hug. “I love you so, so much Victoria.”

“I love you too Plato.” She smiles sweetly up at him, nuzzling her head against his neck and chest as he tucks his head into hers. Their mutual lust quells for a fleeting moment in the den around them, with only the sound of low breathing being shared between them.

Plato is the first to break the silence as he begins kissing Victoria with an intense passion before starting to fuck her slowly again. He is languid as he thrusts into her, the look of utter adoration in his eyes as he cradles her in his arms. The queen loops her arms around the back of his neck as she longingly moans into his mouth, returning the love he is showing as they connect in quiet intimacy.

Their mouths break away as both try to catch their breaths, quickly getting exhausted as they continue intertwined, but neither is remotely interested in stopping now.

“Vic?”

“What?”

“So, I know I promised that I was done with personal requests, but I just thought of one more. May I?”

She laughs softly, amused by his tenacity with always finding new things to check off a mental list with her. “Go ahead. How could I say no?”

Plato kisses her forehead, murmuring a smitten “Thanks.”

The tom slides his arms up under her arms, lifting her off of his cock to a meekly frustrated whine from his love, clearly satisfied with his efforts up to this point but still wanting more. Plato holds her out at arms length, admiring her smaller frame. “You are so cute Vic, by the way. An angel in my hands.”

Swinging his arms up above his head quickly to a surprised yelp, the tom places Victoria so that she is sitting on his shoulders riding his face. Bracing her against his lips, he spreads his large paws across her lower back before he rubs his face into her heat. Unlike before, he is not keen on going slowly, kissing and licking wildly at her folds and clit as she claws the top of his head for stability. Her legs and thighs are quivering against his back as she moans loudly.

“Fucking hell Plato, I feel like I’m gonna black out up here. Shit you are too good at this!”

The tom grunts against her heat, blinded by the white fur shoved into his eyes. The queen curls her body forward, resting her chest atop of his head. “Plato, I think I only have it in me for one more time. Maybe you should choose wisely how you want that to happen?”

The tom gets the hint, stopping his exploits. He gently lowers her in his arms down to eye level, still licking his lips in ecstasy at the taste of her. “Well, are you ready then?”

“Oh yes, my love. Show me what my big strong man still has left in him”

Plato grabs under her ass, raising her in front of him and lowering her onto his hard cock. The queen clenches in glee as she slides over him, the pleasure of how he fills her up never waning. The tom brings his arms beneath her knees, adjusting her body and his hips before he quickly pumps repeatedly into her pink pussy with all that he has. Victoria shrieks in his arms, flailing her arms until they find his shoulders for support.

“Oh yes, fuck me just like that Plato. Holy hell! I’m all yours!” she cries out.

Her words unlock something in the tom’s mind, and his thrusts become heavier and hungrier. Plato growls with each push of his hips, getting feral as he takes his queen apart. Victoria screams in pleasure as he fucks her as hard and fast as he can, burying his cock into her warm heat like his nine lives have always been dependent on this very moment.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuccck!”

The queen squeals loudly as she cums, but the tom does not slow down, slamming himself into her. He leans forward and kisses her in his arms, biting at her lips and neck as he continues to fuck her. Victoria cums again, eyes beginning to roll back as her tom overwhelms her in waves of immense pleasure. Plato stays incessant with it, chasing his own release as he fucks her raw. The queen can barely talk, merely squeaking as each thrust makes her see stars.

Stepping forward, Plato throws their bodies down onto their bed, still ensuring that his queens lands relatively softly onto her back. He straddles her body, throwing his hips down into her. He looms over the white queen as she shines in the moonlight draping their den, kissing her frantically in a fit of pure love and lust. Victoria claws desperately at his back, carving scratches and pulling out clumps of his fur as she thrashes beneath him in beautiful agony. Forcing her thighs apart, he deepens his penetration, fucking her as her legs wrap around his back.

“Plato my dear, cum for me,” she whispers barely audible in contrast with the tom’s heavy breathing, but it rings out crystalline in his head.

Fucking in to her pussy, swollen from overstimulation, the tom thrusts hard into her as she yelps. The white queen cums hard again, moaning as she shudders uncontrollably against his skin. Above her, the tom unloads into her warm heat with a lengthy groan, flooding her tight pussy with throbbing waves of his cum before collapsing down onto the queen. Cum leaks out from her red pussy as they stay locked together, both utterly spent.

Victoria’s body is twitchy, fur completely on edge after being fucked so passionately. Her mind is still trying to play catch up from all of the orgasms, but she manages to reach out from underneath and give an appreciative pat to the tom laying overtop of her. They are both powerless to move, still recovering.

Plato gently cups Victoria’s face in his paws as they kiss. “I love you Vic. My love is yours today, tomorrow,” he stops to take a deep breath in, raising his head to look down a her, “It is yours for as long as there is air in these lungs. I swear I will find you in the next life, and if there isn’t one, then I will thank the Everlasting Cat at the gates to the Heaviside Layer for every single moment with you. You are the light of my life.”

“That’s so sweet, my love. I love you so much too. You are my total feeling solace in this world, steadying me.” She contemplates the words before starting again, “But, I mean this in a nice way, get off of me. You are so damn heavy”

Plato pulls out of his queen as cum pours from her pussy. He rolls onto his side, bringing Victoria beside him. They silently share a gaze of complete adoration, smiling excitedly to one another just like they did after their first time together.

“Fucking hell. That was the best time I’ve ever fucked you Vic. That was it. My god.” The tom’s breathing is still heavy, all of his energy totally wiped out in such a feral burst of lust. “I’m going to be dead on my feet for patrol tomorrow. How the hell do I explain to Munk why I can’t move?”

“Just look him in the dead in the eye and tell him that you were fucking your girl silly. I’m sure he'll understand. He seems like he can excuse a little break in private from the sounds of it, if you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows again as she grins.

“Oh lord, shut up,” he laughs.

“Hey, wait a minute, I thought you said you loved me? Pardon me with the sudden attitude you big oaf!”

“Vic, I love you more than literally anything, but I am not sure if it can trump that look Munk gives us when we are lacking energy. Have you even seen him disappointed? Its way worse than when he’s mad.”

“Tell him you are just trying to treat me like he treats his wife, mouth and all.” She nods once to sell her words.

“Oh my God!”

“Is that what Demeter said while you were watching them? I bet she did!”

“Why do I tell you anything? Seriously?”

Plato grabs his queen and pulls her into a tight hug as he kisses her forehead gingerly. After all of this, it is probably a good time to actually use their shared bed to get some rest and sleep. This night has proven to be one of the most rewarding in Plato’s new chapter of life, and he will always be thankful to whomever blessed him with the brightest light that shines in his universe. Being beside his white beauty is ultimately far more rewarding than anything pleasurable in this life or the one preceding or potentially following it, and he would never want to change a thing about that.