#and its been like that for More Than A Month

[slasherbvnnie]

Bewitched

Mattheo Riddle has a secret girlfriend, it's even secret to her

Reader isn't in a particular house, implies they're not in Slytherin. Reader and all characters mentioned are 18+ and in college! Hogwarts. Probably will be a spicy part 2 ;)

Modern!Harry Potter AU, College!Mattheo Riddle, College!Hogwarts AU

Questions first began to arise before one of Slytherin’s quidditch matches last month, particularly when Mattheo was changing into his uniform and Draco noticed the scratches down his back. The boys teased him over it, questioning him on who was the lucky girl who made them. Mattheo just smiled on and let them try to decipher who it was from his giggles at each attempt they gave.

On the other end, questions circled around you when your friends first began to notice the hickeys that littered your neck, blushed cheeks and meek responses when your friends pressed on knowing who mauled their friend.

It’s not that you were purposely hiding who they were from, you just didn’t want to say who it was from until both of you knew what you were to each other. Mattheo had been there during a party hosted by Gryffindor, things moved pretty quickly that night when you set your eyes on him. He was pleasantly surprised the new transfer student had her gaze set on him, so much so that he didn’t reject her whispers about going back to his secluded prefect dorm. There were some more nights after the first, some more innocent than others, but there was never one important question asked from either side.

You didn’t know if the Mattheo Riddle was open to a relationship, Mattheo Riddle had simply thought you two were already together in his own world. He just simply didn’t kiss and tell.

While you sat in the stands waiting for the quidditch match to start, you were brought to attention when Cormac McLaggen sat next to you. “Excited for the game?” You questioned him as he chuckled, “if its not my own, not much,” he joked as you smiled. “Why aren’t you with the others? I’m sure the rest of your team are betting against Zacharias,” you hummed.

He grinned, “my bets are always against whoever Malfoy is against, doesn’t play fair,” he said before continuing on. “I wanted to spend some time with you for the game, if that’s okay,” he said as your eyes widened in surprise.

“Me?”

“That’s not a problem, is it?” He asked as you shook your head no. “Of course not, I just, well I noticed you talking with Hannah Abbot recently and I assumed…” your voiced trailed off as you looked away for a moment.

“She…ah, we’ve been comparing notes recently. She wants to get in good standing with Slughorn, she says the club seems like fun,” he admitted as you nodded.

“So there's-“

“Nothing between us two, I assure you,” he said with a smile.

Before you turned back to look at Cormac, you noticed the familiar head of curls staring directly at you two. Even from all the way out in the field, you could feel the death glare Mattheo was giving to Cormac. It surprised you, as Mattheo had never shown interest in any others talking to you before, but he now seemed distracted as they were beginning to set up for the match.

You hadn’t waited to talk after the match was over, Cormac walked you back to your dorm after, saying goodbye to you after telling him how you needed to study for your potions exam. He promised to send a letter later that night, to plan an outing in Hogsmeade on the weekend but when the hours passed and no letter was slipped under your door you grew curious.

It wasn’t until one of your roommates came in, going over to your desk. “Be glad we aren’t in slytherin, lost a hundred points earlier,” she said as you looked up from your notebook. “How come?” You asked as you set down your pen.

“Riddle sent McLaggen to Madam Pomfrey,” she said as you stared at her, quickly getting up from your seat.

“Did you hear why?” You asked her as you grabbed your cardigan, put it on quickly, and went to put on your shoes.

“No, but I did hear he spent the afternoon with you. Is Mattheo the one who gave you all those hickeys?” She asked as you rolled your eyes.

“I am not the reason they fought,” you said as you went to the door. “Where’s Riddle now?” You questioned as she took a seat on her bed. “Back in the Slytherin common room, I heard Dumbledore is questioning taking him off the team,” she said as you huffed, opening the door and heading to the dungeons.

When you made it past the password ridden door, you looked around before you saw Pansy taking care of Mattheo’s knuckles as she was scolding him. “Pomfrey said I was ok, Pans,” he grumbled. You made your way over to the couch he was sat on, his eyes on you when he noticed you were near.

“Why are you here?” He asked, “we have an exam tomorrow, you’re always busy the night before,” he said as Pansy looked between you two, dropping Mattheo’s hand as you looked him over.

“I heard what you did, I wanted to know why McLaggen is nearly in a coma from you,” you said, knowing you were exaggerating it a little. Mattheo only laughed as he stood from the couch, heading to his dorm. “It should be obvious as to why,” he said, anger laced in his words. “Obvious?” You questioned as you followed him.

“Yes, I thought it was very clear why. Why else would I risk being kicked off the team?” He stated as he walked faster.

“You are at risk with every fight you’re in. This isn’t even your first fight this month!” You reasoned as he let out a bitter chuckle. “Why did you fight with him, Mattheo? You won today’s game! So why are you so angry?” you questioned him as he stopped and turned to you.

His eyes were watery despite the angered look on his face, “I am angry because my girlfriend is entertaining other guys wanting to go on dates with her when she doesn’t even go with me,” he said as he stared down at you.

“Girlfriend?” You asked, a bit taken back and hurt by his words. You weren’t aware he had a girlfriend. “You never told me you had a girlfriend,” you said, backing away from him.

He blinked, eyebrows burrowed in confusion as he looked down at you. “you’re- you’re the girlfriend. You know that…right?”

You gave him a bewildered look, “me?” you questioned, just as confused as him.

“Yes. I wouldn’t- merlin, I wouldn’t cheat.” He groaned, bringing a hand up to his face, pinching the space between his eyebrows.

“You’ve never asked me to be your girlfriend,” you said, trying to remember if there was a time that he forgot about.

“You have been the only girl I’ve seen for the past month,” he explained. “I thought, I thought when you kept coming back that it meant you were mine.” He said as you shook your head.

“I just thought it was a mutual understanding,”

“An understanding?”

“You know, like, friends with benefits. You never said otherwise. We’ve never been on dates! Even Cormac at least wanted to go on a date,” you said, Mattheo’s face twitching at the mention of another.

“I was going to take you for our anniversary,”

“What anniversary Mattheo? We are not dating!” You explained as he frowned, turning away from you now.

“We aren’t dating,” he said, nodding as he continued to his dorm. “You can have your date at the infirmary with McLaggen then,” he huffed out.

“Mattheo! Mattheo!” You called out, following behind him. You reached for his arm before he quickly shook your hand off.

“Mattheo, I don’t understand,”

The dark haired boy turned around, getting close to your face now. “You seek me out just for fun, come to my dorm nearly every night that you aren’t studying and you think I did not develop feelings for you? On the nights we don’t spend in my dorm, I spend all night in the astronomy tower, in the common room, at the Black Lake, anywhere you want to go for the night. I’ve shared with you about my father and his expectations and you’ve told me about your life and interests and how school was before your transfer and you just think I see you as some girl I only use for sex?” He asked, looking deep into your eyes, his own angered and burning with tears.

“You think I would risk losing my spot on the team over some girl I don’t care about?”

A lump formed in your throat, tears filling your eyes as you stared into his. “Mattheo..” you croaked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You haven’t known me for long but I never thought you would take me for someone like that,” He said as he scoffed, almost turned around before you reached for his arm, looking up to him.

“I never, I just thought… I- I don’t know what I thought,” you said slowly.

His face softened, looking away from you for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mattheo. I just figured, maybe you didn’t want a girlfriend, or that… I don’t know. I truly thought you just wanted to be friends with benefits,” you admitted to him as he nodded.

“I never asked because I was afraid you’d reject me,” he said softly, looking down. “You’re smart and sweet, I thought once you knew about my family, my father…you’d run away,”

“You are not your father,” you said as you looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have said no,” you hummed, catching his attention.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t have a potions partner if I did,” you teased as he chuckled.

“You really needed to study tonight,” he mumbled before he moved your hand from his hand, lacing his fingers between yours. “I’m sorry for making assumptions,”

“I’m sorry for never asking how you felt,” you said in return, making him shake his head.

“Well….since we’re already here…I do know a way we can make it up to each other,” he said with a smirk, you rolled your eyes.

“You just told me I needed to study,” you said as he grinned, “you do, you still can. I can quiz you,” he said as he leaned in closer.

“You also need to study,” you reminded him as he chuckled. “You’ve been hanging with Granger too much,” he teased as he walked with you, opening the door to his room. “We can study tonight, but tomorrow if you pass, I know a special reward I can give you,” he said as he kissed your neck.

“A reward for me? Sounds like it’s a reward for you,” you mused as he gently bit your neck.

“Are you saying I don’t treat you well? I’ll have to remind you,” he hummed against your skin, making you shiver.

“Down boy, time to study,” you said as you walked over to his desk. He smirked, looking at you before grabbing his books and placing them in front of you. “Go ahead, study,” he hummed sinking onto his knees in front of you. “I’ll be enjoying myself, perks of the top potions student,” he grinned.

[baby-yongbok]

Go, Baby

Boyfriend!Hyunjin x Afab!Reader x Boyfriend!Felix

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 1.2k ♡ Summary - You give your boys a treat for being so amazing. ♡ Warning(S) + A/N - Poly!Hyunlix + This was just something that I wrote one night as I was fighting sleep at 4am. Enjoy! Reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI ✧ Masterlist ✧

They never had a problem with sharing. In fact, they were happy to have the other to show off to. They really have been the best to you ever since you got together but they've been your real life superheroes over the past couple of months. 

Naturally, you wondered how you could thank them for all of their unwavering hard work and passion. You found the answer when you heard them joking about lap dances one night in the kitchen. Why should it be limited to a joke? Let's make it reality. 

Three days later you asked them to push the loveseat in your living room directly across from the couch. Felix sat there while Hyunjin made himself comfortable on the sofa. They were confused but intrigued. They wanted to ask questions and Felix almost did, until you turned the music on. It's been five minutes since and they're still hopelessly entranced by you. 

"God, look at our baby go." Hyunjin leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. "How is she Felix?" 

"She's an angel, I swear it." Felix runs a hand up the curve of your hip. He's a goner as he watches you move, completely hypnotized by the sensual rhythm. There's a hunger in his eyes that you've never seen before. "Baby, why don't you show Hyunjin what you can do."

You slide off of Felix's lap with a smile. Indulging in a swift kiss before your knees hit the floor and you turn to face your other boyfriend. He narrows his eyes at you, keeping your gaze as you crawl over to him. You slither up to plant a kiss on his lips once you reach him. Slipping a bit of tongue into the mix to make him groan.

"You should thank Lixie for sharing, I wasn't done with him yet.”

You crawl into his lap and Hyunjin reluctantly breaks your gaze to meet Felix's, who's gawking at you with lust decorated pupils. "I'll show him how thankful I am later." With a wink, Hyunjin drags his gaze back to you. 

You can see the same hunger residing in his gaze as he looks up at you. Like a predator taking in its prey. He's more primal than Felix but you know that the blonde is more likely to bite than the raven haired beauty under you. 

"Come on, baby." He lands a light pat on your ass. Indulging in a light squeeze as he moves his hand up your back. "Show me what you got.” 

He explores you as you swirl your hips. Slow and calculated movements that encourage you to give him more. The music is a mere echo to you at this point. It's the rhythm of their breathing that you're grinding to. Hurried, desperate, sensual. 

“My god, maybe I regret giving her away.” Felix rasps from the other side of the room. He runs his hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to busy himself. If he's not distracted he's more than certain that he'll pounce on you. 

“No take backs.” Hyunjin teases, a smile in his tone but absent from his features. He's too busy studying you, taking in the smooth tick of your hips and the way your hands run over the perfect mounds that he's dying to nip at. “Show Felix a little something, baby.”

You immediately oblige, bending over further into Hyunjin so that your breasts press against his chest and your full ass is on display to the groaning blonde behind you. You can't see him but you know that he looks absolutely debauched. Messy blonde locks falling into his face as he pulls at the crotch of his sweats in a desperate attempt to make room for his growing erection. 

“Ah, fuck.” Hyunjin hisses, large hands squeezing at your sides while you shake your ass for your boyfriend behind you. 

You tick to the music, keeping a steady rhythm despite the relentless dripping of your core. “Love seeing you move like that.” Felix's eyes follow you as you whine. Drawing imaginary circles with what he perceives to be the most perfect ass to ever exist.

“Reverse, baby.” You follow his request with a smile. Whining counterclockwise and throwing in some other moves that you know drive him insane. 

“How's the view?” Hyunjin asks. 

“Sinful.” Felix groans a reply, leaning back into the loveseat. “C'mere, baby. Come back to me.” 

You sit up on Hyunjin’s lap, locking eyes with him and giving him a smile that makes his cock twitch, you can feel it. You make your way to the center of the room and look between your boys. Both disheveled and hungry for more. 

They watch as you dip your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Popping the fabric against your skin in an effective attempt at teasing them. They watch with bated breath as you untie the string of your shorts. Easing the fabric down your thighs inch by painful inch until they pool around your ankles. 

You bend to pick them up, swaying your hips to make sure they both get a good look. “God damn.” Hyunjin rasps with a hand resting over his hardened cock. He rubs at it subtly but it's not enough, you know it. 

“Let me have em, baby.” You turn to Felix with glowing eyes taking him in slowly as you stalk towards him. Elegant yet dangerous like a cheetah.

 You crawl into his lap, settling quickly as you lace your shorts around the back of his neck like a winter scarf. You use them as leverage to pull him into a sloppy kiss. Giving his mouth the attention you know it's been dying to have. You moan into his mouth and he licks up the sound like his life depends on it. 

Desperate hands knead at the flesh of your hips and his heaving chest is pressed firm against yours. He feels so good that you've forgotten to dance and Hyunjin is so quiet that you've forgotten his presence but you know that his eyes are on you. 

You know that he's taking in every sound, every slight grind of your hips. He's imagining the twirl of your tongue around Felix's and he's wishing that it was him that was tasting you like that. 

You pull away from Felix with a wet smack echoing from your lips. His gaze is more fucked out than hungry now, this is the look that you're familiar with.

“Having fun?” You jump when Hyunjin sounds too close to you. Suddenly you can feel the pressure of his hard cock straining against his sweats in the middle of  your back. You don't dare turn around. He thinks that's cute. 

His slender fingers wrap around your neck, splaying over the soft skin with a gentle press. He tilts your head back so that your eyes meet his, the crown of your head resting against his stomach. 

“Enough of the teasing, yeah?” He presses his cock into you at the same time that Felix grinds up against your cunt. You moan at the pressure, feeling dizzy from the slight pleasure. 

“I thought you two liked my dancing.” You smile with the tip of your tongue between your teeth. Usually they like a good tease but it seems that they've reached their limit for today.

“Oh, we love it, baby.” Hyunjin confirms as his free hand tugs at the hem of his sweats. 

Felix's lips are hot against the exposed skin of your chest. He tugs at the neckline of your tank top as his teeth nip and mark the flawless skin. He whispers between open mouthed kisses

 “Let us show you how much we love it.” 

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[2neaky]

24 Hours, Someone There When She Need

It's that time of the month ... well, almost.

—5.1 k words! content warnings: ovulation, emphasis on pms symptoms (whether realistic or not), moody/petty reader, attentive bf Connie, p in v, b*ckshots, vulgar s*x talk, cr*eampie—(☆) will be used in place of "Y/N" (banners by @adornedwithlight)

The deep slope of her stomach curves gently, just barely a muffin over the tight hem of her sweats. If she hadn't been staring so closely, analyzing every inch of her reflection's figure, she wouldn't have even noticed it.

But the sight is enough to have her kiss her teeth, the sharp sound slicing through the air.

"Are you fucking serious?"

Bringing dainty fingers to the area where her stomach protrudes the most, she presses the tips into her warm skin. What she expects to to feel is the plushness of her abdomen.

Not a taut surface, feeling as though it's stretched to its full capacity. Or the sharp pang of an ache deep in her lower stomach. A hiss slips past her thick, two-toned lips.

"Fuck." She presses more, prodding at different spots to see if her body would have the same reaction. All she notices is the gradual change in where her bloated stomach had grown tight and where it had remained somewhat soft.

In all her twenty-odd years of living, (☆) had never expected be one of the unlucky few who got bloated. This is a first, and she desperately wishes for it to be the last time.

What did she eat to cause this? God, she hopes it isn't because of that bread she ate last night. A gluten allergy this late in the game would fucking suck.

And this is uncomfortable, at best. Her stomach feels tight and overall, she just feels heavier than usual. Not to mention the pain. It echoes from the inside out.

She whines at the unfairness of it all before defeatedly lifting her chin to let her shirt fall back over her stomach.

Correction—her boyfriend's shirt.

(☆) prays the bloating will go away before the end of the day.

Nursing the carton of passion fruit sorbet in her lap, (☆) watches the Tv screen with wide eyes. The anticipation regarding the killer's next moves only grows.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," she whispers to herself, a spoonful of the sour treat stuck in her hand as she refuses a bite without seeing what happens next.

The shift and click of the front door, rather than the movie, has her jumping out of her seat. She looks over at it just in time to see Connie pushing his way into their apartment. The sight of which makes her heart skip a beat.

"Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit outta me," she laughs, breathless and holding her chest. She stretches forward to place her carton of sorbet on the coffee table.

"My fault ... didn't mean to do that," he smiles, shrugging off his jacket to place it in the nearby coat closet.

"You're good," she hums, making her way over to greet him.

Just as he's free, (☆) slides a hand up his chest, bracing herself as she leans in on her tippy-toes to plop a juicy kiss on his lips.

"Hey, baby," she beams, pulling back to look up at him through her fluffy mink lashes.

"Hey." His voice is soft and the traces of his cologne from earlier today flood her nose. "What you been doing?"

She shrugs and glances back at the Tv still playing in the dark living room. "Just watching a movie." Turning back, her eyes zero-in on her boyfriend's handsome face. If it were possible, her eyes would be two giant, blood-red hearts. "I missed you, though."

Her other hand joins its twin, still resting on his chest. In tandem, they slide up and around his shoulders. And Connie knows better than to not do anything about that; pale, tattooed arms encircle her waist.

Hugging her tight, his face immediately falls into the crook of her neck, her warm skin smelling like her usual rose-scented lotion.

"Missed you, too," he mumbles.

The vibration of his voice pulls a gentle giggle out of her. Connie pulls back from the crook of her neck, only to press a kiss to the portion of her forehead, where the band of her bonnet doesn't reach.

"How was work today?"

He does a half-shrug, not at all concerned with shit that's got to do with that place. Not when he's got his baby in his arms. Working at an auto-body shop isn't as exciting as it seems. "Regular shit. But I'm not tryna talk about that right now."

Another giggle. "Okay." (☆) sighs, the smile on her lips falling into a soft pout. "Why can't you just stay home with me?"

He scoffs, a teasing smile on his pink lips. "And who's gonna buy you all that expensive shit when you wanna go on your little shopping trips?"

With a playful roll of the eyes, she replies, "Fine. I just hate when you're gone so long."

Both of his dark, well-groomed brows pull together as he smile of confusion tugs at his lips. "It's just work, babe. You okay?"

(☆) blinks. "Yeah, why? I can't miss my man?"

"Ion know," he laughs, unsure. "You just ... Ion know."

"As your girlfriend, it should be normal that I just want to be buried in your skin at all times. C'mon now, Connie. You should know that."

Confusion melts away as he allows himself to fully laugh at her joke. "Aight."

Finally, they pull away. He steps into the living room, flipping on the lights. "You ain't go to work today?"

Taking up her carton of sorbet, (☆) goes for the forgotten bite. "Nope. I wasn't feeling it." Her tongue curls around the cool, silver spoon filled with the fruity, sour treat.

He hums, heading into the kitchen, (☆) following just a couple of feet behind.

"You might get your wish tomorrow."

Now it's her turn to look confused.

"I'm home tomorrow," he smiles, answering her silent question.

Gasping, her lips stretch upward. "Forreal?"

"Yeah, you got me all day."

Excitement isn't even the word. Before she can think of anything to say, Connie stretches over the island to pluck the spoon from her hand, stealing a bite of her sorbet.

"Hey!"

He takes the carton, too.

"You shower yet?"

She shakes her head, frowning as she watches him devour her favorite flavor.

"Good." He shovels another spoonful into his mouth. "I'ma meet you in there."

The hot pellets of water hit her body and cascade down her skin, covering her in a blanket of warmth. Suds crawl down her person and towards the drain.

(☆) can't wait for Connie any longer. Where is he?

As she watches a soapy bubble slip down her navel, her thoughts are brought back to her stomach. Fingers skate over the smooth and hot skin.

She's still bloated, though her stomach is a tiny bit softer. She hopes it isn't too noticeable.

The shower door pulls open and cool air rushes in, hitting her. It's slightly refreshing.

"You having fun in there?"

As the question leaves Connie's mouth, his gaze dips, noticing (☆)'s hands on her stomach. Immediately, they drop away.

"I already cleaned, you took too long," she rolls her eyes. "And hurry up and get in ... you letting all the steam out."

"Good." He steps into the shower, closing the door behind him. "You got the whole bathroom fogging up." He slides in right behind her, his body adding more heat to the shower. "Could barely even see two feet in front'a me."

She wants to roll her eyes again, because how dare he have her wait this long?

But, the urges dies away as soft hands grip her wide hips and warm lips are pressed into the side of her neck. Her rigid body relaxes.

Much like this bathroom, her mind fogs over as his hands travel up the sides of her body, only to slide up under her breasts to cup them.

And all (☆) can think about in this moment is how good his touch feels ... and how good it would be to get some dick right now.

His lips are moving against her neck. He's speaking and she's not even listening to the words coming out of his mouth.

Absolutely nothing can take her out of this moment ... except for the sharp pain that strikes throughout her boobs.

"Ow!"

She yanks away to face him.

"What?" His eyes are wide in panic, bouncing all over her face.

"Why did you squeeze so hard?" She almost yells, caressing her tender chest.

"My bad," he starts, eyes on her red-tinged skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you." His face creases with worry. "I thought you liked it, I usually squeeze 'em like that."

"Okay, well it hurt," she frowns.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice softening.

A tiny sigh slips past her lips. "Don't squeeze, just hold."

He nods. "Wash my back?"

"Yeah," she says, grabbing his wash net from the shelf. As she lathers it with soap, he turns his back to her. Ready, she begins with a. light scrub across the expanse of his skin.

The curves, ridges and dents of Connie's back shine through his tattoos. His biggest pieces are here. But the one that matters the most is pretty small—sitting on the perch of his shoulder: her name.

Slowly, Connie turns for her. (☆) keeps quiet, all of her attention poured into ensuring that he is squeaky clean.

Well ... until he focuses on just his body. And—fuck—his soap smells so good.

Her free hand presses to his bare chest, fingers splayed out against his tattoos. Before she realizes, she slips her hand down his stomach.

Her mind is running. Right now, she can skip all the foreplay. Shit, even head. Taking Connie in the shower would be so perfect.

Bent over, bracing the wall as he pounds into her from behind. Dick reaching so deep—

Her lower stomach aches wonderfully at the thought. And speaking of ache, she's sure his dick could fix that.

"Uh-uh, keep your focus."

Dark eyes flick upward to stare into his. A smirk ghosts at his lips.

"I can't touch it a little bit?"

The lust in her eyes is there, tangible. He almost laughs out of pure shock.

"You know Ion like shower sex," he smiles gently, taking up her hand to slips his fingers in between hers.

"Connie," she whines before kissing her teeth. "C'mon, please?"

"Nah, baby, we could do it after. I promise." He leans in to plant a kiss on her temple.

However, (☆) pulls away, even snatching her hand out of his hold. Frustration contorts her face.

"Why the fuck would we do it after we just showered?"

His eyebrows raise at her sudden switch in tone. "Woah."

"That's stupid, Connie. Like, what the fuck?"

Now he's making a face. "(☆)—"

Sucking her teeth, she pushes open the shower door and steps out.

And as good as her ass looks walking away, Connie can't help but to be thrown off.

By the time Connie had left the shower, (☆) was already in bed. The covers were pulled over her shoulders, and her back was turned to him.

"(☆) ... (☆)."

No answer.

"You serious right now?"

He's talking to himself. Sucking his teeth, Connie decides to move on with himself. He lotions his skin after drying off and gets dressed before climbing into bed.

The silence on (☆)'s end continues into the next morning, apparent by the other side of the bed left empty. Usually, she would wake him up.

It's only fair that Connie be pissed.

This is his day off, he's supposed to be enjoying it with her. How the fuck is he going to do that when she's ignoring him?

He doesn't even understand the reason for it either. It wasn't like he flat-out rejected her. He just said "not now."

And (☆) knows he doesn't like shower sex. It's too cramped and too slippery. Last time they did it, he almost slipped and busted his head open.

Scary times.

Shit, (☆) even agrees with him, regarding his feelings on shower sex. At least she usually did.

Either way, it just brings him back to his point—there was no reason for her to blow up at him like that. And there's no reason for her to be this upset.

He just hopes the silence doesn't last all day.

Sitting at the island, he shoves a spoonful of cereal and milk into his mouth. Because, of course, she only made breakfast for herself.

As he eats silently, he watches her stand at the electric kettle, waiting for the water to come to a full boil. There's a mug nearby, the tag for the raspberry tea bag hanging over the cup.

The kettle clicks as it shuts off. Carefully, she takes it up and pours the steaming water into the mug. As she does so, he eyes her closely, not caring to be caught.

Her tank top is tight against her body, practically a second skin. And it's making her boobs look great.

Totally an inappropriate time to be thinking this, he knows. God, he's like a horned up teenager. But he can't deny the obvious.

And usually, her boobs always look good. He's never been one to complain about them. But there's something about them today, he can't put his finger on it.

They look more ... full? A little heavier than usual.

And now that he's looking so closely, her nipples are poking. He glances up at her face, seeing that she's still choosing to ignore his staring.

Dammit, if that doesn't piss him off even more. Because even in a state of having just gotten out of bed, she looks beautiful. Her skin's got that soft, morning glow that's making it look all clear and her lips look so plump and kissable.

Why did they have to be fighting?

He shakes his head with a quiet sigh, lips pressed together in annoyance.

As (☆) turns to place the kettle back, his eyes move elsewhere on her body—her stomach. The bottom of it peaks out from under the end of her camisole, making it fit like a baby-tee.

Now, (☆)'s never had the flattest stomach or abs. He's okay with that, more than okay—he loves her soft tummy. But ... this isn't her usual stomach pudge.

It's got a roundness to it that, honestly, has got him second-guessing if she's still on birth control. Or if the shit is even working.

If he were dumb—or just didn't know his own girlfriend—he'd assume she's at least in her first trimester.

As he looks back up at her face, he finds her glaring back at him. His mouth opens—he doesn't even know what he wants to say. But, before the words spill out, she's walking out of the kitchen and back to their bedroom.

"C'mon, bro," he sighs out.

(☆) resurfaces minutes later, this time, dressed in one of his t-shirts. It completely sheathes her figure, causing him to frown.

"(☆)—"

"What?"

He buffers for a second, conflicted on what to acknowledge first: her odd ass behavior or that fucking attitude?

He decides to give her some leeway. "Yo, what's up with you?"

"Nothing." Her tone is flat and her words are quick.

"(☆), quit playing. I'm serious."

"I said 'nothing,' Connie, oh my God." Exhaling, she grabs her mug and takes a sip of her tea.

He eyes her for a moment. Clearly, she's in no mood for a mature or sensible conversation. And bringing up his concern for her stomach would be like shooting himself in the foot.

God, it's his day off! He doesn't want to argue with her. Today is supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing.

Whatever's going on with her, he just wants to fix it so he can get back to loving on her.

Desperate for a solution to this problem, Connie decides to be the bigger person and send out the first peace offering.

Shortly after breakfast, Connie had left the apartment.

Despite her aversion to holding a real conversation with him, a wave of frustration washes over (☆).

He just left without saying a word.

That really got to her, enough that the backs of her eyeballs began to prickle with the production of tears.

God, is she really about to cry over this?

They've had much worse fights. This isn't even a real fight? What the fuck is going on with her?

And why the fuck is she still bloated?

It's worse today, too! She wants to fucking scream. And Connie noticed, she knows he did. He was practically analyzing her body earlier.

Even worse, her boobs are even more sore than they were last night. And the ache in her stomach had grown into full on cramps, attacking her every five to 10 minutes or so.

God, she feels like shit.

With the presence of the cramps, she starting to fear the presence of her period. She isn't supposed to get it for another week. But she's wetter than usual, and it's got her fearful that at any moment it could be blood.

Her body is not on her side today, clearly, and it's fucking with her self-esteem. Who knows how long these symptoms are going to last?

Hopefully, they'll go away before her actual period starts.

But at this rate, it seems like she's going to be wearing baggy shirts for the next couple of days.

As he drives, Connie's mind doesn't stray from the thought of (☆).

Her stomach, her irritability—the raspberry tea. All those signs point to one thing: she's started her period.

Has it really been a month already? Shit ...

That doesn't explain the bloating, though. Or does it? He's never noticed it before, at least.

However, he shrugs it off. He's just glad he recognized the signs sooner than last time. That wasn't fun.

He glances over at the plastic bags resting in the passenger seat: her favorite food from the Jamaican restaurant they tend to order from, and a bag of groceries—full of her favorite snacks during her time of the month.

He hopes he didn't forget anything. Otherwise, that's his ass.

When he returns to the apartment, the kitchen and living room are empty.

Setting the bags down on the kitchen island, he calls out to her.

Still no answer.

So, he goes searching for her. And even though the apartment isn't small, there really aren't many places to hide. Connie knows his girlfriend well enough to know that she's in bed ... which is where he finds her.

"What you doing?"

She shrugs, sparing him no eye contact. Most of her attention is on the Tv.

"Aight, well ... I got you some food."

"I just ate."

"I know, but ... I know you still hungry."

And he's right. Her appetite on her period rivals his.

"C'mon." He's already heading back into the kitchen before she can onject, not that she would. Not when food is involved.

Sighing out, (☆) climbs out of bed to follow after him. As she saddles up to the island, Connie is pulling a foil container from one of the plastic bags on the countertop.

He pulls the plastic covering off before sliding the bowl over to her, the steam rising in her face.

Her resolve is cracking. (☆) peers up at him.

"I just ... thought you would'a ... wanted this."

She looks back down at the food, trying to keep her lower lip from trembling. She sniffs. "Thanks."

He nods, watching her open up the plastic utensils and stab a fork into the food. She takes a bite.

And another.

Then another.

Before he knows it, Connie has watched her devour half of the meal when she decides she's finished. She'll save the rest for later.

"You wanna watch something with me?"

She eyes him suspiciously. Why is he being so nice?

She had expected him to be upset with her. She knows she’s been a bit difficult. What she didn’t expect was for him to go out and by her food and still want to spend time with her when he got home.

God, she really was being unreasonable last night. She didn’t even mean to react that way. She doesn’t even like shower sex!

But … he just looked so good and she just wanted him so bad in that moment.

She has to apologize.

The couple move from the kitchen island to the living room couch. Connie sits back with his arms spread across the tops of the cushions.

Apprehensively, (☆) snuggles into his side, face pressed into his chest. His warm, musky scent only makes her relax further. He hadn’t put on any cologne today, and his natural scent is driving her crazy.

Connie takes the liberty of finding a show for them to watch: Snowfall. But, he honestly could’ve put on anything because she wasn’t paying attention at all. Only concerned with being in his arms, (☆)’s mood is better than it’s been all day.

One of his arm’s moves from the top of the couch to hang off of her shoulder. Smooth and delicately, his fingers rake up and down her upper arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He does so a couple of times before that hand sinks to her waist and slides its way underneath the baggy shirt. It’s nothing for him to find her stomach, caressing her.

She doesn’t freeze or pull away. In fact, (☆) hugs him tighter and Connie is relieved that she’s enjoying this.

But she's enjoying it more than he intended. As he continues, (☆) only wishes for his hand to go lower. With every rub, his fingers tap at the hem of her pants.

She wants him to reach lower. Pushing her body up further against his, she hopes he gets the message.

Her mind is running, and there goes that ache in her lower stomach again. (☆) swears that the only thing that can get rid of it is him.

The thought of his dick pressing against her cervix has got her ridiculously wet. Emboldened, she throws a leg over his lap. Immediately, Connie catches it with his other hand.

He doesn't hesitate to rub her down, from her knee all the way up to her thigh and back. And every time he gets so close. What's stopping him from giving her just a small little squeeze?

Wordlessly, (☆) slips a hand beneath his shirt and heads straight for the hem of his sweats.

Connie tenses for a second, only relaxing when he realizes that she's only playing with his drawstring. His attention returns to the Tv for the next few minutes, until her fingers actually start to grip at his pants again.

This time he looks down at her. "(☆)—"

"Connie, c'mon." Sucking her teeth, (☆) sits up to really look at him. "Why don't you wanna do anything with me? You think I'm ugly or something?"

"What—(☆), no—"

"Then why not? What is it?"

Now it's his turn to sit up. "I never said I didn't want to. Shit, I did yesterday, but you got mad."

"Okay, but I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's cool, I'm not tripping off'a that."

"Then let's do it," she almost whines.

"I—(☆)..." He releases a sigh. "Ion know if period sex is something you really wanna do."

She blinks, completely knocked off by his words. "I'm sorry ... period sex?"

'Yeah ... ain't you on it?"

"What the fuck—no." Her face scrunches up. "Why would you think that?"

"Wha—Ion know! I just thought—"

"So, just 'cause I got mad, I'm suddenly on my period?" Her voice is steadily rising.

"No—"

"Is that why you got me food?" She looks at him through squinted eyes.

"(☆)—"

She rips away from him, standing on her feet. "Fuck you."

"Baby, wait—" He stands to block her from leaving. "It's not 'cause you was mad."

(☆) crosses her arms over her chest, careful not to press too hard on her chest. "So what was it?"

"You just—you a lil' moodier than normal—but, but, I can see you also a lil ... bloated—"

She makes an attempt to push past him, but Connie catches her before she can slip away.

"I'm not saying it's something wrong with it, I just thought something was going on 'cause your body was reacting." His voice is soft and slow as he tries his best to explain himself. "You even drank the tea! You only drink it when you're on your period."

(☆) exhales, gaze averted as she internalizes his words.

"Well ... I'm not on it."

"Okay, well ... my bad. Sorry for assuming."

She keeps quiet, her face softening.

"Forreal, (☆). I'm sorry."

"I know..."

"You'on forgive me?"

She didn't even notice when he'd gotten closer. But his hands are on her hips now. "Hm?" And his face finds its way in the crook of her neck.

"Connie—"

"You'on ... wanna ... accept my apology?" Every space in his sentence was filled with a kiss to her skin.

"Connie ... okay!" She bursts out into a laugh, feeling him nip at her skin.

He pulls away to stare down at her. "Forgive me?"

"Yes!" The big smile on her lips betrays the way she rolls her eyes.

Another bit of boisterous laughter pours our from her as he lifts her up onto his hips.

"Want me to make it up to you?"

She nods softly, leaning in to press her lips against his.

"Good."

“Oh shit … oh shi … o—shiiiiit!”

Acrylics dig into the plush comforter, strewn across the rocking bed.

The wide, tattooed hand splayed across the small of her back is warm, just like its twin that clutches her hip. Her body naturally leans into the touch, like it’s a salve to the repeated punch of dick to her cervix.

“Shit … bounce on it, baby.”

The clap of her ass against his pelvis has got her ears ringing. But it’s nothing compared to the loud sopping noise her pussy makes.

“Fu—uck Con’,” (☆) moans out, turning her head to the side against the mattress, just to watch him enjoy her pussy.

So wet, it’s too easy for him to pull out. It’s damn near no friction. Looking down at himself, surprise takes him as he sees her juices dripping from his dick—dripping like honey onto the sheets.

His dick bobs in the air and she whines, missing it already. Gripping one ass cheek to keep her spread open, Connie watches her clench around nothing.

“Shit so creamy ... you came yet?”

(☆) barely shakes her head.

Hand still on her ass, he jiggles it softly before giving the cheek a quick smack. Her whimper's got his dick jumping. He misses being inside her already.

Chuckling, he takes himself in his hand and pushes back in. As his dick bullies its way into her wetness, air expels from her tight pocket, making a wet noise of suction.

“Damn," he groans. "This pussy talking to me?" He resumes his steady strokes.

"Auugh ... aauh—yes, Daddy," she whines.

Clenching his jaw, Connie props a leg up. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pulls her back on his dick as he drives his hips forward. The force punches broken moans out of her, only encouraging him to go harder.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she chants.

Dropping her head low, (☆) pushes a shaky hand down under her body, reaching between her trembling legs to weakly cup herself. It's an unintentional action to soothe the overstimulation—feeling more sensitive than normal.

"This what you needed, right?" His heavy breaths are quiet compared to the echoes of skin-to-skin, the squelching sounds of her pussy, and her moans. "Hm?"

Mouth dropping open, (☆) fights to get a word out. Her eyes almost get lost at the back of her head. "Ye ... y-yes!"

Every time she bounces back, Connie finds her cream building up at the base of his dick.

"Ooouuh, baby!"

"What?" He licks his lips, brows furrowed deeply as he continues delivering backshots. "Tell me."

"S-so deep!"

"I'm deep?"

"Yes—fuck!"

Hands move from her shoulders; One around her throat and the other gripping the fat of her hip. Connie slows, only to ground his hips into her with far-reaching slow strokes, aiming to make her feel each and every movement.

"I'm in your stomach?"

She nods wordlessly. Any arch in her back is gone. She can barely hold herself up.

The fingers around her neck squeeze, and she squeezes around him.

"Shit, baby," he whispers, pushing past any weaknesses to continue driving into her. "Pussy too good."

Through the haze of their fucking, (☆) still notices the way he pulses inside of her and the telltale twitches he makes when he's close.

A shaky moan pushes out of her as her eyes squeeze shut. "Don't pull out!"

She squeaks as Connie pulls her up, her back to his chest, and grips her throat tighter.

"Want me to cum in it?"

"Yes, baby," she pants. "Cum in me!"

The thought has her pussy fluttering around him. It almost blindsides him. His lower stomach burns as he staves off yet another release.

"Yeah?" He speaks in her ear.

"Yeah," she whines, eyes falling closed as she allows him to hold up the abundance of her weight.

He pushes (☆) back into the bed, keeping her head into the sheets and her ass in the air. His hand remains around her neck.

"All you had to do was wait," he said through gritted teeth. "Would've given you all this shit and more."

His sentences are punctuated with the perfect slams into her uterus. It gives her a pain that kills any of those pesky cramps she had early. A pain that feels so good.

This is better than any heating pad. Shit, better than taking painkillers.

Her orgasm hits her like a truck. But it doesn't stop Connie from drilling into her, fucking as he sprays around his dick. The sensation feels like he's drowning in the best way possible.

Before he knows it, Connie is coming inside of her—deep. And (☆) swears to God she can feel him in her stomach. Her body is abuzz and she feels like she's floating.

Even though she's done, her body continues milking him, pulling a deep groan out of him. He lays one more smack on her ass before pulling out.

Immediately after, their cum—mixed together—oozes out of her. The sight is almost hypnotic. Before Connie allows himself to be swept up in it, he remembers something.

"You still on birth control, right?"

"Stopped ... a couple weeks ago."

Oh, shit.

[geekforhorror]

lost in the fire

pairing: married james kelly x fem!reader

summary: you move to a new town where you meet your new hot neighbor james and he offers to help you out.

word count: 1.3k

warnings for this chapter: flirting, mutual pining, reader is unaware he’s married yet, pet names, and a bunch of fluff.

based on this post

You finally did it. After months of trying to find a new house, you finally found one that resonated with it you. It was a rather small and quaint town which may not have been appealing to many, but it was to you. You had lived in the city for your entire life, and you hated it. You hated the bustling streets filled with traffic and loud sounds. It was time for change. And that’s exactly what this town would be for you.

As you stepped out of your car, you started to walk in front of your new house and took in the scene before you. The house was beautiful itself as well. It stood behind a white fence in all its glory, white pillars and all. Your dad had suggested this house and even helped you put a striking downpayment on it. You were a daddy's girl through and through. Your father had always been your rock along with being your biggest supporter whenever it came to you making decisions like this. Unfortunately, the town was too far away from the city for him to visit so suddenly.

All of a sudden, a ringing in your pants pocket breaks your train of thought and sends you back to the present moment. You grab your phone out of the cramped pocket and look to see who could be calling you. To your surprise, it was the moving companies phone number, which you knew you had to take. You accept the incoming call before you're met with a man's voice. The call starts off fine, but not for long. The representative goes on to tell you that the moving van broke down mid-route and they have to get the parts from a shop in the city.

"You've got to be kidding me. Are you serious right now?" you ask out of frustration before groaning at the news.

"Sorry ma'am. The worker at the shop said it won't be ready until tomorrow," the man explains.

Great. This is just what you needed.

"Thank you for letting me know," you say, trying to mask even more frustration.

"Of course. Have a great rest of your day," he says.

"You too," you say before hanging up the phone and stuffing it back into your pocket.

"New in town, huh?" a man standing across from you says.

He had dark brown hair with these piercing blue eyes that felt like they were staring you in your soul. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt which showed off his toned biceps and tattoos that adorned his forearms. The man was at least in his mid-thirties, but that didn't stop you from admiring how he looked.

Fuck, he was hot.

"Yup, just got here from the city," you reply.

"Nice. Say uh... I couldn't help but hear your frustration on the phone," he says awkwardly.

"Turns out the moving van with most of my stuff in it broke down and won't be here until tomorrow," you explain to him.

"Classic moving companies, am I right?" he says with a chuckle.

"Between the two of us, I knew something like that was going to happen. I was just praying it wouldn't," you say, returning the laugh he had given you.

"Do you have any stuff I can help you with, miss?" he asks you.

"You don't have to call me that. Just call me by my first name," you say with a grin before telling him your name.

"I'm James," he says before extending his arm, trying to initiate a friendly handshake, which you graciously accept. "I live right across the street."

"Nice to meet you James," you say warmly, grateful that you had a nice enough neighbor rather than a grouchy one.

"So do you have anything for me?" James asks once more, reminding you in case you had already forgotten his question.

"I have some glassware in a big box that I didn't trust the moving company with because of how much is in there," you say to him before motioning him to walk closer to your car. "Let me pop the trunk," you say before undoing the clasp of the key hook that was connected to your jean shorts. You press the appropriate key and before you know it, the trunk pops open smoothly. Once its done rising, James grabs the heavy box like its nothing.

"I got it," he says confidently.

You motion him to follow your lead and he does so accordingly. You unlock the front door and swing it open wide enough. You take a step inside and you're amazed by how beautiful the interior is even though you had toured it before. It had this cute staircase with a beautiful banister accompanying the side of it, sleek marble floors, and a tiffany fixture. It was perfect.

“Where should I set this down, sweetie?” James asks you.

You blush at the pet name he had given you out of nowhere and try to keep your composure, but there was no use. Your cheeks had betrayed your efforts as they became a rosy red color. “Oh um… you can set it down there,” you stammer as you point toward the kitchen table.

Following your instructions, he walks over to the kitchen before setting the fragile box onto the table. “Alright, there you go,” he says with an evident smile and a nonchalant tone to his voice.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asks you, looking for an excuse to overstay his welcome.

“I just have some boxes of clothes I need to get out of my car, I’ve got it from here” you say.

“Alright, sweetie,” James smoothly answers, the name rolling off his tongue as if his voice was made of sweet honey.

“Thank you for your help, James,” you say gratefully.

“No need to thank me,” he responds jokingly.

“No seriously I owe you one,” you say sheepishly.

“I’ll hold you to your word,” he says while pointing at you with a faint grin.

“Maybe I could give you my number in case you want to claim that favor of yours sometime,” you say, the redness returning to your cheeks. Fuck.

“Sounds good to me,” he says, taking sight of your face and how it was practically glowing in his presence. He yanks his phone out of his back pocket before unlocking it and opening the contact app. He types in your name the appropriate field with his swift fingers, double checking to see if he spelled it right. Once he checks, you recite your phone number to him before he types each digit in and clicks save.

“Alright there we go,” James says to you.

“It was great meeting you James,” you beam.

“I could say the same. It’s nice to know that you’re nicer than any of the other neighbors. They’re either old and cranky or just assholes in general,” he warns.

“I appreciate the heads up,” you say, thanking him for what seemed to be the millionth time this afternoon.

“Well I should probably get going,” he says which you slightly frown at.

“I’ll follow you out. I have to get the rest of my boxes anyway,” you say to the man.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says even though he didn’t want to leave either, yet trying to play it cool.

The two of you start making your way toward the front door before he opens the door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you mock jokingly at which he playfully rolls his eyes at. After you step outside, he turns to look at you.

“Hopefully I’ll see you around?” he phrases as a question, hoping you would give him an answer that satisfied him.

“You definitely will,” you reply, making him smile just the tiniest bit.

“Glad to hear it,” he responds. “I’ll see you around then,” James concludes before walking away from your house

“Bye James!” you yell loud enough for him to hear now that he had made it across the street. He turns around, waving goodbye to you. You already miss your new neighbor, but you knew you would be seeing more of him. You were just praying he would call in your favor sometime soon.

You decide to finally make it over to your car to retrieve the last of the boxes, but only before you see James walk into his house.

You were definitely going to like it here.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @myheartwillgoon2022 @camiemorgan8 @demieyesore @midnight--raine

[goldsainz]

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home. 

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired. 

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with. 

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much. 

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection. 

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace. 

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to. 

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly. 

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship. 

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV. 

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you. 

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.” 

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone. 

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.” 

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has. 

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer, 

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go. 

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation. 

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace. 

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel. 

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last. 

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment. 

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there. 

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart. 

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him. 

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity. 

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.” 

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

[see-arcane]

The idea of one of the Weird Sisters being a romani girl or a slovak girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time is horrible, and a great way to showcase the kind of power (both social, and supernatural) that Dracula forces upon the humans around him.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong state of being, social, supernatural or otherwise. Dracula could have taken anyone from any station in Transylvania. Rich or poor, friend or foe. But I think none of the Weird Sisters were noblewomen while alive. They were, like Jonathan, sniffed out among the chattel. Dracula is their superior in every regard that way; and more, the servile classes do one thing better than any aristocrat.

It is their wont to make their ruler happy.

The eldest, a young fair girl, was a drop of sunshine and laughter in a threadbare village. Someone who uplifted and charmed whoever she crossed. Dracula, after some unknown breaking point in the mad red fog as he skulked up the mountains into his broken castle to wrestle with inhuman instincts and hold to something like a man's sanity, was alone. A monster made raw with slaughtering, with his people only fearing and fleeing around him. His halls are quiet. He crawls and lopes through them, snapping at himself, knowing he is reducing night by night into a Thing more than a man, let alone a conqueror.

So he goes hunting. He finds the fair girl who makes others happy and holds their hearts. He steals her. Wrings out months of playacting from her; in turn, he has reason to force himself into behaving like a man. The castle has no visitors in that era. When she cries and calls from her window, she hears only her own echoes as a pleading choir. And then it is back to making her monster happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

The next girl was taken back when ties were first forged between the Count and the early generations of Slovaks he would come to entrust with his errands. There was trust on the human side too. Yes, he was a monster, but he was their monster. Their benefactor. He speaks to them like kin and pays a dragon's ransom for their work. They are allies! He calls them friends!

So it goes until his attention falls on one of the girls. A daughter. A sister. A new wife. She knows their Count, their kind monster. 'A friend of the family.' And perhaps she is not even afraid when he asks her, cordial as a lord, to aid him with something in the castle. A small matter, my dear, but something he would not trust the coarse handling of the men to do. She goes in. The door locks.

Does she go to that same room, that same window? Does she weep and call for her family? Does anyone try to come for her, to plead with their friend-master-owner, or to--ha--raise a weapon against him?

If so, it is a small matter. Quick. Bloody.

She charms him while alive. For she must. She thought, just as her new-ancient Sister thought, that she might find a way out. A chance to flee. But she makes him so happy. So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And the Slovaks learn a lesson that is shared through centuries. They warn all those they work with in the future of the same. The locals, the nomads, the strangers. No women. No girls.

The third girl has no warning. She is Romani, but she has run from her people too. Or else she was trying to find them. Times have always been grim, but especially when the mania over witchcraft was at its height. She lost friends and family to...what? Sham trials and tortured deaths? A scattering to the winds as they fled the self-assigned hunters? Running further, higher, steeper. God's soldiers will not bother with their mission if it means galloping up the cliffs.

Up, up, up.

There are wolves. There is cold. She has no room in her to care.

And then, a fairy tale happening:

A man appears on the moonlit mountain. His eyes are fire. Are you lost, my dear?

She is. She thinks herself already dead or dreaming when he leads her into the castle. When there is food, warmth, and sympathy from this smiling noble perched in the crags of the Carpathians. And for one month, maybe two, even after she smells something worse than death on him, even after every liberty is plucked from her like petals from a rose, even after she has her first glimpse of her grinning Sisters, even after she sees strangers--Living people! Her own people among them! Look, look, I am trapped here! Please! Please, do not go, do not leave me with him...--she clings to charm. To smiles. She makes him happy.

So happy that he loves her. She must stay.

And now there is a young man. Such a winsome thing, young and strong. He makes their monster so happy.

His waiting Sisters think their monster may just love him.

And as they hear him shout from the hand-me-down window, they laugh along with the living in their coffins.

[zephyrtheoctopie]

Heart of the Memverse, Veins of Order.

TASK M4NAGER!

(…name is a wip. Read its lore below the cut.)

Task M4nager came about from the ambitions of two differing entities. The conquest for Order and an unchanging world, coupled with the need for validation, the want to be acknowledged for SOMETHING by both their peers and their lovers.

But Four got a lot more than what he was bargaining for, that’s for sure.

Task M4nager is, in essence, the worst parts of Ramiel combined with the personality of Order merged to make one being. A scorned and slighted dictator, rejected by everyone.

But it wasn’t always like this.

TM was originally created by Marina as a sort of automated admin panel, able to keep the Memverse up and running without the constant need for organic oversight. TM was in charge of almost everything from the nodes, to the Spire, to even the things that spawn within and so on.

It also acted as a security system, preventing malicious viruses from entering and damaging the code. And it was *supposed* to prevent the exact circumstances that resulted in Order’s manifestation.

But it didn’t do that, did it? This failure in logic resulted in TM completely crashing and becoming basically inoperable.

You would think this would be a good thing for Order, but no actually. Despite its overriding of the system, TM was still above it in the hierarchy. And if TM hasn’t operated in a while, the Memverse’s code will start to rot and tear itself apart. The solution to this plight? The consciousness of a living being. With that, there would be no error since TM is now, well, alive.

The MV however, wasn’t open to the public yet. So Order couldn’t just pluck a random sanatized octo or something for it. But there was….a few beta testers.

Eight/Hephaeus, Acht, Pearl and…

Ramiel. Agent 4.

Out of all the potential choices, Ramiel was the most mentally malleable. See, over the past few months, he had been feeling more and more overshadowed. I mean, how could he not? Artemisa, Hephaeus, and Neo 3 had all basically saved the entire world at one point in their lives. What had Ram even done compared to that? Save a stupid glorified catfish? Hell, he didn’t even save Callie, MARIE was the one to shoot those shades off and bring her to her senses. He felt so….inadequate compared to everyone else. And it ate away at his ego, badly.

Because the MV kept tabs on its users mental states at all times, Order knew this all.

One day while Ram was finishing up recording his combat data for use in the Parallel Canons, Order came to him with a proposition.

That if he joined its cause, he would have everything he ever wanted. Recognition…

Ramiel, not in the best mental headspace, and not really knowing what he was getting himself into exactly, took it up on its offer.

Ram proceeded to have his little squid soul ripped from his physical body and transported into the Memverse, where it was planted into TM.

And thus, Task M4nager was born.

That’s about it.

Thanks if you actually took the time to read all this!

[enthusiasticharry]

I also might have a few ideas of a few scenes that take place between each of the years (maybe even one from Harry’s POV of when he realised his love for governess!yn!)

Ah this sounds so good!! Write it babee!!

I may have an idea (if you are comfortable writing smut) like they have sex for the first time after giving birth to nathaniel and she is lil insecure cause after her pregnancy thinks that Harry may not like her body and all

orrr a domestic day were H makes breakfast for everyone and nathaniel is 2 or 3 years old and they all spend time together??

I don't know if it's a good idea but write anything I will read about them!!💗

Suffer in Silence

Daisies (Part One) ; Edelweiss (Part Two)

summary: after the birth of YN and Harry's first child, YN finds herself struggling to believe that Harry still desires her and he wants to prove that is not the case.

author's note: a lil extra for the governess!yn universe!!thank you so much for this ask!! the second that I saw it I knew that I had to write it for them!! the second request is certainly in the works, so watch out for that in the future!!!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut, discussion of body image postpartum.

Pregnancy was a beautiful thing.

YN was never, ever in her life going to dispute that. It was, as far as she believed, one of the most beautiful things that a woman could do. The fact that beyond their scientific knowledge, the body was prepped and able to change and adapt to protect a child that was made (in YN’s case especially) as a result of the love between her and her husband. It was completely astonishing to her, and she would never change that experience for anything in the world. No matter the sickness she experienced, the tumultuous changes in her emotions or the constant fatigue that wracked her body – YN would do it all over again for Nathaniel.

He was the missing piece to a puzzle that YN did not even know she needed. He brought life and light into the family, and more importantly, love. The way that Noah and Norah had accepted Nate into their lives, and even more so the way he brought them so much closer together. They were a family, and no matter what YN had endured to get here, she would never change it for the world.

Every woman experienced pregnancy differently and YN would never, ever dispute that fact. Her pregnancy had not been easy, but Nate was the reward. A very beautiful, charming reward.

The only way that YN could describe how she felt now was that something was missing within her. She would never blame Nate for this – he was the newly found light in her life. However, she would certainly be lying if she said that Nate’s pregnancy had not changed her in certain ways.

To YN, the change that had recently become too difficult for her to ignore was her body. The one (more reasonable) part of her brain continued to remind her that her body had done a wonderful thing, it had grown their son, kept him safe for nine months and then helped welcome him safely into the world. The other part, the one that held centre stage right now as she stood in front of her mirror was what plagued her.

Her stomach, which had been stretched to accommodate Nate in his growing had not returned straight away to its normal state (which YN had not expected at all) but now that Nathaniel was nearing five months, she thought there would be some sort of normality returned. Instead, there was still loose skin and greying lines which held a pink hue (not as prominent as when she was pregnant, but still there) littering her stomach, hips, and thighs.  Her breasts, fuller than they had before had their own lines which reminded her daily of their change also. Again, there was the rational part of her brain that tried to remind her that her breasts had changed to be able to feed their child, but her brain often could not focus on that.

YN’s head was tipped as she looked herself up and down, her body bare apart from the dressing gown that rested upon her shoulders. It was difficult to focus on the benefits of the changes to her body, especially when the only word she could think of when she looked at herself was ugly.

She could not stop those thoughts, even more so when she tormented herself with the ideas of what would happen if Harry were to see her in such a state.

Before the pregnancy, and even during, Harry had always been remarkably touchy with YN. It was as though there was a pull that meant that a part of his body always had to be touching hers – whether that was a hand in hers, an arm over her waist as they slept or knees touching as they sat side by side. YN, once these thoughts had settled within her brain, found it difficult to shake them. It meant that, without necessarily thinking of the effect of such, she had pulled away from Harry in these last few months.

It had meant that when their nights had once been filled with soft kisses and lingering touches now found both of them falling asleep with a gap big enough for another person between them. It frightened YN, as much as it upset her. She had no way of knowing whether or not they would return to normal, or if there would be a point in which YN was comfortable enough to be that way with Harry again.

She had not even realised within her thoughts, as she stared at herself in the mirror that tears had begun to fall. They were light, but they were there.

YN sighed, shaking her head, and pulling her dressing gown closed, and that was when Harry opened the door to their bedchamber. YN gasped, watching as his eyes moved from hers down her body until meeting hers once more.

“What is it?” Harry stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him, immediately noticing her tear-stained cheeks, “What is wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” YN shook her head, pulling the fasten of her dressing gown tighter to her body, “I am just tired, I think. It is nice to have a child-free evening I suppose, as much as I miss them.”

“I would not worry about them,” Harry shook his head, moving even closer towards YN, “My mother is probably spoiling them rotten, and you know how much Nate lights up when Nana is around.”

YN smiled, but she could not help when that smile dropped the second Harry grabbed her hand, spinning her around so that they were looking into the mirror. He wrapped his arm around her waist, YN gasping when she felt the weight of him on her body. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck (which she guessed was still his favourite place to be).

“We have not had a night alone in the five months since Nate was born,” Harry mumbled into the skin of her neck, “I want to know what has upset you so much.”

“Nothing,” YN shook her head, hoping that Harry would believe her, “I am just missing the children, that is all.”

“Now, whilst I know that is partly true… I also know that you are keeping something from me.”

YN turned her head slightly, looking up at Harry with tears in her eyes once more, “I am sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?” Harry asked, lifting one of his hands to brush YN’s hair off her face, “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“No, I do,” YN nodded, placing her hand upon Harry’s, “I have been distant, and I have been cold and I…”

“YN, stop it,” Harry shook his head, “You just had a child. I know that I do not come first to Nate, or to Noah and Norah – I know that. You do not need to apologise for that.”

“But, it is my fault that I cannot be with you in the way that you need,” YN shook her head, “That is my fault. It is my fault that you no longer have a wife that you desire.”

Harry went silent, and it was as though all of the worries that YN had felt were finally confirmed. She thought she would cry even more, but she felt more content than anything.

Then she did not feel that way anymore.

“Is that truly what you think?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, and then a look of hurt crossed his features, “That I do not desire you anymore?”

“How can you? I do not blame you; I would not desire myself with how I look right now.”

 Harry sighed and shook his head. It was then that a look of what can only be described as anger crossed his features. His finger lightly tapped YN’s cheek, moving her head so that she was facing herself in the mirror again.

“You truly think I do not desire you?” YN nodded as Harry sighed once more, “YN… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. God, I do not even know where to start. Those eyes of yours… you always say that my eyes are your home, but yours are mine. The soft skin of your cheeks, I would nestle my lips into them constantly if I knew it was not proper to do so. And… your lips. YN, how I lasted so long in my life without your lips I will never know, but if you think now that I have experienced them I would ever let them go – you are sorely mistaken.”

The tears that were collecting in YN’s eyes now were not because of her feelings but of the effect of Harry’s words. The look in Harry’s eye told YN that he was far from finished, but what else that man could say she had no idea.

His fingers drifted from her cheek down her neck, lightly running his fingertip from the bottom of her ear downwards until it met the nape of her neck, and then he smiled once more.

“Now, your neck,” Harry chuckled slightly from behind her, “You know the love I have for your neck, and how if I could live there, I most certainly would.”

YN chuckled from the side of him, “That would be a most terrible inconvenience.”

“You are calling me an inconvenience now? I see how it is,” Harry’s words have a slight teasing edge to them, and she knew that it would not end there.

It was then that YN truly realised the extent to which her words had annoyed him. It seemed that no matter what he was to say next, the fact that he had to utter those words was enough for YN’s chest to start heaving. His attack continued, his fingers moving down the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone until it landed upon the thin material of her nightgown. YN gasped slightly, worry crossing her features immediately at what his next step was to be.

“YN,” His fingers moved from the hem of her nightgown to the material further down, inching closer and closer to the tie that held the gown closed. YN immediately dropped her hands upon his, stopping his movements from continuing.

“I will disgust you, Harry,” YN shook her head, “I do not look the same as I did before.”

“I do not want you to look the same as you did before,” Harry shook his head, “You could never disgust me, YN. Your body has changed and as a result of that change, we have Nate. I cannot even fathom it; I swear to you. You would never disgust me, YN I am in awe of you.”

It was as though all of the worries that had accumulated within YN’s veins dissipated the second he said those words, and she almost felt a sense of relief. Her body dropped backwards, relishing the feeling of Harry’s body against hers. Harry’s eyes found YN’s again, and all it took was one nod of YN’s head his hands moved to the tie of her nightgown. With a quick pull of the bow, the material grew loose around her body. As Harry moved to pull the material from his body, his fingers grazed the skin of her stomach and whilst she tried not to wince she found it difficult not to do so.

“You are beautiful,” Harry pulled the material so it fell from her body, exposing her to him, “And if you think I do not, that I cannot desire you just the way that you are you are sorely mistaken.”

YN exhaled a breath, “You do not have to lie.”

“I am not lying,” Harry’s words are soft but stern – as though he is truly attempting to make sure she sees herself the way that he does, “Your breasts, YN if I did not already think they were magnificent then seeing what they can do to feed our son, that would have sealed the deal for me.”

YN gasped as his hands planted themselves upon her breasts. The touch was light, but it was enough for YN’s body to reel. Her breasts were more tender than they had been before, and Harry seemed to know just that. His feather-light touch moved from the expanse of her breasts downwards towards her stomach, where they wrapped around her body once more.

“I do know how anybody would find the place that kept their child safe undesirable,” Harry whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the skin of her neck, “It may not look the same, but who is to care? I love you and every part of you, and I always will. Nothing could stop me from such.”

YN sighed, watching Harry’s eyes in the mirror move down her body. That look, the want and dare she say desire that his eyes held made her prior thoughts almost laughable. She could not believe that she ever allowed herself to think such things. It was then that his touch continued, moving further and further down until it slipped between her thighs. YN gasped, unable to take her eyes away from the scene unravelling in the mirror before her.

“I gave you your space, as I wished for you to recover,” Harry mumbled, his teeth skimming the skin on her neck ever so lightly, “But if you think that I did not wish, did not dream of the moment that I was allowed to see you in such a state again you are truly mistaken. I missed every part of this, of seeing you, of feeling you.”

YN gasped when his finger slipped between her folds, finding its place where she needed it the most. Harry loved to tease her, especially in the bedroom and yet today there was none of that. He was worshipping her. He was worshipping every part of her body and proving to her that what he had said had not been a lie, no matter how much her mind had tried to convince her of such.

His finger began to circle her clit, gently before continuing down. YN gasped out, reaching to grasp his arm as he pushed his finger inside of her.

Of course, she had missed Harry in this way. It was as though once she had been given a taste, it was hard to go without it for so long. But, as Harry continued to work his fingers inside of her, the palm of his hand rubbing against her clit with every movement – she was shocked at how long it had truly been since she had felt this way, how long it had been since they had been with each other in this way.

“Harry,” She gasped once more, her nails digging into his arm. The thin material of his shirt did little to stop the feeling.

“I know, I know,” Harry nodded, nudging her head with his slightly so that she turned to him.

It was immediately that his lips found hers with such a force. YN whined slightly into his mouth as he removed his fingers from her, but it was not for long. Harry placed his hands on the small of her, spinning her around quickly. YN’s fingers found their rightful place in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging slightly as he moved his hands down to the back of her thighs. He parted them, and with a quick tap, she knew what to do. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around Harry’s waist.

Their lips never parted as Harry skilfully carried her towards the bed. She landed on the bed with a slight thud, causing a giggle to emit from her lips. Harry’s gaze never left hers as he pulled his shirt open, and she was pretty sure that buttons went flying off in every direction of the room but at this point, she did not care. His trousers were next, and YN’s teeth sunk into her lip. If she needed one last reason to believe that he still desired her, he was giving it to her right now.

“Come here,” YN mumbled, spreading her legs slightly in hopes of inviting him to her, “No teasing tonight.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Harry jested, with a raise of his eyebrow – but he still obliged her request, “I promise I will not.”

YN smiled. Harry’s hands rested by her head on the mattress, and YN rested hers on his shoulders. He gave her one last look, and the second that she nodded her head he pushed inside of her. YN gasped, pushing her body forward to connect her lips to his again. His thrusts were slow and gentle, as if not to hurt her but the second that she moved her hands down from his shoulders, and along his spine until they reached the curve of his bum, they began to speed up. YN moaned into Harry’s mouth, her nails digging into his peachy flesh.

Harry groaned into her mouth, a smile toying on his lips. As his hips started to move quicker, and hers joined him – all she could feel was him. All she could feel was his touch, his body, his love. It was all-possessing, and YN would not change it for the world.

“Harry… I’m –” YN gasped, pulling away from his lips to throw her head back in response to the pleasure he was causing her.

Once her eyes had closed, and his hips continued at their fast pace she had truly lost himself to him. At this point, there was no return for her. In a state where she did not feel truly like herself, Harry had pulled her immediately out of that. Harry watched her parted lips, her closed eyes, and her heaving chest.

She was beautiful to him and there would never, ever be a point that she was not.

“It is okay,” Harry dropped his head down so he could kiss her neck, and mumbled his words of encouragement into his ear, “It is okay, I promise you.”

YN gasped once more, her hands moving back towards his shoulders. She was sure that her nails were digging the ever-prominent crescent moons into his skin, but neither of them seemed to care at all. When she tightened around him, he groaned into her neck. It was as though neither of them could hold back on the pleasure that the other was giving, and it was enough for them.

It was as though once YN’s orgasm washed over her, Harry’s came soon after. They were always together, coaxing each other through the feeling – neither one of them moving too quickly without the other. It reminded her that whatever she needed, he was always there to help her and move her along. Whenever she tumbled, he was there to catch her.

This was love. This was the love that they deserved from one another, with one another.

Harry collapsed on top of her, moving to the side ever so gently to not squash her, but they still stayed as close to one another as they possibly could. YN smiled and accepted the light kiss that Harry placed on her lips.

“If you ever feel this way again, I want you to tell me,” Harry spoke, lifting his hand to run against her cheek lightly, “I do not want you to suffer in silence ever again.”

YN nodded lightly, “I will not.”

“I need you to promise me, YN,” Harry’s eyes were laced with concern for her now, “I love you.”

“I promise,” YN nodded, pressing another light kiss to his lips, “I love you.”  

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Mig is rutting, workplace sex, fear kink, breeding kink, intercrural sex, copious sexual fluids, oral sex, tongue play, hormone scenting, unresolved sexual tension.

Word count: 11,000 Notes: IM BACK BUT ALSO THIS IS A LONG ONE LMAO IM SORRY

Mig stuck to his word as Autumn continued to roll in.

You would be his, no matter what.

The days passed and soon Nueva York was a beautiful patchwork of dull oranges and reds, with the upper city parks creating a gorgeous spread of burnt amber grass beneath the cold sun. Mig’s own universe went much the same way, with his forest home going from a bright evergreen to a spread of dark greens and slowly melting auburn shades as the trees lost their hue. You woke every day in his nest to a new blanket of leaves coating your front door, each load bigger than the last, and soon it was clear that winter was approaching.

You were getting chillier in the mornings, even with Mig’s huge, fluffy body at your side. More and more you were relegated to sleeping beneath his folded form like a baby bird beneath its watchful parent, and at a certain point the bed was so covered in silk blankets it looked almost like a mountain.

More of your stuff from your apartment made its way in too. Your clothes, your toothbrush, your kitchen utensils, your bathroom supplies.

It was a strange mismatch. The nest was rustic, with Mig’s makeshift tools and handspun tapestries, which made all of your modern appliances look out of place. There was nothing more jarring than a portable electric toothbrush sitting next to a hand-carved wooden basin over a bamboo drip, which was your version of a sink, or your phone sitting next to the firepit he used to boil water.

It was strange, yes, but welcome. It really was beginning to feel like home.

It was just that, with home, came pressure.

Time was passing, and it was passing fast. In those sweet early months with Mig it’d felt like you had all the time in the world, but the world was proving that wrong.

You had to find a solution to your universal separation, a way to prove that you and Mig could safely cohabitate forever, and potentially have a family if you desired that in the future. If you couldn’t prove it was safe, the society couldn’t sanction it any further. They couldn’t risk anything that might cause multiverse instability.

That left only two outcomes to this relationship, but in Mig’s mind, there was only one outcome he was willing to accept, and that was success. He was beyond the curious, testing phase of the relationship, the tepid exploration of lust and companionship.

He was in love. He was madly, inescapably in love with you, and he would not let you go.

This left him in a state of feverish devotion to his work, and he spent almost all his free time in Miguel’s labs working out the calculations to a cross-universe serum. At first, he tried to bring you with him, since he missed you far too much, but that ended poorly. He felt too bad making you stay up in Miguel’s office, where you’d inevitably fall asleep from exhaustion and Miguel would have to cover you in a blanket.

So instead he started doing calculations late into the night in the nest while you slept beside him. He even started doing calculations in his sleep. You’d wake to find wall after wall covered in markings you couldn’t comprehend.

The only other hiccup in his way was that he was also totally devoted to helping Micaela and Gabriel. Much of his and Miguel’s previous work had been put to the side to focus on her, using their joint background in genetics to find a cure for her ailment.

Miguel was obviously far more concerned with protecting the existing Micaela than with securing Mig’s future, and while it frustrated you both you couldn’t exactly blame him. Micaela did come first, and he was right to prioritize her, but the uncertainty in your future was becoming a strain.

Mig wanted to start living again, to hope again. He wanted to sleep beside you knowing that you were his, forever and always, and that he wasn’t a doomed abomination. He wanted to know you’d be with him until the end.

No more lonely wailing in the woods. No more singing for a person who would never come.

He wanted to live. He wanted you. He wanted his family.

But the longer their work took, the less certain it felt. Every little re-calculation felt like a punch to the gut, and every mission or postponement felt like a weight on his back.

But you can’t stay in limbo forever.

Closure had to come eventually, one way or another.

…

‘Come on, come on…’

You struggled not to impatiently tap your foot as you peered around the line ahead. You had to crane your neck to see over the 10 or so other spiders all idly waiting for their turn at the counter.

You were waiting in line at the HQ cafeteria to get lunch for you, Miguel and Mig, something you did almost every day now as an unusual little trio. The boys, as you called them, were utterly fixated on their dual projects, and while you weren’t much use scientifically you were the one little lifeline they had left to sanity and stability.

If left to their own devices they’d science themselves into husks. This left you the task of keeping them grounded, keeping them fed, and slapping them back into reality when need be.

It was slightly grating to be around two supergeniuses all the time. Mig was a sweetheart as always, and while he could be a little annoying when he talked to you like a child, he was never condescending or mean. Miguel, on the other hand, was very condescending. He had a need to explain, a need to teach, but he had the patience of a mouse and a tendency to get sassy if you ever got anything wrong.

However, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy your time with the two. Now Miguel had cooled down he really did seem to be making a difference in his attitude, especially after meeting Gabriel and Micaela. He was short-tempered and stressed, and that would probably never change, but there was an unspoken gentleness to his attitude now. It was almost, protective.

And Mig…

Your face grew warm at the thought of him. His smile. His soft-spoken compliments. His little abdomen wriggles. His big, open, honest eyes, peering down at you as they practically dripped with affection.

Your mind wandered to his breath on your neck in the morning, when he’d blow your hair aside to kiss your forehead. That warmth grew exponentially.

Mig was always perfect. Not literally, but to you… Yes. He was perfect.

‘Hey!’

You jumped in place as someone tapped your shoulder. You spun back and forth only to realize that the line had moved three spaces ahead, and you’d been too lost in your little daydream to notice. The spiders behind you did not look impressed.

‘Sorry! Shit—just a second.’

You stammered an apology and hurried forward, trying to ignore the curious stares you get. The morbid interest in Mig’s lover never seemed to go away.

You stayed hyper-vigilant as you waited to finally reach the front of the cafeteria. You’d replayed asking for your order so many times that it practically tumbled from your lips when you reached the server, making you appear like some kind of empanada-loving robot.

As you made your way back to the office you couldn’t help but pause to admire the new décor.

The whole building was covered in dainty, slightly tacky Halloween objects, coating the walls from top to bottom. It was all in place for the Halloween party tomorrow. There were skrunkly little paper spiders hanging from the high beams, orange cut-outs of cats and pumpkins plastered to the wall.

It was almost painfully twee, but you kind of loved it. It felt authentically true to form for this place. You also knew Miguel had refused to spend any more than the absolute bare minimum on decorations out of spite, since he hated the idea of doing this in the first place. Hosting events and being considerate of members' well-being was one thing, but being drawn out of work to wear costumes was, ironically, not his forte.

Unfortunately, despite being the de-facto leader, he’d been outvoted by the other elites, along with every other Spider in the society. You’d been subjected to his rambling about this for almost a week. Luckily, he didn’t know you’d also voted to have the party.

You prodded a little cheap plastic bat that was hanging from the ceiling as you hopped from the beams into the main corridor before Miguel’s office.

You were quick as you hurried down the same familiar route; passed the Spiders crowding the hall, passed the rudimentary go-home machine, and down the darkened empty corridor filled with Miguel’s old suits and gadgets.

As you approached the door you were hit by the smell of metal and the low hum of a machine. It vibrated through your bones in the most eerie way, causing the walls around you to jitter as if moving.

You instinctively slowed down.

Shit, they were in the middle of running their experiments again.

You crept up to the entrance to Miguel’s office and carefully nudged the door aside, being careful not to dip in any further. You didn’t want to startle them.

‘Pressure at 53%’

Lyla’s voice floated out from beneath the eerie hum as you peeked around the doorway. The office was usually dark, awash with cold navy light and the dull orange glow of Miguel’s monitors, but right now it was alight with an almost supernatural glow emanating from its center. It cast odd shadows across the walls and floors, like hands sneaking up to grasp you.

‘Lyla! Speed it up.’

‘Pressure at 73%. I’m going as fast as I can!’

That was Miguel’s voice, you thought. It was nearly identical to Mig’s but you knew them both well enough now to pick them apart. You peered a little further into the room.

‘Qué chingada… Come on.’

Mig hissed a few more curses under his breath as his abdomen rustled.  

He’d bent his front legs like a horse so he could grasp the computer with both hands, and he was right on the verge of physically shaking it. Every

He was so close, so damn close. He’d gotten the formula down to a predicted 3% success rate, and if he could just get a few more test runs in, he’d have it. He’d have you.

‘Alright! Are you ready?’

Miguel called down to Mig from his floating office. He had to about halfway in the air, allowing him to look down on Mig as he ran some sort of experiment.

You could see the enormous table they were always huddled around, covered in glass jars and holographic screens all flashing with a million numbers at once. As you sank against the door frame, you noticed that the crackling was getting louder.

‘Pressure at 89%. Almost there.’

You could see something starting to spin on the table, creating a whirring noise akin to a helicopter’s blades. The sound was triggering every instinct in your body to run, to hide, and you had to fight yourself just to continue watching.

‘Hold it steady!’

‘I’m holding steady.’

The light expanded until you were forced to squint and pull away, hiding yourself behind the door. The sound was unbearably loud, the whirring grating on your ears as the light grew brighter and brighter.

‘Pressure at 98%...’

‘99%’

‘100%!’

And then—

A crackle filled the room and the light dimmed in a single split second, leaving the room in darkness. You had to wipe your eyes to adjust to the dimness. Everything smelled like hot metal, and you could see smoke drifting up into the rafters of the office.

‘Serum stability at 99%’ Lyla’s voice called out, followed by a sharp bark of a growl.

‘ARGH!’

Mig pulled back and kicked one of the loose chairs right into the wall, almost totally obliterating it with the faintest display of aggression. ‘¡Jueputa! Chingada Madre!’

As the low whirring of the machine dulled, he began to pace, his spider legs scuttling back and forth. His abdomen was shaking dangerously, that much you could see. He had his head in his hands and seemed to be trying his hardest to not lose his temper any further.

You felt your heart sink a little in your chest at the sight.

Miguel was cursing beneath his breath as he put out the fire. ‘God damn it… Lyla, what keeps going wrong?!’

‘It’s just routine checks, Miguel. It’s totally normal.’ 

‘We’ve been stuck at 99% for a week!’ Miguel barked back, ignoring Lyla’s slightly snarky tone.

‘99% is good! That’s better odds than your watch had when you tried it out’ she argued back. You could faintly see her hologram floating in the air beside them, pacing back and forth across the open air. Miguel bitterly waved his hand through her digital form.

‘Yeah, and I was stupid to do so. I can’t approve it until it's 100%.’

‘Maybe the calculations are off’ Mig murmured to himself. You saw him drop back down to the computer again, grasping at its mass like it was a person who he could shake sense into.

‘My calculations aren’t off!’ Miguel snapped back in a slightly harsher tone. ‘I know what I’m doing!’

You could see the tension rising. They’d just keep getting more and more irritable if they remained fixated on their work. You decided now was the time to step in.

With a huff you pushed the office door aside and bellowed towards them. ‘Hey! Come on guys, break time!’

The sound of you voice drew Mig to snap and turn, a motion so inhumanly fast he nearly wrenched the entire computer apart from with his hands. Miguel had to step in and shove him off just to salvage it.

‘¡Tonto! Ah, ten cuidado’ Miguel snapped under his breath, though Mig heard none of it. He didn’t even respond when Miguel elbowed him away.

He was fixed on you, watching you run down the corridor towards him. The way you smiled, the way you bounced as you sped up. He couldn’t stop his abdomen rustling and vibrating with a deep, profound sense of joy. Miguel noticed that too and promptly rolled his eyes.

‘Miggy!’

You squeaked and jumped up into his arms, with the enormous spider catching you with instinctive prowess. He drew you up to his chest and held you like a large cat.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred. ‘I missed you.’

‘They were gone for 15 minutes’ Miguel sarcastically replied.

‘I know’ Mig replied, his big crimson eyes still fixed on you. He kept tilting his head to get a better angle of your face, deliberately staring until you got flustered and tried to look away. You could feel him nosing at your hands as you covered yourself. Your quiet giggling was almost addictive to him.

‘It was still too long…’ Mig whispered against your fingers. ‘Too long…’

‘Still too long— Alright! Come on, computers finished that round. We can break.’ Miguel grunted and pushed the computer aside as he stood, his hands outstretched. ‘Can I eat, then? Or did you forget about me?’

You pulled back your hands and peered down at Miguel. ‘Forget? What? I wouldn’t forget about you.’

‘Ahuh. What about—’

‘Oh my god—I forgot your lunch order ONE time!’ you cried, cutting him off before he could bring up the same story he always brought up. Despite himself, Miguel’s lips did tilt into a slight smile.

‘Exactly. Once. And you could do it again’ he replied in a slightly snarkier tone. You huffed and threw his box of empanadas at his chest, which he caught mid-air with his webs.

‘You went—you were on a mission twice—’

‘Ahuh, ahuh—’

‘So, I had to remember to NOT get your order—’

‘Yep, keep digging that grave—’

‘I had to remember to NOT get your order the second time, because you sent that memo saying it was wasteful to leave your food, and then the third time you didn’t DIRECTLY tell me you wouldn’t be on a mission, so I didn’t have it there! I am not in the wrong!’

You burnt your throat out while rambling off your excuse. Miguel just kept trying to hide his growing smile of endearment as he webbed his way up to his floating desk, leaving you and Mig to sit beneath him.

‘It’s not my job to babysit you. If you can’t check the schedule that’s something for you to fix, not me. Consider it… character building’ Miguel replied smoothly.

‘Next time I won’t get it deliberately’ you huffed, before reaching into the bag and giving Mig his order. He purred as he took it. ‘At least you’re grateful, Miggy’ you mumbled, which caused him to purr even louder.

‘Always, arañita.’

As Mig folded his legs and settled down on the floor you sat at the front of his abdomen, snuggling into his fur with your meal resting on your folded legs. You could hear Miguel grunting with barely suppressed pleasure as he started eating above you.

Mig paused then as his watch buzzed. He glanced down and awkwardly tapped it at with his huge claws until he finally got it to recognize his touch.

‘Mm? It is—Oh!’

Mig’s face lit up into a smile as a hologram flashed up from his watch, revealing a line of text and a blurry picture. You tilted your head out of curiosity.

‘Hm? What's up?’

‘It’s ah- Gabriel. I’ve been re-learning how to text so that we may, converse, more easily, and he has sent me a picture of Micaela.’ Mig sounded so proud as he spoke, and his eyes as they flitted over the picture were deeply endeared. It filled you with joy to see him looking so comfortable.

‘Oh! That’s nice, that’s good. I’m glad you’re properly keeping in touch now. What’d he say?’

‘Mm! Well, last night he was telling me about how bad the hospital food is. I offered to send him some of my deer meat, which he seemed to find humorous, and today he has sent me a picture of his mates cooking and—’

‘They don’t use mate, Mig, that’s his wife’ Miguel added.

‘Wife. Yes. I forget… Ah, his mate- wife¸ gave him food to sneak into the hospital, and he has sent me a picture of him eating it with Micaelita.’

He glanced at the photo for the second time as he spoke, and the sight caused him to purr all over again. He’d only known his baby niece for a few months now, but he truly loved that little girl. He had an outlet at last for all his pent-up paternal instinct, and seeing her happy brought him so much joy.

‘How is the um- I mean I guess, sensitive subject to bring up, but… How is the serum going?’ you asked.

‘Well, Micaela’s stuff is almost fully done’ Miguel replied. Mig was too busy trying to catch an unseemly long bit of cheese now dangling between his mouth and his empanada to speak, so his variant took over with a slightly exasperated sigh.

‘Luckily, we buckled down and, Lyla did a lot of the work. Scanning the multiverse for somewhere with more advanced medicine was pretty easy, unfortunately the place we found with the right equipment does not have a Spider-man in it for easy contact.’

‘Did you need to go there to get it, though?’ you asked. You were trying to listen while also teasingly nipping in to steal from Mig’s string of cheese, something he found both adorable and aggravating.

‘Luckily again for us, uh—no. Not really. We scanned a few computers and managed to replicate it here’ Miguel explained. ‘Micaela should be just fine.’

‘Yes! But, it means we’re behind on the solution for us’ Mig said as he finally swallowed his food. ‘Which, we are trying to resolve, right?’

‘Jess is getting antsy’ Miguel remarked, more to himself than to you or Mig. He was picking at his own empanada bit by bit, taking off little chunks which he then threw into his mouth and slowly chewed between his fangs. He chewed his food like nicotine gum, as if he was in constant deep thought. ‘Everyone is. Especially with the anomalies getting worse.’

‘I mean… that’s not, our fault, right?’ you said.

Miguel didn’t reply for a moment. He stared into the distance before double-taking at you, almost as if taken by surprise. ‘What? No. No, it’s your fault. It’s… we’re not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But, it’s not you.’

‘Oh… Good.’ You weren’t sure you believed him, but you also weren’t willing to press the issue. ‘But, um—I mean regardless it’ll be okay, right? We’re, getting close?’

To your relief, Miguel did nod as he swallowed his last bite of empanada. ‘Mhm. Mm… Yeah. I think it should be finished soon, if we can just complete the last checks.’

‘Checks?’

‘The stabilization test-runs’ Mig said. He’d finally finished his meal as was now paying very close attention to you, ensuring you continued to eat in between asking questions. He’d grab or gently nudge your hand up to your face to ensure you took bites. He was fussy, yes, but very sweet.

‘De-stabilization, huh? Sounds scary’ you added between quick bites of your sandwich.

‘Catastrophic’ Miguel corrected.

‘Not—necessarily’ Mig said as he wiped crumbs from your face. ‘All it means, is that we need to ensure the serum won’t de-stabilize and cause any anomalous activities or holes when used. We’re delicately re-organizing multiverse DNA, but, we are handling it with utmost care.’

‘You don’t need to convince me, Miggy, I believe you’ you snorted back.

Mig opened his mouth to speak again when a low beep drew his attention away. It was Miguel’s watch, most likely a message, and whatever it was had turned his contented expression into a deeply sour one.

‘Ah… Mierda. So stupid.’

He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped from his office back down to the floor, landing with a dull thud.

‘What’s up?’ you called over.

‘It’s Jess. It’s this Halloween party, ah—I didn’t even vote for it! But I’m the leader, apparently, of course I only become leader when it suits them—’

You paused Miguel mid-rant by snapping your fingers. ‘Miguel! Come on, to the point. You’re rambling.’

‘Ay, don’t be rude. What I meant to say, then, is apparently I have to go approve these new decorations. I’ll be back soon, we’ll finish the second test run when I’m done.’

Miguel had begun walking before you could even think to say anything else, so you and Mig just resorted to waving him off with a soft ‘bye!’. He shot you a deflated thumbs up over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

Silence fell in the wake of his departure, and for the first time you were alone with Miguel. All you could hear in the office was Mig’s thudding heart and his slow, rhythmic breathing against your scalp.

‘Arañita?’

You blinked and leaned back against his abdomen until his face came into view. His eyes were wide, and as they watched you awkwardly blowing his fluff out of your eyes, they dilated. ‘I didn’t get to mention, this morning…’ He paused and swallowed. ‘You look, radiant today, mi amor. You look very, pretty.’

The second those words left his mouth you broke out into a dumb little smile. You tried to look away, but Mig was quick to catch your chin with his claw, forcing you to hold his gaze. His eyes softened.

‘No, no. Don’t deny it. I know you want to.’

‘Miggy…’

‘That is not to say that you don’t always look pleasing. You do. But I wanted to tell you today. I feel I don’t tell you enough.’

‘You make it more than clear how you feel about me, Mig’ you whispered back. His fur was warm and sweet on your cheek, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into it. ‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘Mm… But I will, mi amor’ he whispered back. God, he loved saying that. He’d say it all day every day if given half the chance. ‘Mi amor, you are such a beautiful creature. I am grateful every second of every day that I have you as my mate.’

You felt the heat in your cheeks growing in tandem with the lightness in your chest. You squealed internally as he smiled down at you, his face filled with open, honest sincerity. ‘Yeah, well… I could say the same about you too, so… you know’ you murmured. His eyes narrowed with barely suppressed joy.

‘Do I know?’

‘You… Yes, but—Okay. You are also, a beautiful creature, and I am extremely grateful every millisecond of every day that I met you’ you replied with a teasing jab. He chuckled, and when you chuckled back, he bent his torso down to meet your own.

‘I missed you’ Mig whispered. You could feel him nosing at your hair as he spoke, taking deep and lingering breaths around the crown of your head.

‘I missed you too, Mig’ you whispered back. The warmth of his fur was nice on your back as you leaned into him, relishing the small moment of peace and quiet. You could hear nothing but a distant beep of some nebulous electronics and the soft, deep breaths Mig was savoring above you. You could tell he was huffing your scent.

‘You, uh… you sure are smelling me a lot, lately’ you said. The break in silence and the bluntness of the question caused Mig’s eyes to shoot open.

‘… I am?’

‘Mhm.’

‘As in, more than usual?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Oh, I—I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘No! No, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean it was an issue. I just…’

You slowly rolled your head back to catch his gaze, only to wind up nose to nose with him. You felt his breath on your lips as you both locked eyes. The warmth, the proximity, it made something familiar in your gut tighten and twist.

Mig purred. ‘Then, how did you mean it, arañita?’ he whispered.

You felt that sweet tightness in your gut twisting tighter, and without even thinking your thighs squished together. Mig’s eyes darted down, catching that tiny act, before sliding back up and narrowing ever so slightly. He let you catch his tongue slipping out to slide along his lower lip.

‘I meant, ah… I meant, I just, noticed it. It—it’s usually a sign that, something else is going on, you know?’ you stammered back.

‘I know what you’re referring to, mi arañita’ he murmured back. ‘Are you implying I might be heading into a rut?’

‘Well… I wouldn’t, dare, assume, but…’

You felt your breath starting to catch as your heart rate sped up, matching the steady rhythm of his own thundering beat. You could see his eyelids drooping, his abdomen gently jerking back and forth like a dog wagging its tail.

The growing heat was physically palpable. It was like the sun on your skin, itchy and hot. ‘We’re in the office’ you whispered softly. You’d both drifted so close now that you could feel his lips on your own. Mig was panting, breathing in you, verging right on the edge of snapping you up and eating you whole.

‘Yes…’

‘Mig… W-We’re in the HQ, we—’

‘We’re in the office…’

Mig pressed one sweet, tender kiss against your lower lip, but he lingered just long enough to let you know that, if he could, he’d have bitten down on that lip in a second. You stammered out a shaky whine in response.

‘Mig, we can’t.’

‘Do you want to go back to the nest?’

‘What if Miguel comes back? We need to—finish the, stupid work—’

‘Then here.’

‘Mig—’

You paused your soft whispering to kiss for the second time. It was almost reflexive, with your lips losing focus and going against your better judgement to press up against his. You’d kiss once and then pause, as you both brushed against the realm of better judgement for a fleeting second, only to kiss each other once more.

Soft then hard, lingering and passionate, tasting him for just a second until it got too painful to not kiss him again.

‘Mm—Mig, mm—’

‘Arañita…’

You felt his tongue slip out and obediently parted your lips, letting your tongues wind between your barely open mouths. You could taste his breath, you could feel the heat brewing in him as he tried to slip into your open maw. At this point your skin was burning, and worst of all, you could feel your clit throbbing like a second heartbeat.

You were a shivering, burning mess. You’d gone too far.

‘Miggy— Mm… Miggy, come on—’

‘Arañita…’

‘If, Miguel comes back—’

As you withdrew from the kiss Mig moved closer, gripping your waist with his thick, heavy claws so you couldn’t pull away. He didn’t kiss you, but he did press his lips to your nose, and there he spoke again.

‘Don’t make me chase you, arañita.’

Those sweet, husky words whispering against your skin made you shudder. It was enough to make your insides clench and quiver, and Mig knew it.

‘F-Fuck, god damn it… hah… mm. Okay. You wanna play like that?’

You stealthily shifted your suit down by just the pants, taking your underwear with it. Not enough to be naked, but enough to get Mig hooked in the sweet scent you knew would drive him crazy. Just as planned, the moment your underwear went past that navel line, his pupils dilated.

‘Mm… arañita… You smell, delicious…’

He lowered his head with a speed and strength you knew you couldn’t match, but he did relinquish his grip on your waist to do so. You let him bury his nose between your thighs, slipping right into the little defined curve where your suit met your pussy lips, and he huffed like a madman.

‘Mmm… qué rico, mi arañita hermoso/a…’

He whined the words directly against your clothed cunt, letting you feel his lips and tongue moving against every ridge and inch he could get. You were sure that if you let him linger any longer he’d rip the fabric with his fangs and have himself a little dessert, and while part of you desperately wanted to let him, that wasn’t the plan.

You grabbed his hair and pulled, letting him get as pussy drunk as you could allow without fully tipping him over the edge.

‘Good boy, good, good boy…’

You held him there just long enough, until his spider legs were tapping that familiar mating rhythm and his abdomen was shaking with feverish intent, and then—

‘Catch me, big boy.’

You whispered those words before webbing yourself out of his grip, flying over his abdomen and landing squarely on the office floor behind him. You saw his claws grasping to try and catch you, but he was too late. You’d escaped.

He spun around just in time to see you hurrying into the dark corners of Miguel’s office. He hungrily growled. ‘Oh, arañita… Okay. We’ll play that game then.’ He licked the little traces of your scent from his upper lip, and he gave chase.

You webbed your way into the darkness and crouched down behind a pile of forgotten electronics, moving stealthily on four legs to avoid being seen. You could faintly see Miguel’s shadow as he moved through the office and toward your location. As he abandoned the light his eyes began to glow, illuminating the shape of his spindly legs with an eerie red outline.

‘Mi tesoro?’

The adrenaline was thick. You knew that it was just your sweet, gentle Mig roaming after you, but that didn’t stop the sweet, controlled dose of fear that you got whenever you played hide and seek with that enormous, skulking spider.

‘Naughty arañita… You like playing at this, don’t you?’

Mig purred softly as he crept around the edge of the lab. His paws were quiet underfoot, carefully padded to keep even his enormous body nearly entirely silent.

‘You like playing at being prey… So cute. You know what’ll happen when I catch you… Does that excite you, arañita? That I will rip those pretty clothes off and mate with you the moment you’re in my paws? Are you thinking about it right now?’

The echo of his voice drove you lower to the floor. You could hear him getting closer, but your cover was running out, and if you raised your head he’d surely see you and pounce. You didn’t want the fun to be over that quickly.

You began to back up instead, shifting along the wall until you found an opening. It felt like a door of some kind, and as you carefully, carefully creaked it open, you realized that you’d found an old, unused closet in the back of Miguel’s space.

‘Arañita…’

Miguel’s hungry, husky groan filled the air, alongside an animalistic rustling. It sounded like a rug being shaken out, or a rattlesnake, but you knew better. That was his abdomen prepping for his mating ritual.

You subdued your own shiver of excitement and slipped into the closet.

In here it was pitch black. You could feel the dust on the floor, betraying just how old this space was, and the trickle of light peaking in through the door wasn’t enough to go more than an inch into the closet’s depths.

You were forced to blindly shuffle until your hands hit a wall, forcing you to turn and shuffle backward until you met the same fate. Eventually, you stopped moving altogether, realizing that it was pointless, and resigned yourself to cowering in the dark like a rabbit.

You couldn’t hear Mig in here. Either that, or he’d stopped taunting completely.

It was terrifying how quiet he was. For something so big his soft paws muffled any sound he might have made, allowing him to move with little to no noise. He was a real predator, a creature at the top of his theoretical food chain, and you often forgot that yourself.

In the dark you waited, listening to your own heart hammering in your chest. You could feel the cold creeping up on you in here, giving you goosebumps on your arms. You felt the strain of the concrete floor on your knees.

But that wasn’t all you felt.

A heavy, overwhelming presence had abruptly settled against your back, and now something hot, warm and wet was sliding up your nape to the base of your skull. Instinctively your body tensed, but then you felt it again, and in a second that primal fear disappeared.

It was Mig’s tongue. He was licking your nape, tasting your scent with your highly adapted senses. He’d move in shyly, lapping once or twice, before nuzzling his nose into the thick of your hair and starting the cycle all over again.

‘I caught you, arañita.’

Your body began to relax. You felt his claws fondling your chest and rear in the darkness, squeezing your ass until his claws left a little imprint. His lips, too continued to grope at your nape, licking and nipping the skin until it bruised.

‘You know what that means.’

You let out a low groan. Between the fear, the heat, and now the dark, cramped space you’d been trapped in, there was no turning back now.

‘Mm… O-Okay, you win. Just… just a little…’

It took very little convincing for you to turn around and smash your lip into his. This time you didn’t hesitate before opening your mouth for him to explore, letting his huge, warm tongue slide into your mouth. He wound his tongue around your own, tasting your scent, your moans, everything he could get.

‘Mm… arañita…’

His hands began creeping up and down your body, squishing lightly at your belly and waist. He loved feeling the way your flesh moved beneath his fingers, how frail your ribs felt under his claws. He deepened the kiss.

‘Mm…’

You could feel that Mig was already getting erect. In the pitch black you could only rely on touch to sense any changes, and you could feel his soft phallus slowly beginning to peek out from the slit in his abdomen. It was twitching against your belly.

The kissing just barely muffled your sounds as you tried to speak. ‘Mm… Mm.. I-I can’t, get fully naked, but—’

‘Why not?’

‘Mmm—’

With a soft moan you broke the kiss, leaving the two of you panting into each other’s mouths. ‘I need to- be able to re-suit quickly if anyone comes in, you beautiful idiot.’

Without another word you shifted your suit pants down to the middle of your thighs, leaving just enough bare room for Miguel to slip himself between your legs. His eyes dilated at the sight.

‘Oh… r-right. Hah. Right…’ Mig purred as he grabbed your body and spun it around, bracing you in a slightly tilted position. He braced himself with his hands on either side of the closet walls, and with the bare minimum delicacy he could muster, he began to buck himself in.

‘C-Careful… just, s-stay still. I’ll be quick.’

He started thrusting, shifting his cock in the darkness as he searched for his prize. You felt that bulbous tip nudged at your back, then your ass, before slowly making its way down to the warm, sweet space beneath.

You bit your lip and braced yourself, internally prepping for the pressure. He paused, angled, and thrust.

However, he missed.

‘Ah! F-Fuck—’

In his haste, he slid right past your cunt. His cock was so big that it slid right between your thighs, settling between your pussy lips with a full handful of member poking out the other side. It almost made you dizzy, remembering that you so frequently let such a beast of a shaft inside you.

Mig groaned at your back and began slowly humping at your clenched thighs, shifting his plush phallus back and forth.

‘Mm… S-So, warm…’

You were quickly coated in thick, sticky pre-cum and your own slick as he began to thrust faster and faster, riding out his frustration. He was too eager to even stop and try to enter you properly. This would have to do.

With one hand over your mouth and the other bracing your body to the wall, you let Miguel rut his cock between your thighs, eagerly fucking them and your clit raw.

There was only one thought in your heads:

More. More…

You coyly grabbed the little bit of shaft slipping out the other side of your thighs and began to manually pump it with your fist, relishing in the warmth and the slipperiness against your palm.

‘A-Ah, arañita…’

Mig moaned your nickname into your hair as he continued rutting against your back, the double stimulation driving him absolutely mad. You were beside yourself as he continued grinding that soft, plush, velvety shaft up against your clit, using your slick as lubricant to slide a little easier.

MORE. MORE.

You bent forward and down, contorting yourself so that you could hungrily lap at your member. Mig barely stifled his predatory groans.

‘A-Arañita, ah—c-careful—!’

You slurped at his member until you could just about get a little of it between your lips, and while he continued furiously pumping between your thighs you began sucking on the tip. It was weirdly sweet, as always, though not in a sickly way. It was thick and slightly earthy, like raw, natural honey, and it soon coated your tongue in that sticky white fluid.

Mig, at this point, was losing his mind. He dug his claws into your hips to hold you steady as he began bucking without rhythm, driving himself into every crevice of your body he could.

‘Hah- o-okay, good arañita. G-Good. That’s it, lick it up.’

You allowed him to thrust between your parted lips and groaned. Mig was left breathlessly humping, with one hand still dug into your side and the other tenderly petting your hip as he rode out his frustrations into your mouth and between your legs.

‘Good, there you go. There you go. Mm… Así así, arañita, estás haciendo un buen trabajo.’

His sweet praise helped to ease the pain in your jaw as you took more of him in. The plush, squishiness of his cock made it easier to mouth and suck, but there was just so much of it. You were choking on the tip.

Luckily, Mig could only handle so much. He was utterly overstimulated, between the beautiful sensation of your lips and tongue on his member and the warmth and wetness of your thighs, topped off with the sight of you bent over and taking him from all angles—

‘Ah! Bájale, bájale, arañita.’

He pulled back and began patting your hip for clemency as your lips nearly drew him to a violent impromptu orgasm. You gasped as he withdrew. You were panting hard, slightly dazed from the pleasure and the blood rush to the head, your lips now a mess of saliva and pre-cum. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel the little trail of fluid hanging between your lips and Miguel’s twitching member.

‘Ah… h-huh?’ you mumbled. ‘W-What?’

Mig had to tilt you back to an upright position himself, and there he hugged you close while still slowly pumping between your thighs.

‘Shh, that’s it arañita. You did so good. Just rest now, treasure, let me do the work.’

‘Mm… But—’

‘Let me do the work.’

He repeated those words in a sweet, cooing manner, drawing you to relax in his grip. It was easy to give in, especially with his shaft still gently massaging your swollen clit.

He wanted to focus on you now.

He drew back and began carefully thrusting at just the right angle, probing his hot and now very wet member was pressed right up to your clit. The sensation was hard to describe. All you knew is that you weren’t going to last long like this.

‘Ah… M-Mig, fuck…’

He kept you stabilized with his arms, allowing you to focus on just the pleasure of his movement.

‘You smell so good’ he moaned directly into your ear. ‘So good, arañita. I’d eat you up if I could. My beautiful, beautiful little spider. So—f-fucking, soft—’

He groaned out loud as he started to speed up, frantically squishing and grinding every inch of his cock between your lips. You could hear the manic, wet squelching of your own slick being papped back and forth by his movements, a soft ‘thwap’ that was getting louder and louder.

‘M-Mig—’

‘Mm, so soft, want you—covered in seed—’

‘Mig!’

‘Stuffed, s-stuffed with it. Stuff with my cum. Pretty little spider, full of my babies, full of my e-eggs—’

You tried to warn him, but Mig was too wrapped up in his own manic, heat-induced fantasy to notice. He was dizzy with the thought of web-knotting you, imagining his cock sliding right up to your cervix and then being webbed into place so none of his seed would spill. He was imagining you swollen with his offspring and resting in his silk den, his perfect little mate for life, fulfilling all of his desires.

You had no chance of stopping him, so you did the only thing you could do: you shuddered and orgasmed all over his shaft.

It was your barely muffled scream of pleasure that finally jolted him back to reality, and back to the gorgeous sight of your body trembling and spasming as it throbbed all over his member. He audibly gasped and twitched, letting his cock throb right back as he milked you for all the slick you would offer.

When your knees began to shake, he held you in place. Your weight was nothing to him. No matter what you weighed, with his size, he could have carried you like a kitten.

‘Mi amor’ he cooed into your hair. ‘Mi amor, mi amor… So beautiful. What a beautiful sight.’

‘Hah… f-fuck, uh… I-I can, barely feel my legs’ you panted back.

‘Shh. I’m here. You did so good, arañita.’

‘I-I didn’t, do anything, mi amor, I just… came’ you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

‘You did more than enough’ Mig purred sweetly. He took the chance to slide two fingers down between your lips and around your clit, letting your slick accumulate on his claws. Your body jerked at the sudden rush of stimulation.

‘Ah—’

‘More than enough. I’d pay to watch you do that again.’ Mig kissed your forehead as he slid his fingers back up and pressed them to his lips. You heard him licking them clean.

‘But I’ll take my payment another way, I think.’

You let out a shaky groan as he moved your body back into position. He was lining himself up again, and this time, he wasn’t going to miss.

You could feel his thick member pulsing at your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin before its final penetration. He’d rock himself a few times, shifting just an inch in before pulling back out, just enough to make that sweet squelching pop ring out. He could picture it now: the sweet feeling of your cunt enveloping every inch of him, welcoming him in, squeezing the life out of him as you moaned his name.

His name. His mate. His.

‘That’s it, arañita, are you ready for me?’

‘Y-Yes, yes—fuck, please Mig—’

‘You want it?’

He bucked closer, preparing to push in. You cried out.

‘Yes, fuck, please!’

‘You want it?’

‘Yes!’

‘You want—’

‘Hey! Mig?’

Miguel’s voice echoing through the halls drew you both to an abrupt and awkward halt. God damn it.

Mig tried to force himself to push through it, with the animal half of his brain wanting to just ignore the call of his variant, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He slowly rocked to a stop and, with great reluctance, yanked his cock out from between your thighs.

‘Ah, my mistake… We got carried away again, didn’t we? Come here, mi amor. Let’s calm you down.’

He whispered those soft words into your hair as he yanked your body up and into his arms. He began applying as much desperate aftercare as he could; stroking your hair, kissing your neck and cheeks, stroking over and gently rubbing your muscles until the weakness in them subsided.

He held you with the utmost care while you struggled to recover from your orgasm. It was a big ask to compartmentalize all of the sweet arousal you’d just barely tasted.

‘Mig, you… b-but you didn’t fini—’

‘I’ll be fine, arañita’ Mig whispered. He was already carefully concealing his erection, letting it subside back into the little slot in which it was usually hidden. He was sweating from the strain, yes, but he had some control.

‘Mig, the rut—’

‘I have your slick covering my phallus with your scent’ he very bluntly murmured into the curve of your ear, causing you to shiver. ‘I wreak of you, arañita. That is enough for me right now. At least… It will tide me over, until I can get you home properly.’

You managed a small, slightly breathy giggle. ‘And then I’ll be your little cum dumpster, huh?’ you teased back. Mig purred.

‘You will be a good mate’ he whispered, ‘and you will do your duty by me, I’m sure.’

‘And that duty is?’

He leaned closer, gently nipping your earlobe. ‘Being, as you so brazenly put it, my little cum dumpster.’

You may have given in and fucked him right there in the closet space if Miguel hadn’t called out once more, drawing you back to the present.

‘Hey! Mig?’

You both gave a slightly similar sigh. You knew this was your own doing, and you couldn’t exactly be mad at Miguel. You just couldn’t wait for this stupid serum to be done.

‘Alright, come on. Let’s go get back to work’ you whispered. Without another word you began frantically pulling your suit back into place, and once you were both relatively dressed and presentable you silently crept back out into the main officer together.

‘Mig?! Ay! Are you—Oh. Oh… ¡Ey, que la chingada!’

Miguel raised both hands to his face as you both sheepishly appeared from behind the loose paneling. He didn’t need to ask what you were doing.

‘In my office!’ he snapped. ‘My office— Dios Mio… It’s going to smell, in here, for- hours, if not days!’

‘No, it’s not’ you called back as you hurried over. ‘Calm down.’

‘DON’T—Don’t, tell me to calm down, YOU did this!’ he seethed.

‘We’re—it’s, stressful, with the heat, and- we are very sorry, I swear’ you hissed as you finally caught up to him. Mig remained sheepishly stone-faced at your back.

‘I’m stressed too!’ Miguel replied just as sharply. ‘¿Y que hay de mi? Eh? Nobodies around to relieve my stress, but you don’t see me complaining!’

You and Mig both blinked and glanced at each other before turning back to Miguel in near unison, all while he continued to heave his chest in righteous indignation. You allowed the silence to continue just long enough to make his eyes dart a little.

‘… What? Why are you staring at me like that?’ he hissed.

‘… I mean, are you asking to be involved?’ you replied bluntly. You just barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle as he blanked. The way his eyes widened, the way his lips drew back to flash his fangs in a mixture of intrigue, disgust and confusion. You knew your response would create that exact reaction, but it was funnier to fix him with a neutral expression as he scoffed.

‘You- no!’ he snapped back. ‘No, I wasn’t- no! No!’

‘Are you sure?’ you asked. As you spoke you coyly leaned forward, noting the way his eyes darted over your body. He was forced to physically turn his back on you to avoid being accused of anything unseemly.

‘Tienes una mente bien cochambrosa’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘Look, whatever traits me and him might share, there is one big goddamn difference, and that’s that I’m not a massive pervert.’

‘Aw, but you’re stressed, like you said! Come on, lemme help.’ You continued your teasing as you took a few steps closer. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your little tiptoe motion, and like a frightened deer he stumbled away.

‘What- no!’

‘Yeah, come on! I’ll help you out’ you cooed, your hands stretching out to grab him. He took another step back.

‘What are you- has the heat melted your brain or something?’

Miguel was getting more and more heated as you crept towards him, his irritation betraying the little auburn glow in his eyes and cheeks. Your eyes crinkled with joy; you could practically smell his inner thoughts, and he could definitely smell you.

‘Come ‘ere, Miggy’ you cooed again. 

‘No! I will- I will subdue you! I’m warning you!’ he hissed, which only made you giggle more. You continued forward, and with each step you took Miguel scurried in the opposite direction. It was almost absurd to see that enormous, terrifying hybrid of a man fleeing from you in circles around his office, like a kitten chasing a guard dog.

‘I’m serious! If you don’t stop—’

‘Come on, come here!’

‘YOU- Hey, pendejo! Control your- mate!’

Miguel made a desperate plea to Mig as you both sped around his body, but Mig was enjoying himself at this point. ‘They are correct. You did say you were stressed’ he purred back, which caused Miguel to sneer at him.

‘MIG!’

With a grunt of exasperation Miguel sank his claws into the wall and began frantically climbing, forgetting that you could use your webs to follow. You pursued him up into the rafters and back down again, all while Mig watched with a smile on his face and his hands clasped in his lap.

You knew Miguel could have genuinely ended the chase immediately. He could have used a light cage, a web, anything really, but he didn’t. He let you chase him until you were exhausted, too tired to even finish swinging from the web you’d slung, and only then did he grab you by the nape and carry you back down himself.

He handed you over to Miguel like a stray cat, unceremoniously dumping you into his lap.

‘You are both a strain on my existence, and if I could I would have you both exiled to a barren universe where nobody would ever hear from you again’ he said in a totally deadpan voice, which only drove you into another fit of breathless giggling. Mig, too, chuckled a little in response.

‘No, come on. You love us’ you cooed back.

‘I hate you both. Sincerely. With absolute determination, in every universe.’

‘No, don’t lie! You love us!’

‘Dios mio— Alright. You, you—’ Miguel said, pausing just to point his claw in your face. ‘Yes, you, go help Jess with the Halloween party.’

‘What?! But—’

‘You are distracting my co-worker’ Miguel slowly repeated, cutting off any excuse you might have made. ‘You can mess around after our work is done. So, you know what? You’re taking over my Halloween duties. Got that?’

You instinctively shot Mig a look, expecting him to argue on your behalf, but the moment you locked eyes you realized he was technically right. Mig wanted you, badly, but he wanted to finish his work too. After a moment of silent conversation, you relented.

‘Alright’ you sighed, ‘alright, fine. I’ll go do the stupid party work.’

‘Good. Thank you’ Miguel said, though he clearly tacked the apology onto the end at the last minute. You took it regardless.

‘Actually, that means I can go get my costume’ you mused as you grabbed up your bags. ‘I’ll come show it to you later, you’re gonna LOVE it!’

‘I’m sure I will, arañita. Be careful’ Mig hummed back.

You reluctantly bumped foreheads with him, giving each other a very quick kiss to avoid starting up any more unwanted urges, and with that you hurried out of the room to go find Jess.

Mig watched you go with a slightly melancholic expression. He was doing a good job of hiding how badly he wanted you, how painful the rut was as it went unfulfilled, but he was less adept at hiding how much he missed you in general. He pined openly as he stared at the empty space where you’d been.

‘Come on, back to work’ Miguel snapped over his shoulder. He tossed him a pair of safety glasses to snap him back to reality, and after watching the enormous spider struggle to catch them he slipped on his own.

Mig paused and glanced between the glasses and the empty doorway, but he only allowed himself a moment to disassociate. After a few seconds of thought he obediently slipped the glasses on and got back into position at the desk.

‘Yes, sir.’

The two managed to work in silence for about a half hour, but there was a strange tension in the air that was hard to place. They were struggling to focus on their calculations or on the prep required to run the next test. Despite their attempts to hunker down and focus, it seemed inevitable that one of them would break the silence.

‘… You okay?’

It was Miguel who spoke first. Mig paused on his calculations and turned to glance at his counterpart, carefully shifting his glasses down so he could see him better.

‘Me?’

‘Yep. You’re the only one here, bud.’

‘… Yes. I am, fine’ Mig replied cautiously. ‘Are you, okay?’

‘Mhm.’

‘… Why do you ask?’

Miguel grunted and withdrew after soldering a single piece of metal together. He, too, raised his glasses, and fixed Mig with a veiled glare. ‘… I mean you were, copulating in my office’ he said bluntly.

‘… Ah. Right. Yes. I—Should apologize for that, I suppose’ Mig mumbled. He didn’t drop his eyes the same way you did, but he looked bashful enough to seem sincere. ‘I swear it was not personal, this time, I wasn’t trying to—’

‘Yeah, I know’ Miguel sighed. ‘You’re just two stupid rabbits. I got it.’

Mig didn’t reply. He held onto that silence for a minute or so more before Miguel spoke again.

‘… Three, stupid rabbits. I know I can’t keep discounting myself.’

‘Mm. I do not, blame you for discounting yourself. I know our nature is frowned upon’ Mig replied in a kinder tone, one that irritated Miguel. He couldn’t stand Mig’s gentle nature. He knew, deep down, he didn’t deserve it.

‘Let’s just… focus on the experiment’ he grunted. Mig gave a curt nod, and he turned back to the table.

But they both knew that they couldn’t actually stay silent.

‘I think… if we try it this way, we might be able to get over that final 1% hurdle’ Miguel said after a minute's silence.

‘Mm. I hope so. I have high hopes for these next few trials’ Mig purred, giving his abdomen a happy little wiggle. ‘It has been a hard wait, but, I will be grateful to have it finished. I will be grateful for the help you offered. To finally be with mi arañita…’

‘Yep. You’ll get everything’ Miguel murmured. ‘If this works… You’ll get everything we both wanted.’

Mig’s purring dulled as he gazed over at his counterpart. ‘… You, make it sounds as if you are jealous of that fact.’

‘Do I? I hadn’t noticed.’

Miguel’s sudden, sarcastic tone caught Mig off guard. Miguel’s face hardened as he tried to maintain that cold façade, but even that quickly fell apart. He couldn’t stay mad at his big, stupid variant anymore, not now.

‘… Yeah, I’m jealous’ he murmured.

‘But, why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I’m aware we had our troubles, yes. But I don’t understand why you would still be envious of me now.’

Miguel scoffed a little, which only urged Mig to get closer. He bent his front legs to peer at Miguel with earnest eyes.

‘Is it still mi arañita? Do you—’

‘No! Not—’ Miguel paused and instinctively raised his hand. ‘Sorry, that sounds defensive. Ah.’

He ran that same hand down his face with a sigh. ‘It’s not. At least not… I mean I’m not, envious of your relationship to them, but… Perhaps, maybe I am envious that you have someone.’

‘Right. I see.’

‘It all, just… works for you. It works out for you’ Miguel grumbled, his hand slowly sliding back down to his side. ‘And I don’t know why.’

‘That seems an unfair assessment’ Mig replied quietly. ‘You are, implying that my life has somehow been notably easier than yours.’

Miguel opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it.

‘I used to think you were the better of us all’ Mig said when Miguel failed to speak for himself. ‘You were the most human. The most adjusted. You had friends, co-workers, your… your, Dana was still alive, even if now gone.’

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel grumbled reluctantly. He couldn’t look Mig in the eye as he said it, but he managed to force it out. ‘I am. I didn’t—mean to imply that.’

‘It’s okay’ Mig purred. ‘In that mandatory therapy you made us go to, I… Came to understand a lot about my perception of you. You were everything that I wasn’t. A hybrid who passed for human, surrounded by people. And I hated you for it, but, I didn’t hate you—’

‘Well, you did. You hated me. For, justified reasons, I will add.’

Mig purred a mild chuckle in response. ‘Yes, I hated you after you tried to interfere. But I know why you did, perhaps better than anybody else. I liked rubbing it in your face, that I had achieved something unique and beautiful, because I put all of my misgivings onto you.’

In almost near synchronicity their smiles faded.

‘… Yeah’ Miguel murmured back. ‘Yeah. I see what you’re getting at.’

For a few minutes the two were silent. Miguel continued running logistics while Mig watched the screen, keeping track of the numbers as they flew past. For a while Miguel wanted desperately to pretend that he could leave the conversation there, but, that was a fools hope.

After testing a few logistics he paused the screen and gripped his desk for stability. Mig watched him with unblinking focus.

‘I tried to have a family. Even a, tiny little piece of a family, for myself… and I failed’ Miguel murmured. The cold blue light of the screen danced across his expression, filling in the hardened trauma lines in his face. The shadows in his brow and nose were sharpened under that dead light.

‘I failed. There was only one universe where I was happy, and I lost it, because—’

Miguel paused, unable to continue with that line of thought. Mig just purred.

‘Did you never wonder why?’ Miguel said, his voice barely a whisper. He sounded like a child re-calling their nightmare to their parent.

‘Why?’

‘Why we suffer?’ Miguel hissed. ‘Did you never wonder why? Why every O’Hara has to suffer, alone? Why there was only one universe where one of us was happy, and even there he… even he… and I…’

Miguel bit his tongue and went totally still, his eyes wild. Mig allowed him a few more moments of silence before speaking again.

‘… I pondered that thought all the time’ Mig murmured back. He turned to gaze at the screen, seeing the little snippets of video flashing in the corner. He could see you, making your way down the beams, and it made his heart ache.

‘I pondered it before I came here. Why did I have to turn, why did my loved ones have to go, why did I have to be left alone? I’d ponder it every night as I looked at the stars, playing my silk strings, wondering why I didn’t deserve better.’

‘I always said, I created interdimensional travel to try and keep things on the straight and narrow. To, fix everyone’s stupid little mistakes’ Miguel said, more to himself than to Mig. ‘But I don’t think that was true. I don’t think that’s very honest.’

He caught a glimpse of the same video Mig was watching then, and he froze up. He saw that little girl tossing the football around, beaming and smiling at the camera with mud on her face. His little girl.

His expression darkened, and he swiped the video away.

‘I did it to fix my existence. To find somewhere better.’

‘And you did, did you not?’ Mig replied.

Miguel scowled until the red light of his eyes was reflected onto his cheeks like tear stains. ‘… I did something, that’s for sure’ he replied. He ran another hand down his face as he mulled over the choices he’d made, and the choices he was about to make.

‘If this serum works…. We are going against fate by doing this’ Miguel said slowly. ‘We are, testing the very limits of what fate allows.’

‘You talk of fate as if it’s a real thing’ Mig replied. Miguel’s scowl deepened.

‘… What if it is?’

The two men glanced at each other in unison. The two were now barely a few inches apart, with the monitor light perfectly highlighting their differences. Mig’s soft, hopeful eyes against Miguel’s dark, narrowed hopelessness. Red like blood, and red like the sunset, fixed on each other in the silence.

‘There is no such thing as fate’ Mig said directly to Miguel’s face. ‘There is no fate. There is a universal series of likelihoods, that are numerically inescapable. They must exist, in a world with infinite possibilities. In every universe, for us to exist as we are, as hybrids, as monsters, there must be suffering. It’s not fate. It’s just the same, sad event, playing over and over again. But after that event… There are a million choices to make.’

Miguel narrowed his eyes further as Mig spoke. He clenched his fists and let the squeak of leather stretching fill the silence.

‘Then why does it still all go wrong?’ Miguel hissed.

‘Because bad things happen’ Mig replied matter-of-factly.

‘Bullshit. This is more than just- regular bad things. You can tell me what happened to us is just, regular bad!’

‘No. Some people, have it worse, I admit—’

‘Much, worse. Much worse!’

‘Okay. Much worse. Yes. I concede that.’

The two fell into a slightly awkward silence as Miguel tried to soothe his temper. It was his only coping mechanism

‘All I meant, is… Bad things will always happen. But the good still happened too. No matter what happens from here… I will be grateful for the time I had’ Mig said softly.

‘Do you really think, you could lose this, and still be happy?’ Miguel argued back, though his tone had also softened. ‘Really?’

That thought drew Mig to pause. He tapped his little fluffy paws on the floor of the office, as he tried to decide how to respond. In the end, he did what he always did: he spoke the painful truth.

‘No’ he whispered. ‘No. I could never be happy again if I lost them.’

Miguel didn’t reply with words. He just gave his own somber nod of agreement. Despite the nice platitudes, despite wanting to altruistically believe they could be calm and composed enough to accept their fates with grace, both of them knew what loss could do.

In the end, there was only one thing Miguel could think to offer.

‘Okay. Come on, I’ll handle the last of this. I can run the last few tests by myself with Lyla. The Halloween party should be starting in a few hours, just um- just, you go and help them out. They probably got themselves lost. Tonto.’

‘But, Miguel, I want to help—’

‘That’s an order’ Miguel said, sharply cutting off Mig’s retort.

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, almost as if they could speak without saying a word. Their eyes were locked.

Part of Mig wanted to say no. He didn’t want to leave his work, he didn’t want to wait. He also, deep, deep down, didn’t necessarily trust Miguel fully yet. What if it was a trick? What if Miguel used this as leverage to sabotage the test? After all, it’s what he’d have done in the past.

But the more he looked at Miguel, the more he doubted those fears. He looked so irritated, the stubborn fool, but he looked so open too. So genuine in his annoyance that he was allowing himself to do this kindness. There was no quiet pride, or any façade of politeness to hide his intentions. He really wanted to do something nice, and he hated himself for it.

Eventually, just as you’d done, Mig relented. He bowed his head and agreed to go, but not before giving Miguel an awkward clap on the shoulder.

‘Thank you, amigo.’

Miguel flinched at the new nickname. It caught him so off guard he nearly snorted out loud.

‘You, wh… Shut up! Jesus, you tried to fuck in my office behind my back, don’t start with that. Get out. Go on.’

To save face Miguel quickly snapped and pushed Mig’s hand aside, though there was no genuine fire in his words. Even Mig could pick that up. ‘Very well. I shall see you later, then. Take care’ Mig added, before turning and padding his way out of the office in hot pursuit of wherever you’d gotten off to.

Miguel was left alone, hands clasped to his desk, trying to hide the bemused and confused expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed his claws had sunk into the desk.

Amigo…

‘Tonto’ he hissed beneath his breath, and with cheeks now burnt a soft shade of auburn red he returned to his work.

[classpectpokerap]

going to go completely bugfuck insane for a little bit here. we need to talk about ultrose

Ultimate Rose, Pt. 1 (establishing facts)

so

ultrose is a fucking bundle of contradictions, huh?

i think its worth immediately establishing postcanon rose as a liar. specifically, there are a few crucial lies -- lies she tells herself as well -- that define the basis of ultrose. (im mostly going to be looking at candy timeline here, because meat ultrose is a whole other tin can of worms.)

the crucial scenes to compare are the last scene where she talks to john at the peak of the war, and the scene where she plays her hand in beyond canon.

i'm going to skip around this scene (candy 33), but stick with me.

this rose.

this rose right here. this rose who is happy. who loves her wife. who has *a* daughter.

this rose, as she herself describes.

is not "true."

rose firmly believes that knowledge means suffering. which, given the state of her body at the start of the prologue, probably feels deeply true! and her ailment disappearing coincides with her sight vanishing, and her knowledge of The Shape Of Postcanon slipping away. (candy 4)

"For some reason" "whatever it was she felt"

i think it's extremely important to establish here that rose wiped her own mind.

or maybe roxy wiped her mind. or the severing of meat/candy wiped her mind, but that last one feels very unlikely to me considering that this mind-wiped-state is at-will.

and we know that, because during the candy timeline, she is two things:

blind to the world

happy

and in beyond canon, this very same rose, days later, is:

too-aware, and in touch with her powers

deeply miserable

she stopped trying the moment the comic came back. she stopped trying because she never started. that was a whole ass different rose. one without the memories or powers.

if you'd allow me to be insane, i think i know which rose.

from ultdirk describing his experiences (with supplementary text from davepeta), we know what being ultimate is like. we understand that he has access to every splinter of himself, some more prominent than others.

so if rose is able to prioritize bringing one iteration of herself to the front of her mind... which rose would be the best?

which rose would be the happiest, the most pleased by living on earth c? the one blissed by love, the one who would be happy with a daughter and a wife.

it's not our main rose. she was not happy during her wedding. she didn't enjoy her life. she didn't think she'd ever be happy until after the meat/candy split happened.

you know who would have loved that?

what

what is this...... very very important thing doing here?

why is she "correcting" herself? why is she making this distinction? we haven't heard a word spoken about complacency of the learned, maybe at all, in the entire epilogues. and we know rose never really finished the story. it was just some amateur wizardfic.

but say there was another rose. a member of the gestalt, who actually DID finish writing complacency. who fought her whole life for the right to have a family, but ultimately failed.

say there was a rose who was an author.

yeah. i think the rose who gets to act out the bulk of the candy timeline (notably NOT yiffy. that was alllllllll ultrose) is alpha rose. roxy's mom. the one who fought the condesce and lost. and i think she's here simply because she's the best choice.

i mean, fuck, in hs2 rose straight up says it.

so . yeah. this is all establishing stuff for my Insane Theory. my real one about why shes doing all this. how shes doing all this. i have been sitting on this theory for months and if you thought "candy rose is alpha earth rose" is unhinged you aint seen nothing yet

gloves are canon

part 2 is here.

[animeredhead101]

Tim Drake/ Danny Fenton Masterlist

An Interesting Family Tree by Scififan33 :

Danny's life in Amity Park wasn't perfect, but it beat his old life. The GIW and Fenton parents didn't make things easier but at least ghost attacks had lessened since he was named Prince, to be crowned upon his twenty first birthday. He'd run from the League almost a decade ago, risking getting their attention, and for a stranger? It was insane. And yet he still got on the plane to Europe to find and warn one Tim Drake that he was being targeted. Word Count: 68,348 On-going This is one of favorite fanfics, I love the interactions of Danny and Tim throughout the story. I also love how the author writes two story lines together. I love both Fandoms and to read a story were they work well together is always a treat!

Tim Drake's I.E.F (Invisible Eldritch Friend) by Half-dead Ham :

The last thing Tim expected while getting stalked was to get used to the unseen creature and how they started taking care of him. He expected even less for them to be the same age

Word Count: 72,042 On-going

I find it hilarious that the bat stalker gets stalked and they some how make it into a funny Rom-com.

Till Death and Beyond by Scififan33 :

Danny and Tim have known each other for a year, have been dating for months, and are very happy. Sure, Tim would prefer if his boyfriend let him help him at least get a nicer apartment, or even an internship at WE but Danny won't let him. Dating Tim is not keeping his head down but as far as everyone knows, Danny Fenton died with his parents and sister. Danny Nightingale has no links to him, thanks to Tucker and Technus' magic. But there are still those who would love nothing more than to get their hands on Phantom, despite his not having been seen in a long time. And why is there a vigilante bleeding out on his apartment floor? Word Count: 79,279 On-going I love the fic for the fact that we talk about how the bat-fam treats Tim. Like he is such a sweetheart and he is not treated they way he should be. Like don't get me wrong I love the fics were Damion and Tim get along and fix their relationship but the way they interact this would not have occurred and to see this in this fanfic and Tim recognizing that its not okay was amazing. I also love that Danny doesn't take any shit from the bat-fam, hes likes fuck with Tim and see what happens. Defiantly one of my top 5!

Mesmeric Revelation by DisillusionedDanny :

Danny couldn’t stop the future. That much was true. Despite not cheating on his CAT and doing every single thing by the book to make sure that this future was not a reality, it had happened anyway. The nasty burger had blown up. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, they were all in the building when it happened.

With his friends and family dead, Danny goes to the only place he thinks is safe. The infinite realms.

As Danny attempts to move on from the tragedy he manages to get summoned by cultists, build a new family for himself and even find love. Not all in that exact order.

Tim Drake thought getting kidnapped by cultists was probably the most annoying thing to have ever happened to him. Little did he know it would also be the best thing to ever happen.

Word Count: 71,980 Complete

Its very heartwarming with a dark tone in the beginning. I enjoy reading this as a comfort fanfic.

Shovel Talk by SummersSixEcho :

When Tim decided to tag along on a road trip with Danny to meet his parents, he was kinda ready for the shovel talk with his friends and family. But bringing out the secrets buried in Amity Park? That’s another kind of shovel talk Danny hadn’t prepared him for. Word Count: 71,396 Complete

Family introductions by Half-dead Ham(Grima101) :

Danny and Tim have been dating for about a year now, figuring out their relationship between Tim’s vigilante duties and Danny’s Ghost King responsibilities. Danny is taking a small (unauthorized) break from his paperwork to find his bf flat on his ass sick trying to go on patrol. The only way to stop him was to take his place, and Danny was lucky they're the same size.

Word Count: 14,070 On-going

Wanted: Dead and Alive by Astereae :

“Hey, I do I... Do I know you?” Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. “No,” Tim says. “We haven’t met.” “Oh, no, I do.” Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. “You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!” Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- “WHAT!?” Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked. OR Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months. Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May. Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however. And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all. Word Count: 121,281 Completed

The Rebirth of Tim Drake by Bewitched_Forest :

Tim gets turned into a halfa after an incident with a newly spawned Lazarus Pit, electricity, and Ra's Al Ghul. When he awakens, he finds himself in the Ghost Zone. Taken to fellow Halfa, Danny Fenton, he travels to Amity Park where he learns with the help of Danny and his friends just what he has become. And how being a Halfa has made him one of the most hunted beings in the world.

Not Abandoned! Updating will just be whenever I feel like it cause I got burnout.

Word Count: 57,663 On-going

My Name is Not Wounder Boy! by CrepuscularCryptid :

Casper High's juniors go on a trip to Washington DC every year. This year it's Danny's class's turn. Absolutely nothing goes wrong. Nothing. Shut up, Tucker. ************* Wherein Danny meets Wonder Woman, fosters diplomacy between the Living and the Dead Realms, and eventually gets a new haunt. Word Count: 44,832 On-going

Bitter, had the Heart by CastrianAmore :

Tim is the only one consistently watching. Thus he’s the first and only one to notice one more body following the streets like the bats do. A kid with all black hair and white motifs and an attitude problem that reminds him a tad too much of Jason. It was a shame Jason was adamant that he “didn’t know anything”, what a liar right?

But the streets of Gotham listened and the name on everyone’s lips playing like a discordant harmony was one word: Distortion. Not that Tim knew what it meant yet, but Danny would make sure he would. If Danny lived long enough for Tim to find out.

Word Count: 182,548 Complete

Tim Jr. Coffee Machine Extraordinaire by PaperPuffin :

Dick worried his lip between his teeth as he looked Tim over. His little brother was standing, zombie-like, in front of the Cave’s coffee machine. Not that the act was unusual for Tim. Just… the thing was, Tim had been doing better. Word Count: 2,330 Complete

Rated M

A Grave Affair by OnlyHereForTheSnacks :

Tim was used to life taking unexpected turns. It was just another part of being a vigilante. Sometimes life gives you lemons and sometimes an immortal assassin sells you into an arranged marriage to the Ghost King for a piece of jewelry. (Lots of plot. Smut in Ch.3. Mind the tags)

Word Count: 14,744 Complete

Seeing Double by Wraiith(Jayyydez) :

"You remember that conversation we had about me being able to duplicate?" Tim's brow furrowed even more. Which conversation-? His mouth dried all at once, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Oh. Oh, Ancients and Gods alike, help him. Danny was having this conversation with him. He was having it with him right now, and Tim felt more awake than he had in days. Word Count: 7,752 Complete

Skin of Your Teeth by halfgone(milkywxy) :

Tim can't bring himself to lie about his secret identity anymore. When he spills his secret to his boyfriend, Danny, many more secrets are soon to follow. Some with interesting results.

Prompts: Tim Drake |Eldritch Danny| Teeth

Word Count: 7,065 On-going

[tkwrites]

He's Got It Bad - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif by 40ep

Title: He’s got it bad

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Warnings: Swearing, lots of teasing & chirping, mild spoilers if you've never seen the original Jurassic Park.

Summary: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Word Count: 2,600

Comments: I’m sorry this one took me so long, Daisy! I started it two or three months ago, but couldn’t find the right way to finish it. And then earlier this week, as I was falling asleep, it just snapped into place. I hope you enjoy it! 

As before, the research described here is dubious at best, so please take it with a big grain of salt.

If you did enjoy this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

dasiysthings asked: If you’re taking requests/suggestions for Quinn and Sarah au doing a Sarah meeting the team for the first time has been on my mind lately. What would they think of her? Sure Quinn’s mentioned her and they saw sarah in the stands her first game but maybe she attends a team function like birthday party or team family meal. Something low key and not public maybe? Also how much do they tease Quinn after?🫣🤭

He’s got it bad

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Are you free on Thursday?” 

It was a rare night off, and he’d requested they order food and watch a movie. Currently, they were lounging in a giant bean bag in the gaming room. Quinn was partially on top of Sarah, his head resting on her chest as the first Jurassic Park played on the large screen.

“I think so. Why?”

“Garly’s having a party that night for his birthday. I hoped you might want to come with me.” 

“Who?”

“Garly,” he repeated before correcting himself, “Conor. Garland. From the team.”

Quinn had mentioned Conor before, and she knew he was one of the trio of guys he was really close to.  

“Sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “Who will be there?”

“Most of the guys and their partners if they have them.”

“Is it going to be wild?” she asked, winding one of his curls around her finger. She needed to prepare herself if it was going to be a night full of drinking. 

“Nah, Conor’s pretty chill, and we have a game the next day.”

“Okay,” she agreed again, splaying her fingers through his dark waves, letting them slip and slide over her skin. For someone who washed it so often, he had remarkably soft hair. 

 Nuzzling into her chest a little more, he sighed. He loved when she played with his hair.

Sarah jumped when the Dilophosaurus appeared on screen, tilting its head at Nedry. 

Quinn laughed. She hadn’t even flinched when the T-Rex had tried to attack the kids through one of the park cars. “You okay?”

“I hate this one,” she said, turning her head to the side. 

He glanced at the TV in time to see the dinosaur hiss and pop its frill. “You hate this more than the T-Rex?” 

“At least the T-Rex is just a big predator. This one stalks and tortures first, and I hate it,” she said, face still turned away. 

“But Nedry deserved it.” 

“Maybe so, but I still don’t like to think about it.” 

He chuckled.

Only after the yells faded away did she turn back to the movie and continue tracing her fingers through his hair. 

By the time Thursday came around, Quinn realized just how nervous Sarah was. She texted him about the dress code three hours before he was supposed to pick her up.

It’s a party, he’d written back, unsure of what she meant. 

Yeah, but is it like a heels and cocktails party? Or a backyard barbecue party?

Well, it’s been raining all week, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be indoors.

Don’t be a smartass. 

Just casual. Food and drinks. 

She’d called him then, and he’d answered, confused. “Hey?” 

“I just…” she began, “this is the first time I’m meeting most of your teammates and their girlfriends and I don’t want to be the only one in jeans when everyone else is in dresses. I want to make a good impression.” 

“You’ll make a good impression no matter what you’re wearing.”

A breath blew out of her nose, whistling by the phone speaker, “you don’t get it.” 

“Don’t I?” 

“Quinn, you wear the same thing all the time.” 

“First of all, I do not.”

He continued before she could get out her retort that Brady could back her up on this fact. “And secondly, everything I’ve seen you wear would be fine for this. You always look nice.”

And he meant it. Even in her aquarium uniform, which consisted of a blue t-shirt or polo with the aquarium logo and whatever pants she happened to be wearing that day, she always looked put together.

She made some noise in her throat like she thought he was telling tales. 

“Look, you might get some looks if you showed up in a trash bag or something.” 

Laughter barked out of her mouth. “Why would I ever wear a trash bag?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying that barring an unhinged trash bag outfit, you’ll be fine. People are just excited to meet you.” 

“You told them I’m coming?” she asked, feeling sudden nerves attack her stomach. 

“Yeah. Conor suggested I invite you. The guys want to meet you.” Plus, ever since she'd met Brady, he'd wanted her to meet everyone in his life.

“Oh,” she said quietly. 

“Just wear what you feel comfortable in, and I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sarah said, feeling even more anxious than before she’d called him.

She couldn’t even wear her go-to outfit for when she was nervous. St. Patricks day was the next weekend, and she’d asked Quinn to come to her uncles and needed the green dress for that. Plus, it was freezing and sleety outside. A dress was not the way to go. 

Jane walked by, and Sarah called her in. 

“What happened here?” Jane asked, taking in the clothing spread all over Sarah’s usually tidy room, and Sarah herself standing in her underwear. 

The only thing she could decide on was the blue bra, which always made her feel confident and sexy. She’d paired it with a matching pair of underwear.

“I’m going to a party with some of Quinn’s teammates tonight,” she said. 

Janes eyes widened with what Sarah thought was the appropriate amount of concern. 

“So I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The dress is out,” she said, gesturing to where it was hanging in the closet. 

Jane bit her lip, surveying the chaos. “My vote is for those boyfriend jeans that make your thighs look killer,” she said. 

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have someone express a definitive opinion. She’d put those same jeans on earlier but stripped them right back off, worried all the other women would be in fancier dress. “You don’t think they’ll be too casual?” 

“What kind of a party is it?” 

“Birthday.”

Jane looked her over, “you’ll be fine. Killer jeans, nice top. Quinn won’t know what hit him.” 

She pulled the jeans on, hopping as she tugged them over her hips, “thanks. I’m just so nervous.” 

Jane sat on her bed and began putting shirts back on their discarded hangers, “I don’t think you need to be.” 

“No?”

She shook her head, “from the way he was looking at you when he stayed for dinner that night you guys made up, I’m not sure anything could put him off you.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. 

“Anyway,” Jane said, pulling a purple blouse out from underneath her, “I think you should wear this. It looks good with your eyes.”

“Thanks, Jane,” she said, gathering the other woman into a hug, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Sarah was already in the lobby when Quinn pulled up to her building. She wore medium wash jeans a dark raincoat. He appreciated that she was wearing flat boots instead of some fussy heel. She threw the hood up to block the rain before running out to his car. 

When they got to the house, he opened the door without knocking before leading her inside. There was a coat rack already brimming with wet jackets, and Sarah stripped hers off to hang up with the others. 

Quinn stopped in his tracks halfway through unzipping his own jacket. 

He thought he’d seen all of Sarah’s clothes. Which was a stupid notion now that he thought about it — they hadn’t been dating for that long — but she tended to wear a kind of uniform.

Today, though, her jeans fit her like a glove — clinging to the curves of her thighs and hips. He was certain she’d never worn them before. He would have remembered. Seeing her in them now, he wished she’d given him some kind of warning.

When he didn’t follow her, Sarah turned, which was worse. The purple blouse she wore skimmed over her breasts and a pattern was embroidered around the collar.  The color somehow made her eyes brighter and lips more pink. He had no idea that could happen.

He felt like he needed to catch his breath as a surge of attraction reared in his stomach.

Not only were the guys going to tease him mercilessly for being with someone new, he was going to have to watch her in those jeans all night. The mental exertion it was going to take to not pop a boner was already making him tired. 

Before his mind could truly go to war about the pros and cons of just turning to go back to his place, Conor called out, “Huggy? Is that you?” 

Too late to turn back now. “Yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off Sarah. 

“Huggy?” she repeated.

“It’s a long story.”

The thrill of touching her reared to life again as he took her hand to guide her into the house. He made his mind focus on math equations for the walk into the kitchen and hoped it would be enough. 

“Hey!” Conor greeted, immediately grasping Quinn in a hug when they walked into the kitchen.  “You must be the elusive Sarah Huggy won’t stop telling us about,” he said as they broke apart.

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah joked as they shook hands.

“Well, he certainly didn’t lie about how pretty your eyes are,” a woman said, coming up to stand next to Conor, running her hand along his forearm before entwining their fingers.

The color that pinked her cheeks made Quinn’s knees want to buckle. God, he was in deep.

The strange thing was that he wasn’t scared about it. That had to mean something good.

“I’m Meghan, and this is Conor,” she said with a bright, friendly smile. 

More introductions were made, and Sarah tried to keep track of everyone, but there were at least 40 people there, and she felt instantly overwhelmed. She should have known. She knew how many people were on a hockey team, but it was still a little shocking to meet everyone all at once. 

They were absorbed into one of the small groups of people, and Sarah sipped from her seltzer only to find it was lemon flavored, not pineapple like she'd expected. She frowned at the can. 

“Do you want something different?” Quinn asked, noticing the disappointed look on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conor and JT glance at each other. 

“No, it’s okay. I was just expecting pineapple, so the lemon was a bit of a shock.”

“There’s pineapple in there,” Meghan said, gesturing with her own can. 

“I’ll get you one,” he said, turning to the fridge. 

She caught his arm and he turned back, “it’s fine, Quinn. This one’s already open. It’s not a big deal. Most seltzer tastes the same anyway.” 

“I’m glad someone can finally admit that,” Brock said, lifting his beer to his lips.

His pretty blonde girlfriend smacked him on the arm, “just because you can’t tell the difference doesn’t mean no one else can.”

Sarah smiled at them. They were cute together - like a model midwestern couple. 

“So, Sarah,” JT said, pulling her focus, “Quinn tells us you work at the aquarium.” 

She went through her usual explanation of her schooling and research.

“Tell them about Tuesday,” Quinn prompted. 

Everyone in the group looked between them expectantly. JT and Conor shared another glance. 

“What happened Tuesday?” Natalie asked, taking the bait right away. 

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of experiments with Walter to see if he can taste my mood.”

“What?” 

“Octopus have tastebuds and nerve endings in every suction cup that far surpass our own, so I’ve been wondering if he can taste the hormones on my skin. Anyway, I sprayed some Cortisol, which is the hormone that releases when you’re stressed, on my hands to see how he’d react, and he went from seemingly happy to see me to very subdued almost immediately.” 

“Whoa,” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes brightening. “It was really amazing. With some more experiments, I think I could probably use this as the basis research for my thesis.” 

“Exactly how did this guy convince you to date him?” JT asked, pointing at Quinn.

Natalie smacked his arm. 

“No, I’m serious. You’re really smart. You know Huggy didn’t even finish college, right?” 

What the hell was this nickname? 

“I did finish college,” Quinn interrupted, “I graduated last year.” 

“Whatever,” JT said with a dismissive hand as if that detail didn’t matter. “Does he have you under some sort of mind control?” 

Sarah laughed out loud, and Quinn’s eyes darted to her, catching her wide open smile. 

“Cause she couldn’t just like me,” he defended, sarcastically

“A girl like this? This pretty and this smart?” JT asked, “it’s hard to believe, Huggy.” 

Even though she could see the glint of humor in his eyes and knew he was only teasing, Sarah still stepped in, “Nope. No mind control.” She emphasized the statement by reaching for his hand, “You know as well, probably better than I do that Quinn has really great qualities. He's a really good guy.” 

JT leaned back on the counter, a jokingly suspicious look still on his face as he glanced between them. 

Quinn could feel himself blushing. He didn’t mean for Sarah to come to his defense like that. He didn’t mean to put her in that position. All the same, he was a little glad for it. JT had a way of teasing a persons insecurities right out of them, and to know Sarah didn’t feel the same way eased something in him. 

“Our daughter loves the aquarium,” Natalie cut in fluidly as if she was used to smoothing over her husbands’ aggressive teasing.

“Let me know the next time you come by,” Sarah said without missing a beat, “I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“Oh, she’d love that. We’ll have to get a group of us together.” 

JT gave her a genuine smile, and Sarah let a little breath go in her chest. 

At the next mornings practice, Quinn ran through drills and exercises, ears pricked for the inevitable teasing he knew would be coming his way. 

To his surprise, it didn’t come until the end, after he’d showered and was dressing in his stall.

“Dude, you've got it bad,” Joshua teased as he walked by, “I’ve never seen you look at someone like that,” he said, adopting a sappy, lovestruck expression. 

“I don’t know if you can top the way he was about to chuck that can of seltzer away from her because she didn’t like it,” JT said.

“Right?” Conor agreed, laughing, “‘Do you want something different? Let me get you a new can.’” He mimed rushing around searching. 

“Don’t forget the first time he told us about her,” Brock cut in, “he was like fucking Aladdin, ‘she’s got these eyes.’” 

Joining in the laughter, Quinn tossed his towel in their direction. 

Conor caught it easily. “Our little Huggy’s in love,” he teased, elongating the last word into several syllables. 

“So you’ve been keeping track,” Brock surmised, glancing around with a knowing expression. 

“Guys,” he said, leveling them with a look he hoped would shut the conversation down. “We’ve only known each other 9 weeks.” 

Guess he may as well get comfortable in this hole he dug for himself.

He’d dished out this same chirping when Brock had brought Bella around for the first time and knew it was best to just let it lie, and eventually, it would become old news. 

When he didn’t deny it, the boys around him all whooped and hollered enough that everyone else in the room looked over.

“Seriously though,” JT went on, “I have no idea how you landed her, but she’s a great girl."

"And,” he continued with a smirk, “if you ever get bored of her, I'm sure Kuzy’ll take her off your hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at her all night.” 

Quinn glared, more offended at the insinuation he would get bored of Sarah. 

JT laughed, raucous and loud, “Oh, he’s got it bad, alright.”

He couldn’t stop the flush that rushed into his cheeks. 

“Don't worry, Huggy. No one's gonna steal your girl.” 

Shaking his head, Quinn shoved his sneakers on.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[littlejuicebox]

Swollen

Summary: This is another addition to my multi-part Dadstarion series. Tav is heavily pregnant and craving touch from Astarion. He's such a good husband, he happily obliges... but not without making it a bit of a game, of course.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+, daddy kink, pregnancy is mentioned but I wouldn't call it a pregnancy kink... just an acknowledgement of the belly, Astarion has a foot fetish, light edging, light brat-taming, light spanking, Astarion being a tease what is new

Notes: HAPPY DADSTARION DAY! This started as a gift I was writing for @tragedybunny and took far too long for me to complete! Also, hello tumblr. My first posted piece in a while. I've finished moving and hope to get back into the swing of things here. Hope everyone has been well!

Word Count: 4K

-----

Her feet hurt, her back hurts, and she’s incredibly horny. 

The strange contrast isn’t lost upon Tav in the slightest, but the pregnancy hormones have her libido at an all time high. Seven months in with the twins, a stomach stretched almost to its limits, and yet she cannot get enough of her husband. She craves his touch, the feeling of his skin pressed against hers, the sensation of his cock splitting her open. She hears the whispers of encouragement and adoration that push her towards release in her dreams and longs for the moans of his own ecstasy as he follows her into oblivion. 

Tav is, more than ever, addicted to Astarion. Not that he seems to be complaining. 

But unfortunately for Tav, Astarion is still working in his office at this very moment. It’s midday; she has at least a few more hours until there is any opportunity to find her fix. 

After a quick shower and change into her robe, Tav convinces herself that she can be patient. Her feet are swollen, anyway, after her morning in the park with Gale — the three year old is taking a well-earned nap — so she will simply elevate them and wait for the inflammation to go down. After that, dinner preparations and putting their son to bed. And after that— finally— some well earned mommy and daddy time. 

Tav props her legs up on a pillow, closes her eyes for just a moment and… 

She is stirred awake by the feeling of strong hands gripping the soles of her feet. 

When her eyes flutter open, Astarion, appearing before her with the top buttons of his shirt undone, smiles and affectionately squeezes her feet once again. “Everything alright, little love?”

Tav hums a yes and then brushes a few strands of hair from her face as Astarion continues to massage her feet. She moves to prop herself up just slightly, aided by a few pillows behind her back. Her robe spills open, revealing swollen breasts to match her swollen stomach. Astarion blatantly admires the view, eyebrow arching with interest, as she gathers the fabric back together and tightens the belt with a sigh. 

“I must have fallen asleep for a moment,” she says, allowing her eyes to close again as she focuses on Astarion’s hands kneading the flesh of her sore soles. Gods, the magic of this man’s hands— and not a spell in sight. “Is Gale still napping?”

Astarion hums a yes in response. “We stopped early with the ledgers today — it’s Pascal’s wife’s birthday so I told him we would resume tomorrow. I was hoping to catch you two for lunch but by the looks of the kitchen you’d already eaten. So I made a quick bite for myself and then came looking for you.”

Tav groans, imagining the state of the kitchen, which she left in shambles. The maid won’t be back in until Monday morning. “I’ll clean the kitchen later, I just—“ 

“No need, love. I already tidied it. We can leave what remains for tomorrow,” Astarion cuts in before lifting her foot and placing an affectionate kiss on the outer edge. 

“For once in your life, just rest, woman. Would you like me to leave you so that you can go back to sleep?”

She shakes her head and then smiles softly. “No, I’d like for you to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Astarion chuckles, his eyes flickering across Tav’s face and then glimmering with mischief. He glances back down at her chest, now covered, and hums, his head tilting to the side. 

“Which part, darling?” He asks as he begins squeezing and massaging her calf with his long fingers. “This?” 

He continues kneading a few more times before he stops and moves to kiss Tav’s ankle. He lingers for a moment and then trails a few pecks along the side of her foot. She watches as his lips brush against her sole before he takes two toes into his mouth and sucks them lightly. He keeps his eyes trained on her face as his tongue swirls around the digits, causing her to squeal and squirm. Finally, he releases her toes with a sly smile. 

“Or that?”

“Both,” Tav responds, causing Astarion to rumble a chuckle in response. 

“You’re so needy, darling,” he teases, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips, the heat of his breath grazing against her toes. “But very well, if you insist. How could I say no to my very pregnant wife?”

His mouth his back around Tav’s foot in an instant, his tongue teasing against her toes. She gasps in response, her face flushing crimson at the… raw intensity with which he is worshiping her feet and the consistency of his gaze trained upon her face. The slickness growing between her thighs is, frankly, even more embarrassing. He’s done this before, every once and a while, but perhaps with not quite as much vigor. 

Astarion hums when he releases Tav’s toes for a second time, his lips pressing a trail of kisses against her calf as he quickly spreads her legs open. He’s soon on his stomach, his face just in front of her mound, robe expertly undone by one dexterous hand. 

He trails one hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch tingling along her flesh on his way to spread her folds and admire the wetness of her cunt. His mouth hovers not more than an inch away, lips curling up into a smug smile as he views the glistening arousal he’s coaxed from her. His breath brushes against her clit. So close, and yet so far. 

And entirely purposeful. 

Tav attempts to reach down between her own legs and touch herself, to relieve the nagging need at the apex of her trembling thighs. She groans in dismay and drops her hand, gripping the sheet when she realizes the swell of her abdomen is now too large for her to reach her own drenched folds. 

But gods, she needs relief. 

“Astarion,” she huffs, her voice tipping up into a whine as kisses are trailed along her thigh. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not in the mood for teasing.”

Astarion lifts his lips to chuckle in delight at her little predicament. His head tips up; she can barely see his eyes, shining with mischief, over the swell of her abdomen. 

“Darling, I usually have to physically restrain you so that you cannot touch yourself while I’m playing with your pretty cunt like this,” he purrs, a silver eyebrow cocked as his eyes lift and drag across her barely-clothed body. “This is a delightful development on my part.” 

“Astarion, I swear, if you don’t—“ Tav interrupts her threats with a strangled moan as two of his fingers easily slide into her walls. Her hips eagerly buck in response. 

“What you were saying, darling?” Astarion asks, cockily, as the flat of his palm presses against her clit. 

Tav is barely able to stifle the wanting cry that begs to escape her lips as she struggles to speak.

“What was that?” He teases again, as his fingers slip in and out of her entrance, the lewd sounds of her slickness filling the bedroom. He removes his fingers and trails them up to her clit, pressing down and rubbing forcefully, causing a shocked whine to shoot from Tav’s mouth. He chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you over all the moaning and whining, love. Did you want something else?”

“No,” Tav finally manages to gasp out through ragged breaths, her hips rolling against Astarion’s fingers as he slides them back inside. 

Astarion hums a contented sound from the back of his throat, entirely pleased with her response. “There’s my good girl. Now, how about you relax and let daddy do all the work, hm?” He asks, his eyes focused on Tav’s arousal dripping itself onto his fingers, beckoning his tongue to taste. 

Tav is left with no choice but to obey the command, and simply nods her head before tossing it backwards as she focuses on the pleasure building between her legs. She moans when Astarion’s lips lock against her flesh and cries out as his tongue slides along her clit. He smirks along her drenched cunt, his tongue lavishing the familiar trails of pleasure that he’s memorized after years of study. 

He takes his time, tracing around her overly sensitive nub in expert circles. He hooks his fingers to stroke along the sensitive spot that makes her toes tingle, grinning when he feels them, strewn over his shoulder and curled up in pleasure against his back. He flicks his tongue in the way he knows she prefers, listening to the muffled cries of pleasure that escape as she attempts to keep her voice down and avoid waking their toddler. He misses the way she used to scream for him. 

But she can still scream for him, can’t she? He’s certain he can make her cry out just the same. 

Astarion licks a final strip against Tav’s clit and then pulls back, his fingers still sunk deep within her, all the way to the third knuckle. He roams his eyes over his little love, up to the curve of her abdomen, stretched taut with the result of their coupling. His heart fills with pride as his free hand moves to rest atop her swollen stomach while his eyes wander and settle upon her face. Her mouth is agape, but there’s no sound coming out apart from a soft gasp or ragged breath every time he slides his fingers in and out of her eager entrance. 

Quite a shame, really. She makes the most beautiful noises when she doesn’t hold back. 

Tav’s eyes open, her face flushed and lids drooping with lust. She’s frustrated, he can tell, by the removal of his tongue. Her lips are dropping into a pout; her only response is a huffy whine. 

Astarion clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Now, now, patience, little love,” he chides, lightly, removing his fingers from the wetness of her folds and licking the slickness from them with a hum, all while ignoring the disappointed groan from Tav. “I’ll give you what you want… you just have to give me what I want first.”

Her eyebrow lifts. “And what is that, exactly?”

He grins playfully and presses himself up to standing. On the way to the door, he unbuttons and shrugs off his shirt. He quickly clicks the lock closed and spins around before lowering his trousers. 

Tav is watching him closely; he makes a show of sliding his bottoms down and freeing his cock. His length is twitching with anticipation, begging to plunge into her depths and spill its seed. And hells, she’s a tempting picture. Almost impossible to resist. The thought alone causes a drop of pre-fluid to bead at the head of his cock; he drops a hand to stroke his length. His mind fills with the urge to stuff Tav full and thrust into her until she is sweaty and dripping with his sticky spend. Until it is leaking from her hole and onto her thighs, spilling into the sheets beneath her. Until she smells only of sex and him. 

But he can wait a while longer, if only to make her just as desperate as he feels. If only to pull those pretty little pleas from her mouth. 

“For a start, use those beautiful hands of yours to cast a silence spell for me, won’t you, my love?”

Tav flushes but obliges, her fingers waving to cast a spell she’s performed hundreds of times before, though perhaps not recently, and certainly not in this context. A shroud of silence surrounds the room, insulating them from anything outside the four walls around them. Astarion smirks as he stalks toward the bed, the corners of his lips pulling up in a vulpine smile, eyes dark with lust but glinting with rougery. Quite like the vampire that used to slip into Tav’s bedroll at night. 

He has Tav right where he wants her, and he knows it. He’s no longer a vampire, of course, but perhaps the animalistic, predatory side of him never truly left. He’d always been one to toy with his food, back then in camp, hadn’t he? 

“Now then, darling,” Astarion purrs as he slides back onto the bed and assumes the position he’d been in moments before, his face nestled between her legs. He smiles smug, fingers spreading her folds, wetness seeping from her entrance. “How about we see if I can still make you scream?”

“You are an arrogant bastard, Astarion An–” Tav huffs, a sharp gasp interrupting her chastisement as Astarion’s tongue presses against her clit. Astarion chuckles in response, the sound causing vibrations to pulse against her sex and she gasps again, her hand instinctively coming to cover her mouth. 

Astarion growls in disapproval, extending his own hand out to yank hers from her face, fingers threading through hers to keep them there. She will scream for him; he will continue his efforts until she does. He presses more insistently into that bundle of nerves, swelling now, the result of his ability to play her body perfectly. Tav bucks and a fresh bit of slickness covers his chin. He dips his head lower, tongue sliding against her slit and down further to lap at the oasis between her legs. 

She always tastes divine. 

His lids flutter closed as he inhales the heady aroma of her arousal and tastes the musky sweetness of her sex. His cock throbs at the familiar combination. He laps eagerly and then returns his attention to her clit, using his free hand to plunge two fingers into her entrance and curl, landing on the spot that makes her cry for him. Tav bucks in response, her hips lifting up and against his face, silently pleading for more.

Silently.

Oh. She’s remaining quiet on purpose, isn’t she?

That won’t do. 

Astarion lifts up and away from Tav, his eyebrow arching in somewhat of a challenge. He unconciously licks at the slickness on his lips as he huffs, “Must you insist on being a brat?”

Tav’s eyebrow lifts in return, her gaze steady as she stares back at him, straining to keep her chest from heaving. “What? You thought this would be easy? That I would be easy? Not the first time you’ve miscalculated, my love.” 

“Really,” Astarion says as his eyes narrow, the hand that had been threaded through Tav’s fingers pulling away. He grips into the plushness of her ass, holding her firmly in place. “Don’t pretend I didn’t have you screaming for me in the Elfsong with nothing more than my tongue, Tav.”

“It’s been so long since then, I can hardly remember— ah—!” 

Astarion laves her clit with renewed vigor, his fingers pumping in and out of her entrance in rapid time. His hand grips into Tav’s flesh, holding her against him and minimizing the movement of her hips. His tongue swirls around and around in steady circles, fingers curled to press back against the spot that makes her gasp with every thrust. He can sense she is holding back, in the trembling of her thighs and the movements of her hands, firmly fisted into the bed sheets. He can also tell she’s not far from reaching her peak.

But far enough. 

He can keep her on the edge, like he used to quite frequently, when the taste of her blood was made better by the taste of her wanton anticipation. Back when he would latch onto her neck and suckle more for comfort than sustenance, keeping himself on the edge just as much as he’d kept her there. 

More, perhaps, in truth. 

Astarion rolls his hips at the thought, stiff cock dragging along silken sheets, and lets out a moan of his own. No longer thirsting for blood, but the memory of the intense, desperate thirst and the feeling of utter satiation still causes his desire to flare. 

Nothing and no one has ever or will ever satisfy him as much as Tav. That much is certain. 

Astarion almost gives in and lets Tav come. Almost gives in to the desire to taste her ecstasy in the only way he can, nowadays. Almost. But just before her thighs are about to clamp around his head, he remembers the game at hand. His pride wins out. He slows his fingers and reduces the pressure from his tongue, grinning when he hears Tav whine. 

“You absolute bastard!” Tav hisses, fist pounding into the mattress. 

He chuckles, fingers lazily dragging in and out of Tav’s entrance as he lifts his head up to once again peer over the swell of her abdomen. His eyes lock onto her exposed chest, tits swollen and stretched, skin glistening with sweat. He licks his lips; he can taste nothing but her. He trails his gaze upward, to the sharp, narrowed eyes glaring down at him and smirks as he slowly lifts himself onto his knees. 

“Is that really any way to speak to the father of your children, my love?”

“Is this really any way to treat the mother of your children, darling?”

Astarion pouts, a fake jut of his lower lip before his expression pulls up into a smile, just a bit arrogant, but mostly sweet. “You know what I want, darling. Stop being stubborn. Just give it to me, and I will give you what you want, hm?” 

“You’re going to have to try harder, then, Astarion,” Tav responds, her eyebrow arching again. She lifts her chin in another bit of a challenge. “Or perhaps you just aren’t as skilled as you once were, hm?”

Astarion’s eyes flash something fierce. “Now, now, darling. I know you don’t mean that. Take it back.”

“Make me,” she replies, the challenge a clear invitation as her face flushes in anticipation, eyes shimmering with desire. 

Oh, so that is how it’s going to be, then. 

He’d been much gentler with Tav, in her first pregnancy, far too unsure about the safety of such activities. But this time around, and after much assurance from both Tav and Shadowheart, Astarion has grown quite used to being a bit more… typical in his activities with his wife. He’s rolling her onto her stomach in an instant, pillows dragged lower to cradle her abdomen, fingers digging into her thighs. 

“Is this what you want, darling? For me to take you from behind and make you scream for me?” he growls, skin flushing hot as he tempts himself with the same words he’s using on Tav. His engorged cock is begging for attention. 

But not yet. 

Not until she gives him what he wants. 

Let it be soon.

“Yes,” Tav responds, voice raspy, no longer able to keep still as her desire takes over. She presses herself back against Astarion, the length of his cock sliding temptingly along her folds. 

“Beg, then,” Astarion demands, one hand trailing up her thigh to sit on the curve of her ass. He lifts his hand and smacks down, reveling in the sound of Tav’s delighted keen. But after that, further fucking silence. Tav continues to roll back against him, trying to tempt him into giving her what she wants. 

Naughty thing. 

He smacks the side of her ass again, harder this time, ripping a startled moan from her throat. His cock begins to leak pre-fluid at the sound of her voice mixed with the rocking of her hips. He’s becoming quite desperate, himself, his ears turning hot, cock throbbing, heart thudding in anticipation. 

Perhaps a bit more enticement, then. 

He presses the tip of his cock forward, almost losing control and thrusting to the hilt when he feels the warm suction of her walls. Tav whines when he pulls away and then holds steady, just pressing the tip of himself into her with barely-there thrusts. He purrs, “Won’t you beg for me, darling? Three little words, that’s all it takes.”

A moment of silence. He trails his fingers across her flesh, over the curve of her ass, up the side of her spine, igniting goosebumps in his wake. He rolls his hips languidly, his cock just filling the very entrance of her hole with each pass. 

And then finally. 

Finally. 

“Please fuck me.”

The plea comes out muffled, Tav’s face pressed into the sheets beneath them. Astarion’s cock jumps. He uses the last of his willpower to pull his tip from Tav and slide instead along her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. He’s won. And yet, he cannot resist the urge to tease her just a bit further. 

“Mm… what was that, dear? I can’t quite hear you past the pillow.”

Tav lifts and turns her head, her eyes wide and desperate. Face flushed red, sweat glistening down her cheeks. She murmurs her second plea, almost a whine, nearly breathless, “Please fuck me… daddy.”

His cock aches. 

Oh, she knows exactly what she is doing. Little devil. 

Without another word Astarion slams himself into her entrance, immediately taking her to the hilt. Tav’s head rears back as she moans, loudly, at the sensation of being filled. Astarion’s length throbs and threatens to spill on impact. He watches Tav, her eyes still turned toward him as she begins to press back into him again. 

“So very eager, aren’t you, love?” he asks, as his hips begin to roll in time with her movements. Before long, he is picking up the pace and she is following. Her walls clench around him in a steady rhythm. His arm wraps around her waist — not a particularly easy feat nowadays — fingers searching for her clit. He finds the nub and begins working it insistently; Tav emits high keens as he rubs his fingers into her clit. “Do you want to come, darling?”

Tav whines when Astarion thrusts into her quite sharply, hips canting at a near-supernatural pace. The plushness of her ass bounces with each thrust, cushioning the impact of his harsh movements. “Yes!”

“Then won’t you come for me?” Astarion coaxes in a coo, groaning as he feels Tav clench and pulse around him, signaling her imminent release. He adjusts his hips just slightly, aiming for the spot inside her walls that makes her come undone, and knowing he’s found it when she lets out a sound that is something of a whining scream. He grins. “There we go… let me hear you, my sweet.”

Another roll of his hips and Tav is gone, her head tossing back as she braces herself on all fours, no longer able to match Astarion’s movements. Her cunt wraps around him eagerly, pulsing against the engorged length of his cock. She reaches a near-whistling shriek midway through her orgasm and the sound quickly causes Astarion’s resolve to shatter. He utters some sort of incoherent praise as his cock swells and then twitches while he loses himself inside her greedy walls. 

He needed this. She needed this. It had been far too long. 

The two are bound together, each riding the aftershocks of release. Both heaving with exertion and coated in a thin layer of sweat. Finally, Astarion runs a hand up to Tav’s waist, settling gently. “Everything alright, my love?”

Tav nods her response and then groans, chuckling softly. “I think… I think I’m going to need help rolling back over, Astarion.” 

Astarion laughs as he removes himself from Tav, arms moving to support her as she rolls onto her back with a labored huff. She ends the Silence spell with a lazy wave of her hand and yawns. Her eyes flutter closed as a hand trails down to her abdomen and rests upon her bump.

“I’ll need you to start making use of that spell more often, darling,” Astarion murmurs as he presses a kiss into her forehead with a smile. His poor little love is already drifting back into the nap he’d pulled her from. 

“Mmm…” she agrees, already half asleep, her other hand instinctively searching for his. He laces their fingers together as he lays down beside her, pulling the covers over them both, intent on joining her for a nap. Best to get their rest while they both can. 

In a few more weeks, sleep will be nothing but a memory. 

[starshideurfics]

Buzzed, Buzzing - part 2

part 1

Buzzed, Buzzing

JQ, you can’t go dropping TWO horny photoshoots on us in less than a week!

steddie, omegaverse, Buzzed part 2, mdni 🔞

Finally being with Eddie is a dream. At least for the week he’s in town, fully foregoing Steve’s guest room and its comfy mattress.

Instead, it’s a week of Eddie wrapped around Steve each night, skin touching skin, bodies sated in a bone-deep way Steve’s never felt before.

A week of waking up to Eddie’s lips on his neck, to whispers of, “Morning, Puppy,” and sleepy yawns, arms tugging him closer and closer.

A week of Robin saying, “I’m happy for you, truly, but could you try going five minutes without swapping spit?!” only for Eddie to look her dead in the eye and lick whatever part of Steve is closest to his mouth.

A week of Steve floating on a cloud of affection and hormones.

Then Eddie has to leave, head to Chicago and buckle down for long days filming.

Steve mopes their whole last morning, sneaking shirts out of Eddie’s suitcase until the alpha relents and dumps out his dirty laundry. “Put ‘em all in your nest, I can get new shirts.”

Steve purrs, gathers the shirts, and herds Eddie back to his room for a last quickie before Eddie’s Uber arrives.

Being apart sucks. They videochat daily, text constantly, but Steve still misses Eddie every second he’s gone. So, he’s back where he started, mooning over pics on his phone, scenting at Eddie’s boxers as he works three fingers into his aching pussy.

He’s holding out, but Steve is counting down the days until shooting wraps, when Eddie would fly straight to Indy.

Steve’s on his lunch break, typing out a response to Eddie’s latest text as he shove pretzel thins and hummus in his mouth, when his phone starts buzzing.

Robin is calling, from the other end of the building. “Hey, Robbie, need me to get you a coke zero?” he asks instead of saying hello.

“Don’t tell me you got rid of your Munson-stalking web alert, because that’s the only reason I can think of for why you aren’t freaking out!”

He did, not really needing it when he has Eddie checking in with him at least hourly. “What? Robin, I’m texting with Eddie right now, what do you think I missed?”

“Just, look him up; your ADHD gremlin boyfriend probably forgot to mention it!”

Steve opens google, starts typing Eddie’s name and only gets as far as “ED” before autofill finishes it for him.

A new photoshoot and accompanying interview. Steve gets caught by a photo of Eddie eating a peach. It’s such a thirst trap, but it makes Steve smile.

Besides, there are other notes, but Steve’s scent has always been peach-forward. It might be a coincidence. Steve doesn’t think it is.

He reads the interview; about his current project, lots on the movie coming out next month that filmed a year ago, and his costars including a chill cat.

But right under the peach picture is a question about his personal life, how he stays grounded and connected when he’s constantly moving around for work. 

Eddie starts, as he always does, with Wayne, his friends, his charity work, the arts scholarship he funds.

“The truth is that it’s all for my partner. Like, I want to put good into the world, help kids like me who didn’t have the best start in life, but my focus is on being good enough for him, being the kind of person he can be proud of.” 

The journalist asks him to elaborate.

She writes about Eddie’s smile, the small one where he averts his gaze, emotions too big to share. “I dunno, just that he’s got me beat by a mile—he’s a teacher, middle school, you know, the worst time in a kid’s life. And he loves it!”

More words on Eddie’s laugh and kind eyes.

“So, yeah, the people I love, the people who love me, that’s how I keep my head on straight. That’s what it’s all about, right? Family, friends. Pack.”

Steve’s vision goes blurry on the last little paragraph. He wipes the tears from his eyes and pulls out his phone.

Just read the article! I’ve always been proud of you ❤️

Three little dots appear immediately to show Eddie’s typing, but they disappear and instead Steve’s phone buzzes with a call.

“I forgot that was coming out today! I should have warned you!”

Steve grins. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but thank you. And it wasn’t too much? I’m trying to keep my private life private, but if I can’t talk to you, I wanna talk about you. All the time. Because I fucking miss you, Puppy.”

“It’s okay,” Steve reiterates. “I miss you, too. So much. Wish you were here.”

The whine he lets out makes Eddie chuckle, low and dark. “Wish I had you here, could show you how much I miss you. At least you’ve got some new visual aides, but maybe tonight, when I call you could show me… Get your fingers wet for me.”

Steve lets out another breathy whine. “Yeah, want that.” He presses his legs together, tries to tamp down the feelings of desire before he gets too wet at work. “Miss your fingers, though.”

“Good,” Eddie husks. Steve can hear him lick his lips, so he knows Eddie’s nervous. “And it was supposed to be a surprise. But I’ve got the weekend off. My flight gets in at 9 on Friday night.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Shared Camomile[*]

Elain x fem!reader

synopsis: after months of practically living together, Elain finally broaches the topic she’s been longing to share with you. You’re reluctant, doubtful, nervous. Two females? That can’t be right. So Elain takes it on herself to go out into her little garden to find something to help convince you of what you should already know. That you’re hers. 

a/n: cannot believe it’s taken this long for me to write something like this for Elain

warnings: use of an aphrodisiac/love potion from Elain, technically dubcon, smut, facesitting, fingering, pussy eating, squirting, fluff for my favourite girl 🩷🧡💛

word count: 3,662

“What?” You ask, perplexed, tilting your head slightly before your lips are stretching in a wide smile, cheeks aching as they flush with laughter. “Move in together? You are funny Elain.” 

Dark, rich cocoa eyes blink at you quietly from across the table, her burnished gold hair hanging in full ringlets, spilling over her shoulders while small coils of silky hair quirk and twist over her brow. Between you is a cooling tray, holding the berry tarts you’d spent the morning lovingly making, flour-dusted aprons doing little to prevent the powdery mess from puffing into the air and dusting the fabric of your dresses. The smell is delicious, able to pick out the distinct citrus of the lemon and orange, the pleasant apricot and sweet blackberry, each held within a circle of thick, crispy pastry, golden-brown on its crust and slightly flaky. 

“Do you really find it so absurd?” She asks, a touch fainter than before, and you think you catch a look of hurt across her pretty features. You blink, caught off guard by her expression—you’d thought it a joke. “I…” you fumble briefly, unsure of yourself. “Is it…normal for two women to live together in the human lands?” You ask tentatively. “I had understood it was much the same as it is here, from how you’d spoken about…” She nods her head faintly, neither of you particularly wanting to mention the name of her past human lover. 

“No, you’re right,” she says softly, glancing down over the tray of delicious pastries, still steaming slightly with heat, their centres looking soft and slightly more liquid than they should. Once they’re cool, they’ll possess a more jam-like consistency—a little thicker, and less prone to spilling down one’s front after a bite. “But folk seem more content here. Happy to let people love,” Elain says, warm brown eyes raising to yours, her long lashes fluttering slightly with nerves that only fae eyes could pick out.  

“Besides,” she continues, standing straighter, fingers splaying across the kitchen counter, “you spend so much time in this house, with me, that nothing much would really change…” 

“Yes, but don’t you think people might get the wrong idea?” You counter. It’s a nice idea—lovely, even—but nice things aren’t always possible to have. Elain inclines her chin a little, “and what would be the wrong idea, in this case?” 

Your brow furrows. “That we’re lovers,” you reply, before wincing. “Not that two females loving each other in that way is wrong,” you swiftly amend, “just that, that’s not what it would be for us. People would get the wrong impression.” 

“You don’t…” Elain begins faintly, watching you as if in a daze, before shaking her head, the pretty, dark gold ringlets jostling with the motion. “Maybe we should have this conversation another time. In the evening, when we’ll have longer for a deeper discussion.” 

Elain smiles a little, a familiar softness to her features, and you can’t help the one that spreads across your mouth in reply. 

“Tea?” She offers. 

You nod, happy to accept whatever strange new herbal concoction she’ll serve you.

————

You swallow thickly, reaching for the glass of chilled, crystal-clear water on the small table, speckles of condensation fogging up its sides, small droplets gathering before trickling down over your hot fingers. 

You drink deeply, but it doesn’t seem to help with the warmth that’s been steadily accumulating within your body. The house shouldn’t be this hot, and yet you find yourself reaching to undo another button on your blouse, enough that if anyone else were accompanying you in the parlour, they would have an ample view of the lace peaking out from beneath the soft fabric of your shirt. 

Anxiously, you rearrange yourself in the large armchair, the circular, hand-embroidered pillows being removed from behind you, and tossed onto the long sofa in the hopes you’ll feel a bit cooler. Quilts hang over the back of each chair, so as to keep warm in the evenings during winter, but as it currently stands you can hardly bear to look at them without a wave of heat washing through your body. 

Taking another deep drink, you attempt to refocus your mind on the little botanical book you’d picked up from Elain’s night-stand a few days ago, steadily leafing through it while your friend works outside in her garden, watering plants, repotting small flowers, and so on. Usually you find yourself sitting in one of the hanging chairs—circular seats woven like bird nests, inlaid with pillows and cushions to prop up one’s back, allowing the user to rock faintly on the comfy swing—watching as the burned-orange of the sun spills over Elain as she works. It’s a pleasant routine the two of you enjoy during the warmer months, while most things are blooming, branches hanging heavy with fruits that’re full and bursting with juice, vibrant petals that unfurl in bright clusters of colour and aroma. 

Instead you’d retreated for the time being, having thought the evening haze was somehow getting to you more than usual, wanting to slink into the relative coolness of the indoors until the heat had passed and you could return. But it hadn’t passed, and you’re really considering undoing another pearly button. Considering hiking your skirts a little higher too, despite the almost sheer fabric. 

————

Elain glances up from the gardening bed, noting how far the sun has descended in the sky, the lengthening of the shadows. 

You’d disappeared a little over an hour ago, mumbling about wanting to cool off, and Elain would guess you’ll likely be wanting to strip the clothes from your body about now. She glances away briefly, a hot flush overcoming her cheeks, the smallest tinge of guilt in her heart. But ultimately it’s harmless, she assures and reassures herself, it’s not like she’s doing something you truly would hate her for. She’s just…bringing to the surface what already exists. Hurrying along the blossoming of a flower by nurturing and nourishing it correctly. 

You’ll be blooming for her in no time. 

You likely already are. 

Elain tugs the fullness of her lower lip between her teeth at the thought. 

She’s no stranger to these mental images, and has grown rather comfortable with them over the years. But she’s tired of having to fight them off, of feeling the slightest ounce of shame in her heart when she’s failed, and has had to look you in the eyes the next morning, knowing yours are the eyes she came to. Your nose, your mouth, your features she’d pictured…your scent she’d tried to imagine…your sex she’d…

Elain shakes her head, raising from the gardening bed. Inside you’re probably melting like a toffee left in the summer’s sun, dripping sticky sweetness for her plunge her tongue into. All she needs to do now is to stop by the washroom to clean her hands, then she can go see how your body is reacting to the sweet ambrosia plant she’d been carefully nurturing these past few months. Reacting to the sun dried leaves she’d crushed up to make a tea out of. 

She can practically taste you already. 

————

You hadn’t realised how far you’d spiral when you’d started. 

Hadn’t realised how deeply the heat would numb your mind when you’d fumbled your way to the sofa on shaky legs, and laid yourself across its plush length.

Hadn’t realised how exposed you would be when you’d rolled onto your side, plucking a cushion up, and shyly placing it between your thighs, starting off with small rolls of your hips before your movements became more languid. 

Now your hair is messy, silky locks having separated from your up-do, baby strands curling at your temples and the nape of your neck. A few more pearly buttons have been popped out, leaving you in the thin white vest you’d donned this morning beneath your dress, and your skirts have pooled around your waist. 

Still you’re too hot, feeling the dampness that’s gathered along your spine, the slight perspiration between and beneath the swell of your breasts and you could cry from the discomfort. If you could only remove your clothes entirely, then maybe you’d feel an ounce of relief…but what if Elain finds you? A fresh wave of heat splashes over you, and you think a moan slips out, burying your face in the pillow you’re resting on. You need to take your clothes off…you’re going to overheat if you keep like this… 

With trembling fingers and weakened muscles you manage to sit up enough to tug the material from your body, the skirts further mussing your hair as they caress over your shoulders. As soon as you can you’re flopping back into the cushioning, panting as you reposition the pillow between your thighs, shifting so the seam is pressing flush with your heat…but your underwear is still in the way…

You whine faintly.

You just want relief…

“Are you—…” 

Your half-lidded gaze meets a fully dilated set of cocoa, a deep, apricot flush on her sugar-powdered cheeks. 

Fresh heat licks across your skin, a soft moan dragging from your lips as your body melts over the sofa. Heavy pants spill from your mouth as you gaze at her, lids fluttering faintly in your attempts to keep watching her. Elain would be perfect…the perfect shape, the perfect feel, the perfect heat to soothe your own… Elain can fix this. 

“E…Elain…” you call out, trying to push yourself up into a sitting position, keeping the pillow flush between your thighs. “Elain…please…” 

Her mouth opens as if to speak, but she can’t find her words, her feet tipping into motion as she’s carried silently across the floor until she’s reached you. “What…—” But you cut her off when you reach for her, fingers linking with her own pristine set, squeezing her lightly. “Elain,” you cry softly, “please… Please, I need…” 

You watch a little fearfully as her lips tug up at the corners, her eyes still wide with infatuation, transfixed on the lithe motions of your form, the way your hips glide over the cushion in attempts to feel some kind of friction. 

“What do you want?” She asks lowly, hunger in her usually sweet eyes, and you could cry. You are crying. “You…!” You beg softly, gripping her tighter, “you, Elain. Please!” She hums with faint amusement, settling lower to the floor so you’re at eye level. “How?” She asks gently, watching you with a leisure that’s not at all appropriate for the undercurrent of energy that’s simmering beneath your skin.

“Hotly. Messily,” you plead, trying to pull her closer, “immediately.”

“Hmm? But we aren’t lovers?” She points out, still smiling faintly, hungry warmth curving her full mouth. Full, berry-coloured lips that you bet would taste far better than any of the tarts on the counter. You don’t know how to respond to that other than with a desperate, pleading look, squeezing her hand beseechingly, inclining your head to shyly offer your mouth. 

Her eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters as she leans forward, dark golden ringlets of hair teasingly brushing against your unfairly sensitive collar bones, lips grazing your own. “What do you want?” She repeats softly, quieter than a breath, able to feel each syllable over your mouth. “Elain,” you answer in return, fingers trembling, so close to getting what you need. 

You feel the flutter of her lashes against your cheek, the ticklish fan of breath across your lips as she laughs softly, before gently setting her mouth atop your own. 

A hot tear escapes down your cheek, hips winding over the soft cushion as she rests over you, and you shyly press back, curving up into her as you incline your chin, heart fluttering in your chest wildly at the intimacy. 

“You want some more, don’t you?” She asks when she’s pulled away, and you nod desperately, more than a little out of it, with the flush that’s heating your body, the arousal that’s softening your limbs. “Alright,” she murmurs, still with that strangely wicked smile on her lovely lips, “but keep still.” 

You whine when she pulls away, then shut up when she begins disrobing herself, leaving her bare save for the underwear clinging to her hips, perfectly matching your own state of undress. “What do you think?” She asks lightly, both her arms pulled back from her chest, hands likely wrapped together at her back, allowing you to take her in. Your eyes nearly roll, needing her to put her body on you now, needing to kiss her again, to touch her and taste her. “Let me taste you…” you beg without thinking, causing her flush to deepen, parting the stance of her delicate feet ever so slightly. 

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” she replies softly, undeniable arousal rolling from her body, perfuming the room with a scent like vanilla, but slightly muskier, slightly heavier. It smells delicious. Like something you’d delight in having in your mouth. 

Elain smiles at your dazed expression, before dipping her fingers slowly beneath the band of her underwear, liking how your hips take on a more urgent wind over the pillow, still so desperate as the tea works its properties into your bloodstream, short-circuiting your mind to bring out your basest desires. 

“You want a taste?” Elain recalls, and you whine when you pick up the wet noises coming from between her thighs, how her arousal becomes more concentrated, and you nod your head. “Please, Elain,” you moan breathlessly, “come closer…” 

“I’ll come where I like,” she replies, making your spine arch.

“Please,” you beg, “come over here.” 

It seems she finally takes pity on you, slowly making her way over to you. Your eyes flutter lightly when her fingertips brush hair from your face, the ones with her arousal on brushing teasingly across your lips, and you part them needfully for her. Tipping upward into her touch, so, so, desperate for more. Elain reads that in your expression, and smiles. “If I let you have a taste,” she murmurs, fingers pressing a little closer to your mouth, so close to slipping inside, “you think it might be nice if you stayed?” 

You nod dimly, staring up at her pretty, cocoa-coloured eyes. 

“Answer me, sweet pea,” she instructs.

“I’ll stay,” you whisper back. 

Elain smiles fully, and the moment feels so right it’s almost enough to take you out of the haze. But then she’s carefully swinging a leg over you, her lovely back turned so she can peer down your body, and for the first time that evening you’re aware of your mouth watering. “I knew you’d come round to it,” she says breathlessly, her thighs trembling slightly with adrenaline and anticipation. After all this time she’s so close to having you—it’ll no longer be restricted to her dreams, or her fantasies. “You’re being such a good girl for me.” 

“Elain,” you beg, lips feeling numb and tingly, just so desperate to be entirely swept away by her fragrance, her feel, her flavour. “Elain, please…” you breathe, staring longingly between her parted thighs, able to arrange just how well she’ll fit over your face. 

“Alright, sweet thing,” she murmurs, fingers tracing across your stomach, feeling across the soft expanse as if she’s studying new land under her jurisdiction, brushing the band of your underwear. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Thoughts and words are obliterated away as she settles over you, the heat of her soft skin feeling so right and familiar, and your eyes slide shut in pleasure. In a far away part of your conscious, your body raises its hands to slide over her thighs, slinking over her hips to pull her flush to your mouth, able to feel the dampness of the fabric against your nose and lips, and—Gods she’s perfect. 

Elain’s fingertips teasingly trace over your abdomen, watching how tiny muscles flutter and contract beneath her ticklish touch, gently prying the pillow away from between your thighs to make room for her own hands. She swallows heavily, spine curving as she experimentally shifts her hips over you, revelling in the press of your mouth and nose against her heat. 

“Open your mouth,” she breathes, fingers trembling as they push your underwear away, licking her lips as she spots the gleaming threads of slick that are webbing between the wet fabric and your wetter cunt. You don’t respond, and she blinks, shifting her hips to glance over her shoulder—your eyes are closed, and she can feel the heat radiating from your body, the absolutely blissed out expression on your features. Her heart fumbles, and she decides to let you enjoy yourself for the moment—her pleasure is secondary to your own. 

“That’s it, sweet girl,” she says instead, palm cupping your bare heat, feeling your hips buck into her hand at the promise of stimulation. “Lay back and enjoy it,” she goads, running her fingers over your cunt, pressing lightly at your clit, feeling how a pulse of pleasure passes through you at the light touch alone. “So lovely and wet—is this all for me?” 

A shiver of pure pleasure drips down her spine at the deluded moan you breathe onto her cunt, thighs parting as she languidly rolls her hips over you, shuddering with blissful exuberance at the feel of your mouth and nose pressing so delightfully against her. Enough so that she raises them just enough to vanish the fabric away, before gently reseating herself atop of you, taking a moment to bask in the intimate feel. The strangely territorial feel as she winds her hips, knowing your nose, lips, and chin will be gleaming with her arousal. Hers. 

Biting her lip, she spreads your legs wider, rolling the pads of her fingers over your clit carefully, guessing how sensitive the ambrosia plant tea will have made you. And she’s completely right. Rewarded with a lovely whimper that causes her skin to prickle, storing away the small noise and already thinking what she can do to make you repeat it. 

“Do that again,” she asks, fingers running down over your wet cunt, light and teasing in her touch, tauntingly circling your entrance, feeling as you try to suction her deeper, tightening around nothing. You release a whine, and Elain smiles faintly, cupping one of her breasts as she thumbs across the peak, soothing their sensitivity as her head tips back from the relief. “That’s it,” she encourages, “all you need to do is keep making those sounds for me okay? Keep telling me what you like, how you’re feeling. Don’t try to hide them from me.” 

You moan loudly when her fingers sink inside of you, two gently plying you apart, pumping and curling while the heel of her palm glides across your gleaming clit, hips bucking needfully up into her hand as your arousal begins to be satiated. “Elain…” you moan without reason, simply unable to think of any other noise to make as her heavenly scent filters into your lungs, spreads through your body, following your instincts to open your mouth, and lick. 

Elain’s spine curves, a moan spilling from her lips as you softly apply yourself, tongue flattening over her clit, swiping up through her centre to kiss at her entrance, feeling dizzy from the eroticism of laying your mouth over such an intimate part of her. Feeling her coat your mouth like a lip gloss. You’d wear her every chance you could get. 

“That’s it…” she moans, fingers rubbing against a spot inside of you, and your arms coil over her pretty hips, pulling her flush against your face, making out with her pussy to hear more of those sounds, taste more of her flavour, have more of her coating you like she owns you. 

Elain sighs contentedly, hips rocking over your mouth before she’s dipping down, and you cry out onto her when her tongue swipes across your clit, thighs shaking with the sensitivity—how she licks through your centre, circling and suckling the apex of your thighs while her fingers are working you so well. The pressure she’s creating around your clit, her scent in your lungs and her taste in your mouth, the hot, feminine weight of her over your lips partnered with the delightfully full press of her fingers, how they curl against spots even you hadn’t know you had, her tongue licking at your clit, saliva mixing with your slick…so messy… 

You cry out as you come, and Elain gasps as you squirt, surprised as the liquid arcs from your pretty cunt. Her lips part on the surprised inhale, before she’s being driven by hunger, sealing her mouth over you entirely, tasting as much of you as she can, working her wonderfully wicked tongue to draw out your orgasm, the orgasm that belongs to her.

She feels it as she’s tipped over the edge, at last pulling away from your overstimulated cunt to spread her thighs wider and grind over your mouth, dragging her clit over the hot swell of your tongue, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure and all she can think about is getting to turn around and put her mouth over your own. Which is exactly what she does, before the aftershocks have even completely faded, tasting herself on your lips and tongue, flicking against the roof of your mouth as she presses her body closer to you, thigh now pressing between your own, feeling a strange sense of pride as you grind against her, wanting more so desperately. 

Elain can tell from your scent alone you’ll be needing much more than just one orgasm to get you past the herbal-induced heatwave she’s subjected you to. 

And she’s more than delighted to help you see each and every wave through to the end. 

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

[444paigebueckers]

PART 1: out of my league - paige bueckers

prologue

✿𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚞𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✿𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚄𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚘𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜, 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕?

✿𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐

✿𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 615

✿𝙰𝙽: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠/ 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜! 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 :)

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ

August 2nd. The day you finally met her.

It all began as you walked through the quad, approaching the athletic building to prepare for your first day of pre-season. You quickly noticed that Paige and the basketball team had also been on campus before the start of classes later that month. "God she's even more gorgeous in person," you thought to yourself as you saw her and KK making a TikTok in the quad. You couldn't help but stare at the way she moved, her toned arms distracting you from your walk to your destination. "Lock in", you couldn't let her see you admiring her and her muscles from afar, so you broke your long-lasting glance towards her and moved quickly towards the doors of the athletic building.

Your first practice of pre-season went well that day, but you couldn't stop thinking about Paige. Even some of your new teammates noticed your dazed and confused state and decided to question you.

"Y/N what's on your mind?"

"You doing okay?"

The questions rang through your head. You've been caught. You tried to play it off nonchalantly, "Oh it's nothing, just didn't get much sleep last night," you lied.

Maria, your roommate/teammate didn't buy it for a second. However, she decided to keep it quiet until you got into a more private setting. On the walk back to your dorm, in the same area where you saw KK and Paige earlier, she finally broke the silence. "So what was up with your distant attitude earlier?", she pried. Your eyes widened as she brought it back up. You gulp before beginning in the form of a whisper, "Maria, I'm serious you can't say anything okay?". She nods in return. You look around before continuing, "So there may or may not be this girl..." you gush. "It's Paige Bueckers, you know the school's star basketball player? I mean I haven't met her but she's just so... I don't know. I saw her earlier and couldn't help but stare. I'm not sure if she saw me but I'm scared she thought I was some sort of lurker." Maria takes this in and nods, but before she can say anything she's interrupted by a blonde girl, one you quickly recognize as the girl you'd been crushing on all summer. She jogs up to you both from behind, likely emerging from the athletics building as well. "Hey, did one of you happen to misplace this water bottle?" She questions. "Holy shit. Where did she come from? Did she hear all of that?", your mind races as you make eye contact with Paige, staring at her blankly. "Hello? Can you hear me?" She begins to get impatient and you snap out of your daze. "Oh...yeah I think that may be mine actually...sorry that you had to go on a hunt to find its owner." You reply, apologetically. "Yeah, well I figured it was an athlete's since there's, like, no one on campus yet other than people here for pre-season." She explains, extending the water bottle towards you. You quickly make eye contact with Maria before reaching out your own hand to grab it from Paige. As you grab the bottle, your hands graze hers and you can't help but anxiously meet her eyes. "Seriously, thank you so much, I don't know what I would've done in practice tomorrow without this." You awkwardly laugh. "Hey, no problem. I don't have any issue looking out for a freshie." She says, winking at you. The wink from the sophomore caused you to melt. You'd definitely replay this moment in your mind for the rest of the night, maybe even the rest of the week.