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messylustt · 10 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲...

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 7.7k words.

fic masterlist previous part pt nine (finale)

smut; blood kink??; female oral; he’s got fangs and claws, im sure theres a kink for that (biting etc); a lil bit of web play (basically instead of rope or cuffs); dominant/top miguel (for the most part hehe); praising; first time; unprotected (but imagine that for some reason you are on birth control); fluff; for the serum stuff that Miguel takes I am totally making the reason why he takes it up (coz there was so many different variables); slight violence + mentions of small injuries — god, was his touches something else. the feel of him and the feel of you. miguel finally gets to have you. and would you look at that…you’ve all formed a little plan to get rid of the masked men once and for all.

“Mm.” Miguel hums to himself, eyeing your laid out body, before he’s lifting a fraction of your shirt.

Your legs are still wide and around his waist, and his hands move to widen them even more, pushing them up slightly, as he leans down towards your stomach placing open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Goosebumps almost immediately appear, even more so when you feel his tongue lick out along the side of your waist.

It was where his claw marks were. Where he had accidentally cut you. Your breathing stutters as he licks off some of the blood, his large hands holding your thighs. At the whole ordeal your head rolls back, your teeth coming down to bite down on your lip. Hard. It was a type of sting that sent pleasurable shocks through your body.

Miguel’s licks and kisses lead down your stomach to the edge of your pants. He looks up at you from between your legs. “Cariño, if I’m finally gonna get to taste you…I’m gonna need you to see.” He has a sly smirk edging his lips as you glance towards him.

“Finally?” You breathlessly question. He said that as if he’d been wanting to do this for forever.

But his eyes narrow a fraction, crawling up your body, he tilts your chin up as your wide eyes catch his. His hand slips to hold part of your throat as he leans forward and runs his tongue right across your bottom lip. You had bit down hard. Hard enough to draw blood.

You could see the red on his tongue when he drew away, a lustful gaze very prominent in his matching coloured eyes. “Ay, you have no idea…” He whispers in response. And just as he goes to go back down your body you grab him into a kiss.

One he easily accepts, his hand supporting the back of your neck, so that it didn’t strain from the lean up. You then shake your head, because his hand had begun to unbutton your pants, clearly thinking about going back down your body. “You don’t have to do that.” You say, holding part of his hair.

But he doesn’t listen, going back to the end of the bed, as he pulls (rips) your pants off, your panties now visible to his hungry eyes. “Miguel—“

“Maybe this should be my side of the deal?” He widens your legs, you having closed them. His gaze hasn’t shifted from your panties, and more or less your pussy. “You know what…yeah…it is.”

“Really, it’s…” you drift off, not because you don’t want him to. God, you felt the urge to clench your thighs at the thought. It’s just… “I’ve never…”

Miguel looks up at you, slowly catching on. He held back an almost satisfied grin as he kissed your open thigh, dragging his lips along your skin before he speaks. “I’ll be so gentle…cariño.” His kisses move to your inner thigh. “So…so, gentle.” His gaze gets caught up again in your clothed pussy, as his fingers itch to reach out.

“I promise…that’s all I wanna do… I wanna make you feel good. You wanna feel good…right, y/n?” It’s more so a demand now, his low tone making you really want to close your legs. He looks back up at you, his breath now right over your pussy, making it clench around nothing.

“Christ…” You breathe, staring down at the visual of Miguel O’hara between your legs.

“Just…” He licks his lips, leaning closer to your clothed pussy, as his claws extended over your bare thighs. “Just a try…to try…see how you like it.”

Then you find yourself nodding. And Miguel feels elated, as he moved one hand towards your pussy his breath still warm against it. He then uses the pad of his thumb to press and slowly rub against your covered clit.

Your hips jolt, making Miguel hold your stomach down with his free hand, your leg now leaning over his shoulder. “Gotta stay still, cariño…gotta stay still for me…hm?”

He began to rub in circles, noticing a forming wet patch. “Ay, y/n…see? It does feel good.” He breathes. “It feels so good.” He mutters again to himself this time, quickening his fingers’ movements, making your hips unintentionally shift again. His hand on your stomach pressed you further into his bed, his tongue coming out to lick the cotton of your panties.

A small mix of a hitch of your breath and a whimper falls from your lips. “That feel good? Yeah?” Miguel’s finger quickens over your clit, his tongue poking out and close to your dripping hole.

“Miguel—” You cut yourself off, a shameful quiet moan slipping.

“Dios, it’s like you’ve never been touched.” He says breathlessly, as his rubbing soon grew not nearly enough. Miguel used one of his claws to pull away the edge of your panties, that rested by your lower stomach. He looks up at you again to see an almost shy look spreading across your face.

Miguel thought you only meant that you’d never been eaten out before. Not that you’d never had sex. His breathing grows shorter at the realisation that you’d never been touched. At all. No one else has seen you like this…and no one else ever will.

“Lift your hips.” He mutters quickly. “Come on.” He sounds close to impatience. So much so that he actually gives up on pulling your panties off, and instead decides to just rip them with his fangs.

You gasp as the air hits your exposed pussy, Miguel having kept your legs spread, as he tossed your destroyed panties to the side.

“Mm, such a pretty little thing who can’t stay still…and who’s so…wet.” He grinned, two of his fingers moving to experimentally run up your soaked slit. “Look at you…” He’s breathless. “Practically dripping onto my fingers. Already…cariño?”

Your breathing has given up on trying to pick a rhythmic beat. Your mind can’t focus on anything else but the feel of Miguel’s fingers. Which keep swirling and moving up and down your pussy, spreading your arousal around. He’s taking his time, and it makes you go against his hand on your stomach—your hips moving slightly down into him.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop moving?” His question is a straight demand. “I want to enjoy myself. For as long…as I want.” His warm breath went back to hovering over your pussy, as his hand drew away to lick his fingers clean. Your eyes widen at this, your breathing getting choked in your throat. “So…sweet. Did you know that you tasted this sweet?…No…I bet you didn’t. My sweet innocent girl, huh?”

He wrapped his hand back around your thighs, his claws digging into your flesh—not to cause harm but to leave a possible indent. He’d be making many more anyway. And just as his tongue was about to lean forward and taste he spoke, muttering quickly as he looked up at you. Though he was impatient to try, he didn’t want you do be too nervous. “‘You’re gonna let me try…right? Make you feel good, as I said I would? Por favor….cariño. You can tell me to stop…” He leans a little closer, his breath now tickling your throbbing clit.

You quickly nod. “I need a proper answer.” He says, to which you mutter a quick. “Yes…yes.”

Miguel doesn’t hesitate as he immediately leans all the way, and licks a long stripe up your entire pussy. You gulp—the cold feel of his tongue and spit contrasting with your heated core, making your eyes want to roll.

Miguel groaned into you, as he lapped at your pussy, easily becoming addicted to yet another part of you. “Mm…taste so good for me…so good…just for me right?” He mutters out, looking back up at you—his hair strewn over his forehead as his tongue gave your pussy kitten licks. “Oh—god, Miguel.” You moaned out, your chest heaving up and down.

“Hm?” He wanted an answer, but he wasn’t leaving your pussy alone. So through choked pleasure you tried to speak. “Y-yes…for…you.”

“That’s right…” He spoke to your clit now. “All for me.” He began to suck, making your back arch off the bed, and this time Miguel let’s you, his hand instead sliding up your stomach, and under your shirt, going straight for the edge of your bra.

His claws softly dragged across your skin, all the way around to your back, managing to unclip your bra. How he could multitask so well, you’d love to know. Pulling your bra out from under your shirt, he pushed the material up, exposing your tits.

His tongue didn’t let up its feverish sucking, licking, and kissing. Miguel’s small groans of approval and lust sending multitudes of shivers up your spine—your entire body. Then the tip of his claw brushes over one of your already peaked nipples.

The hitch in your breath was hint enough to Miguel that you liked it. He occasionally shifted from rubbing the pad of his finger in circles over your nipple, to pinching it gently between his claws. Then as his tongue began to press harder, closer to your dripping hole his large hand completely wrapped around your tit, squeezing and playing with it.

Your head is now knocked back against Miguel’s pillow, just as his tongue slightly thrusts inside your pussy. You gasp at the feeling. “Carajo…your pretty little hole is so…tight.”

Your body is beginning to sweat, your face entirely flushed as Miguel continues to thrust his long tongue inside you, his nose brushing along your throbbing clit. God, was it throbbing. You began to slightly squirm under his tongues abuse, feeling your stomach tightening.

“Mm.” Miguel chuckled into your pussy. “Are you gonna cum?” His tone is almost teasing, his hand continuing to massage your tit—having moved to your other one. “Cause it feels like your gonna cum all…over my tongue. Isn’t that right, cariño?”

You hastily nod, breathing heavy as your stomach tightens. “Uh…I’m—“

Miguel places his whole mouth over your pussy, continuing his pleasurable torture, making your back arch off the bed, as your orgasm crashes over you. “Oh, fuck—Miguel.” Your breathy moan makes Miguel ache in his suit. A suit he’d very much had enough of.

Miguel makes sure he eats up all your cum, not moving away from your pussy until your thighs are twitching with slight overstimulation. When he leaves your cunt, your back slumps against the mattress, breathing extremely hard, your forehead sheened with sweat. In one swift movement Miguel is pulling his suit off, letting your gaze stop on his hips and chest and abs.

He’s crawling back over your body, not before pulling you closer to him by your thighs. He cages you in, leaning closer to your face, as he still licks his lips. He leant forward and slowly—torturously—kissed your cheek. “Thanks, cariño.” He whispered in your ear, his tongue slightly darting out in a lick. He couldn’t resist, your skin just tasted so delicious.

With his large body caging you in and his kisses moving to your neck you manage to slip your hand into his hair, pulling his head back. You could almost feel him entirely, if he just leaned his hips down a fraction. But he seemed to enjoy the teasing, so you decide to grip harder on his hair, earning that same tiny whimper that contradicted his entire attitude, as you wrapped your legs tighter around his hips.

And with his loosened form—result of your hair tugging—you manage to somewhat flip you both, your legs now in a straddle over him—you having had the advantage of your wrapped legs. Miguel narrows his eyes at the action, looking up at you, as his hands fly to your hips, going to speak on how he’d rather be on top, when you completely sit down on him, making his words choke and die in his throat.

You placed your hands on his chest for support, and Miguel quickly grabs your wrists—still attached to his chest. Fuck, now you could feel him. And shit did he feel big, hard against your pussy, already dripping again. At the feel of your pretty cunt against Miguel’s cock his lips twitch up in a pleasured snarl. His grip tightened around your wrists. “I like being in control…y/n.”

“I can tell.” You say, moving your hips experimentally along him. He hisses at this, pulling at your arms and making you lose your support so that you fall against his chest. “Miguel.” You partially groan in annoyance making him smirk in amusement. His hands then wrap tightly around your waist, keeping you there. “Miguel…” You say again. “I want—“

“But this is my side of the deal, y/n.” He moved to leave kisses along your jaw. “So, isn’t it about what I want?” He teased. “What I want…” He moved to your ear, beginning to shift his body to move you both, successfully flipping you. When your head hits the pillow your hands suddenly get stuck.

You look up and behind you to see your wrists are attached together by an orange web, which is then attached to the head of the bed. You quickly look back to a smug Miguel. He hand used his web bands swiftly before taking them off, and settling on top of you again. “Miguel—“

“Shh…” he dragged his bottom lip up your neck, his fangs grazing your rapidly beating pulse. “This is a l-little unfair.” You say between breathes.

“Is it?” Miguel asks. “You used your advantages before…now I’m using mine.” He smiles against your skin. “And I have plenty of advantages.” In response to his words his fangs now purposefully drag across your soft, sensitive skin. You shiver, your breath hitching. Miguel could feel the quicken of your pulse under his tongue, making him smile.

Because the way you were shifting your hips showed him that it wasn’t out of fear…but something else entirely. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure my advantages make you want to scream.” He chuckles, now moving to hover over your lips. You meet his gaze.

He keeps eye contact as his hand—claw—dragged down the side of your bare body, drawing loose patterns on your skin, until he reached your pussy, moving his sharp claw over your clit, making your stomach contract and your hips jolt, your mouth opening—his lips still hovering. “So reactive.” He cooed, dragging his claw back over it.

His breathing soon became laboured, the teasing getting too much even for him, as he takes his hand away to grip your waist, your body stretched from being restrained—arms up. He then grabbed his cock, moving the head through your wetness, making sure you’re wet enough, while simultaneously getting your arousal on his aching cock. “Mm, I wanna fuck you so bad.” He groaned, his cock stopping over your hole as you clenched around nothing.

He leant down to litter your face and lips with kisses. “You’re gonna have to loosen up though, cariño.” His cock pushed slightly inside you. Your pussy not meaning to clench around him but it does anyway. “Dios…y/n, please.” He hisses out, wanting nothing more than to just thrust fully in.

But he wouldn’t. Not until you had loosened up and and not until you had told him he could. “Just loosen up for me…”

And you take a breath, relaxing your body, leaving room for Miguel to push further in. “Oh—“ you press your lips together at the feeling of being stretched. “No no no, cariño, I want to hear you.” Miguel says, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers. “Come on…let me hear that pretty voice of yours.” With his grip on your cheeks you were forced to open your mouth.

Miguel leaned down to explore it with his tongue, making the sounds tumble easily from your lips. “That’s it…” he smirks, pushing further in. You clenched your restrained fists tight, as your chest heaved.

God Miguel was holding back. Everything about you made him want to move his hips. He wanted to feel you, be your first. But that meant taking it slow, and for you he would. “You’re doing so so good, cariño…so good for me…mhm.” He praises, as he moved his hand back down to rub your clit. Hiding some of the pain with pleasure, making your legs almost shake.

“Carajo…” He whispered, shutting his eyes a moment as he pushes all the way in, filling you to the brim with his cock. You were right—he was big. So big that you’ve indented your palms with your nails. “Ay…dios no.” Miguel hisses out, his grip tightening around your waist. You felt too good, that it almost had him muttering in a plead to move his hips.

The painful stretch had slowly become pleasure, his finger still rubbing your clit in circles. “Fuck, Miguel…move…please move…god.”

And Miguel has never been more happy to hear a simple sentence as he pushes out to thrust back into you, his hair was growing damp already, as he began to thrust in and out, your tight little hole making Miguel mutter and groan out anything on his mind. “Ay, dios…so good… feel so good cariño…doing so well...I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long…you have no idea.”

Your eyes are holding back from rolling wanting to see Miguel’s sweating body. You slightly struggle against the web, wanting to touch him. “Please Miguel…I just…”

He grins. “Look at you…so adorable.” He coos, leaning closer and kissing you hard. “Mi—“ you try through his kisses but he’s persistent. “Shh, I just wanna feel that tongue…come on...” He partially snarls out as your tongue finds his, his head pushing harder against yours, as his thrusts quicken, making you moan into his mouth.

“Uh huh…eso es, cariño… mm…you wanna know something?” He asks, his head slightly dropping to your neck, breathing heavy, as he had begun to move his hips at a pace that’s making you pant. He smiled against your skin, his hand moving up to play and fiddle with your tits.

“W-what?…” You manage through whimpers and pathetic groans. “The first night after our little deal was made…I couldn’t help but touch myself.” He nipped at your skin, right by your pulse. “Ma’ girl was so…breathless from a bit of excersise…mouth open…”

He chuckled into your neck, continue to fuck your aching cunt, which is practically dripping all over him. “It was hard not coming into your new room…You were so close by.” His fangs had begun to graze against your skin a fraction harder. “So for compensation I imagined touching your pretty little lips…” as demonstration he moved his hand to spread two of his fingers over your bottom lip.

“…seeing what your annoying tongue was all about.” He pushed his two fingers into your mouth, finding your tongue with his claws. “Mm…” Miguel hummed, mouth opening against your hot skin, his fucking making your mind see stars.

“You wanna know something else, y/n?” He placed a long open-mouth kiss to your pulse. “Hm?” He smirks, wanting you to speak. “Come on, talk more…i wanna hear your voice, didn’t I say that?” He had begun to match his cock’s thrusts into your pussy, with his fingers’ thrusts into your mouth, your drool coating his skin. He was teasing you, and in response you bit down on his fingers.

And of course you didn’t get the reaction you wanted, Miguel’s eyes instead lighting up with a new found heat. “That…exactly that…dios…did I want to do that to you.” He continues to fuck your mouth with his fingers, his hips thrusts hitting your g-spot over and over and over.

You’re surprised you haven’t orgasmed a second time yet, while you could clearly tell that Miguel had high stamina. He then leant back to your neck, softly biting. “…I imagined biting you…and now that I know what your blood tastes like…ay cariño, it’s hard to hold back.”

You had begun to nod before you even realised your heads movements. Miguel lifts his head to look at you, chest heaving, as his cock twitched inside you at your little response. “What was that?” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, your saliva running slightly onto your bottom lip.

“I—“ you gulp, eyes fluttering, as you felt your pussy clench around him.

“Aw…are you gonna cum again?” Miguel coos. “Your body is so easy to pleasure.” And Miguel is beyond pleased at how obedient it is. His hands slightly run up and down your waist. “But before you do…” he slows his thrusts, knowing for himself that he could go on and on and on.

You slightly whine at the prolonging of your orgasm. “What were you nodding along to?” Miguel is watching you closely, as his thrusts have turned utterly torturous. In…and out….in and…out. And it’s making you squirm.

“You gotta tell me or I’ll keep at this pace…” he leans closer to your face. “And you know I have all night to do so.”

Your breathing is heavy. “I nodded because…” you were slightly nervous to say.

“Yes…?” Miguel pushed, his gaze darting everywhere it can.

“I…wantyoutobiteme.” You rush quietly out.

“I haven’t nearly fucked you close to speaking nonsense yet.” Was Miguel’s way of saying ‘repeat slower’.”

You gulp. “I want…you to bite me.” You meet his gaze, and your breathing stops at the focused look he’s shooting at you. His breathing shallows, as his eyes dart down to your neck. You slightly lean your head a fraction back—a silent invitation that is making Miguel go practically feral. His nose twitches in bloodlust—the kind that is making his thrusts inside you quicken.

Then before you’re knowing it his warm breath is by your neck, as his hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head how he wants, as his fangs drag a little harsher against your skin. Your heart is on fire, as you then hear Miguel mutter something incoherent, but the latino accent is thick as sinks his teeth into the side of your neck.

You gasp, your hips shuddering against his quickening thrusts. Now you were close to your second high. Miguel’s fangs stung at first, before a strange sort of pleasure takes over as he sucks on your neck, his grip around your throat tightening a fraction, as his thrusts turn unrelenting, the slight dizzying feeling of loosing a small amount blood only adding to the experience.

“Holy fuck, cariño…y-you’re doing so good for me. Being…so good for me…aren’t you?” Miguel breathed out, once he finally let go of your neck, not wanting to drink too much. His tongue came out to soothe the fang marks, licking up some more blood.

When you caught sight of him, you felt your heart stop. Your pussy clenched around him, as you saw his messy, damp hair, and the blood tainting his lips. Your blood. And you don’t know why that does something to you but it does, making your stomach clench, your second orgasm quickly following. “You gonna cum, cariño? You gonna cum for me? All over me?” He mutters, fucking you rhythmically until the pleasure hits, making your head knock back.

Miguel needed a little more to get him there. Just a little. So he continued to fuck you through and after your orgasm, making your legs shake. “Migu—“

“Shhh…y/n…I’m almost there…por favor…I’m so close.” His head rested in the crook of your neck as he thrusted into your poor abused hole, the overstimulation making your breathing choke and incoherent words fall from your lips.

“Mm, doing so good…so fucking good for me…” Miguel groaned out, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Gracias, cariño….shh…thank you.” He whisper-moans into your neck, as he finally orgasms, his breath shuddering, as his thrusts begin to slow.

When he finally pulls out of you, you can barely move. Just how Miguel wanted. He wanted to take care of you, and if you had enough energy you’d say ‘no, I’m fine’. So Miguel slightly grins, kissing your jaw, then cheek, then lips. Pausing on them as he pecks them again.

Your eyes are glittering with exhaustion, and Miguel’s hand has gone back to stroking your skin. “Gracias, cariño.”

You’re still breathing heavy, as he rests his chin by your chest, tilting his head as he looks at your fucked out expression. Oh how he wanted to see that again, over and over again.

“I feel like…I should be the one sayin’ thanks...” You breathe out. You can’t even put into words what that was like. Not that you could really form them that well anyway.

Miguel couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he watched you shut your eyes, slowing your breathing. He hums as his claws gently continue to draw patterns on your warm skin. With eyes still shut you say “At least now I have experience…you know…I can now know what I’m doing with guys.” You hold back your teasing smile.

Miguel’s smile immediately drops as he stares at your still shut eyes. He snarls, pulling your body to lie atop his, making you yelp. He wraps his arms around your body. “No no, ‘guys’ as in plural?” He shakes his head. “Oh no y/n, im not sure if you get it…you’re all mine now.”

You stare at his focused red eyes, his claws tightening around you. Your amused smile widens, as you quickly peck his lips. “No.” Miguel warns, not wanting to be effected. “I want you to say that you won’t—“

You cut him off by another, longer kiss. And Miguel can’t help but let his eyes close, his head moving with yours. “Y/n…”

“Shut up.” You whisper against his lips. And Miguel can’t help the satisfied smile that curves his mouth.

;;

The light was peaking through the curtains when you woke. You almost got a fright seeing a sleeping Miguel beside you. His arm was draped over your stomach, his chest slowly rising. In all honesty you’re still in slight shock at everything that had occurred yesterday. Literally everything changed.

Your gaze catches sight of the bedside clock, seeing the time. You scan the floor for your clothes, spotting your completely destroyed panties. This’ll be an uncomfortable walk to your room then.

But as you were about to get up to get dressed the arm that was draped over you tightened, pulling you back into a warm chest. And you think you might actually die when you hear the low morning voice of Miguel right in your ear. “Don’t tell me you we’re gonna leave.”

You pressed your lips together. “I’m late.” You whisper.

“To what?” He groans, keeping you pressed to him.

“Miguel…” You try to slightly move, but in response Miguel swiftly moves over your body under the sheets, trapping you under him as he tilted his head. “Hm? To what?” He repeated.

“Work.” You say.

He raises his brows. “You can’t be serious. Work? You were gonna leave me for work?”

“Said no boss ever.” You respond. Miguel scoffs, his hand subconsciously moving to brush along your jaw. “Exactly. I’m your boss. And you listen to your boss regarding work, right?”

You narrow your eyes. “Mhm.”

He leans closer. “Well your boss says you don’t have work today.” He moves to kiss your lips, but you press your hands against his chest stopping him.

“No no. I will not get any benefits.” You’re serious.

Miguel tries to lean in again but you’re persistent. “Mi Dior.” He mutters. “Let me kiss you.”

“But you hear me right?” You say. “No benefits at—“

Miguel swiftly leans down, kissing you. “Migu—“

“Yeah yeah, i heard you.” He says to your lips, pushing harder against your mouth.

But then you again push at his chest making him groan. “Oh come on, chaparrita, what now?”

You pause. “Two things…” And Miguel shoots you an unimpressed look. “One…” but then you pause. “Wait no, actually three.”

“Y/n—“

But you cut him off continuing. “One—I’m late. And I will not miss work because I’m too…distracted.”

“Ouch.” Miguel mockingly nods.

“Two—i have morning breath…and it’s gross—“

Now Miguel cuts you off, grabbing your cheeks, squeezing them lightly to shut you up. “Say that again, and I’ll be happy to keep you from work.”

You slightly huff, but raise your brows, silently saying ‘yeah alright’. He lets go, as you continue to speak. “And three…what does chaparrita mean?”

Miguel slightly smirks. He then reaches up and grabs your phone (that had been in the back pocket of your pants) and hands it to you. “You could just tell me.”

He raises his brows. “I don’t want you to hit me.”

That comment makes you speedily tap at your phone, putting it through translation. Throughout your typing, Miguel begins to place kisses along you neck and collarbone, stroking random parts of your body.

Then your mouth opens as you read what appeared on your screen. “Shorty?!” You exclaim, making him chuckle against your skin. “Short—I am not short. You’re just…” Miguel looks up, still amused as he meets your gaze. “…abnormally tall.” You finally say.

He tilts his head. “Now get off me or I will hit you.” You’re annoyed. You had thought that it was something a little more endearing than that. You struggle under him. “Move.”

Miguel can’t get rid of his smile as he just rests completely on top of you. “You’re heavy, get off.” You groan out. “Miguel!”

;;

You’re all standing around the mess that is HQ.

“Well…I’m sure we can repair some of thi—“ But a loud, concerning sizzle of a bursting screen makes pav stop and everyone slightly jump. “Um…” he drifts off staring at the damage.

“Yeah…nah, that’s fucked, mate.” Hobie pats Pav’s back, staring at the damage too.

“That’s not really our concern though.” Gwen starts. Some other spider-people had begun to gather (the ones not terribly injured). “They left. They got out, and we don’t know if they’ll come back.”

Miguel is standing, jaw clenched in thought. You look slightly down to see that he put your bracelet back on, cleaned it from the blood. You hold back your want to smile. Now’s really not the time, y/n—you think to yourself.

No one knows yet about you two and at this moment you wanted to keep it that way. So part of you didn’t want him wearing that bracelet. Someone could easily notice it.

As the others discuss some form of a plan, you quietly edge closer to Miguel. He shifts his gaze to you, as you keep your gaze looking around before quietly saying “You don’t have to wear that.”

At first Miguel doesn’t know what you mean, until your gaze shoots to his wrist, his soon following. He looks back up to you. “Why not?” He whispered back.

“…and lil’ lovebird back there, you got any ideas?” Hobie suddenly asks, walking closer to you both.

“Excuse me?” You say, eyes slightly widening.

“Not you…” Hobie begins. “Him.” He gestures to Miguel, who just stares back, unimpressed.

You slightly sigh in relief, only to then furrow your brows. Wait, why was Hobie calling him that?

“We go to them.” Miguel says.

“Are you insane?” One of the spider-people ask. “A lot of us almost died here. We can’t just walk right into a their base like a suicide mission.”

“And would you rather stay and wait for them?” Miguel asks raising his brows. “They’ll be back. Stronger this time. So let’s get to them while their in the process of upgrading.”

“Vulnerable.” You mutter—more so to yourself, but Miguel and few others catch it.

“Exactly.” Miguel says.

“Wait but where even are they?” Miles asks.

And Miguel gulps. He had to tell them. He’s sure a few already know. “I’ve been there.”

Everyone shifts there gazes to him. “You’ve been there?” Jess steps forward. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“I went alone.” He says. “I had to check something.”

“Check something?” Peter asks, thankfully without Mayday today.

You take in the way Miguel’s body is tense, words seeming to get caught in his throat. Words never get caught in his throat. So you speak up. “Everyone who is willing to go, raise your hand!”

You look around to see barely anyone keen. Though you do see the hands of your friends. Always willing to defend something. “Then how about those you will actually be a part of the plan can discuss details?” You look around, you catch your friends nodding along while a few ‘i guess’s’ come from random spider variants. “Great…so how bout that office,” you point to a far door. “It doesn’t seem…blown to bits.” You nod.

Hobie’s the first to follow you, then Miles, Gwen and so on, until it’s your friends and Miguel in the office. You meet Miguel’s gaze and see something similar to…gratitude? You had to get used to these displays of emotion.

You shift your gaze, coughing. “Sorry, carry on.” You gesture somewhat to Miguel.

“…thanks.” He says, still staring at you.

Hobie spares Pav a look, silently saying ‘told ya’. Because Miguel never ‘thanks’ anyone. It’s usually just a nod or something along those lines. Pav nods, his eyes shooting back to you and Miguel.

“Miguel, why did you go to their base alone?” Jess asks, crossing her arms.

“Because they took something of mine.” Miguel answers.

‘Took something’. You remember the night Miguel was unbelievably stressed. He had said ‘I let them take it’.

“Take what?” Gwen asks.

“The enhancing form of rapture.” Miguel answers.

“An…enhancing serum…” Pav says in slight confusion, drifting off.

“I thought I could get it back.” Miguel continues. “But it seems they already used some.”

Then it clicks. The ‘masked man’ Miguel was staring at must have taken the serum. That’s why his hits seemed so much more painful to watch. His strength was enhanced.

“Wait, Miguel why were you taking that?” Peter asks, brows furrowed.

“Because you know that fun little thing called a ‘spider-sense’?” Miguel rhetorically asks. “Yeah, I don’t have that.”

You shift your gaze to Miguel. You hadn’t known that. You had always thought that he had the same abilities as the others, just…with extra claws and fangs. Miguel meets your gaze. And strangely he felt slightly nervous. He didn’t want you to think any less of him because he technically only had 50% of spider DNA in him.

“So, you wanted to enhance your strengths, to help with your lack of abilities?” Jess asks.

“That’s a nice way to put it, Jess.” Miguel spoke with a straight face, shifting his gaze to her.

“Okay, so wha’?” Hobie asks. “They stole ya serum, boosted themselves up?”

“There’s more.” Miguel says.

“Oh.” Hobie nods, pretending to look pleased.

“When I went to their…base, better word would be lab…I saw a lot more than just the serum.” Miguel is saying, everyone’s heads turned to him. “They were making something. With the rapture. As an additive.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Miles comments.

“You don’t think so?” Miguel snarks back, making poor Miles close his mouth.

Your brows furrow. Why Miguel had started to have beef with this kid you’d love to know.

“So the plan is to go find what they’re creating and…destroy it?” Gwen asks, partially to Miguel, partially to everyone.

“Sounds good t’ me.” Hobie smirks. “Are we workin’ in pairs? Cause I’ll take miss democrat over ‘ere.” Hobie links his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to him. You notice his small jab at you being democratic back when you asked everyone to raise their hands.

You slightly shove his side, as Miguel speaks. “Destroying whatever it is will hopefully weaken them, enough so we can kill…if they haven’t taken it already.” Miguel shifts his gaze to Hobie. “And yes, pairs would work best.” He then shifts his gaze to you. “Weak human, you’re with me.” He turns opening up a portal.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes on his back. But you step forward, hearing a faint mumble from Hobie. “Lovesick partner taker.”

;;

You’ve all split up, having arrived at the creepy looking lab. Gwen and Miles. Hobie and Pav. Peter and Jess, and of course…you and Miguel.

“Thanks, by the way,” you whisper to him as you both slowly step along a desolate hallway. “For letting me help.”

Miguel meets your gaze. He had yet to put on his mask. “Ah, well…I was scared you were gonna hit me otherwise.”

“Mm, glad I remain a threat.” You whisper back.

Then you hear steps, Miguel’s hand immediately coming out in front of you, as you both press yourselves against the wall. You could laugh, because right now you could picture spy music playing in the background. And Miguel being his large self would probably be the worst one.

“You’d be a terrible spy.” You whisper to him once the steps faded.

Miguel looks at you. “What?”

“A spy.” You repeat. “You’d be terrible.”

“And why is that?” Miguel’s gaze wanders the different rooms, trying to find the one he had been in before.

“You’re too…big.” You conclude, not finding a better word in the moment.

It’s then silent, both your steps filling somewhat of that silence. And when you look to Miguel, he’s clearly trying to hold down an amused grin.

Then your cheeks flush, and you look anywhere else. “Don’t you dare.” You quietly hiss.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Miguel says, acting innocent.

“You better not.” You gaze around at the different rooms as well, Miguel having given you somewhat of a description.

“But if I were to—“

You swiftly cut him off, placing your hand over his mouth. You can feel him grin underneath it, as he watches you. “Shh.” You say. “You might alert the masked men that we’re here.” Then you turn and walk a little quicker down the hallway.

Miguel watches you go. “Yeah, cause I was the one talking.” He mutters.

“I heard that.” You hiss-whisper back, still scouting rooms. Majority empty and abandoned.

Miguel scoffs, continuing his search as well.

;;

Somewhere on the opposite side of the building, Hobie and Pav are quietly talking as well. “So do you think they’ve…” Pav raises his brows at Hobie.

“How ‘bout ya ask ‘em when we see ‘em next.” Hobie raises his brows too, doing that little side smile, as he tilts his head, his hands moving to his pockets.

“Oh, I’m not asking that.” Pav quickly says.

“Oh come on, bro,” Hobie hits Pav’s shoulder.

“No.” Pav shakes his head, eyeing rooms.

“How ‘bout,” Hobie begins. “…last one to reach the room has to ask?”

Pav gives Hobie one glance, before they’re both webbing away quickly—in search of the room.

;;

“There.” Miguel gestures to a doorway with light flooding out, as he slips his mask on. You both creep forward, moving to peep in. You can hear voices, harsh and angry.

“Did you manage to kill any?!”

“A-a few.” A more timid voice says.

“A-a few?” The previous guy mockingly repeats.“That’s not fucking good enough!” There’s a smash, as the sound of a fist hitting a nose follows.

Miguel’s head is focused forward, his claws extending. “I want them dead! All of them! They don’t have a right to be controlling the multiverse like this!”

“I-I know.” The guy chokes.

You can’t see anything yet, moving any closer would make you both visible. But luckily sound seemed to be enough for now.

“Do you? Do you really? Because Miguel O’hara is still alive. I thought you took his rapture?” The guy grits out.

“I did. But maybe…he has more…back up rapture.”

“‘Back up rapture’? Do you hear how stupid you sound?” Another punch. “They don’t deserve to be controlling anything, those bastard spiders think that just because their DNA is different they have the right?! No no.” What sounds to be a slap follows.

Miguel is edging closer, fraction by fraction. “I’ll show them what different DNA looks like…” the guy then speaks slowly, lowering his voice. “Yeah…” he chuckles.

Different DNA… The rapture being an additive now makes sense. It changes your DNA. And whatever other stuff they added must be mix of enhancers and straight up drugs. All for the cause to become powerful. He wanted control. Utter control. And he was going to kill anyone to get there. To put it simply he wanted to take Miguel’s place.

“Stay here.” Miguel whispers. And in this moment you knew your help wasn’t needed. You weren’t stupid, knowing that you’d just get in the middle of things. And right now you were okay with that. When the time came where you could help, you would. And that was something that made you almost feel…settled—a little more sure of yourself.

You nod, ushering for him to go. He then shoots his web out, pulling the timid guy away from getting punched again, as he shot another web at the meaner guys face. But the guy is quick to rip the web away, his strength clearly enhanced. Shit…he took it.

The rest soon became a mix of smashing glass, bruises, blood, and evil cackles that you’re sure the guy copied from the Green Goblin.

He may despise spider-people, thinking he’s above them, but he seems to be acting just like every villain who thought the same. Their fate didn’t end so well.

The guy being enhanced is most definitely making it hard for Miguel. You glance around the somewhat empty hallway, hearing and spotting something outside the far window. You quickly step closer, worried it may be a masked man.

And you’re…somewhat right. Because there are masked men, but there is also your friends. Fighting. And maybe now you are wondering if you should have come at all. But then you slip your hand into your pocket, bringing out the small switch device that you had kept.

You had tampered with it, trying to get it to work against its owners. And you aren’t even sure if it does work. But what really is there to loose?

You re-poked certain wires, the job not amazingly done, but hopefully good enough. You can hear shouts and heavy feet, punches and falling bodies.

And then you push the switch, hearing the whirring. The falling bodies, punches, heavy feet, and shouting are still audible at first. And you think maybe it didn’t work.

But when you look back out the window you see that it’s the masked men who are the bodies that are falling, the punches being directed by your friends. It had worked. The little machine messed with masked men’s’ DNA.

After a while of making sure that it’s working, you quickly rush back to the doorway to where Miguel and the other guy’s fight began, and you’re relieved to see that Miguel is holding him up by his neck.

The guy is babbling trying to get free. He looks confused, as if wondering where all his strength had gone. You couldn’t help but let a small smile edge your lips.

Miguel tightens his hold until the guys face turns purple, finally his struggles ceasing. Miguel let’s him drop to the ground, breathing hard. And as he takes his mask off—to breathe easier—he meets your gaze and notices the switch in your grasp.

Then someone is running quickly into the room, past you. Pav. He’s breathing hard, as he then jumps and cheers. “Ha!” He exclaims to someone behind you.

You turn seeing Hobie coming to a halt, huffing. “Nah, mate, ya cheated.”

Pav grins, his cheek a little cut up, but seemingly still ecstatic. You shift your gaze to Gwen, Miles, Peter and Jess who all arrive by the doorway as well.

Peter then nods, looking around. “Did we do it?”

“Hell yeah we did!” Miles hoots, slapping a high five to Peter’s hand. Peter moves his hand to offer Jess a high-five. She raises her brows and Peter is quick to put his hand away.

You breath in relief. Everyone is fine, nobody died…and you have no idea how your little invention worked.

;;

You’re all walking outside the lab, wanting to know exactly where it is. It’s a rundown Alchemax scientific building, obviously on much quieter universe.

“Isn’t that y/n’s bracelet?” Gwen suddenly asks, looking down at Miguel’s wrist. You freeze.

Miguel glances down at it too, but before he can say anything you quickly speak. “No.” Heads turn to you.

“I-uh…mine looks different.” You nod.

Now Miguel turns to you, brows raised. “Does it?”

You narrow your eyes on him. “Yes. Very different.”

“It looks pretty similar to me...” Pav says, making you press your lips together.

“And when were you looking at my wrist for that long to know that?” You ask Pav.

“I mean your hands are always up and tapping at keyboards.” Gwen says. Damn it.

Now there was nothing inherently wrong with what has happened between you and Miguel. No. You just felt…strange telling everyone, the situation basically being at work.

“It is her bracelet.” Miguel suddenly says, twisting it in circles around his wrist. All heads shoot to him, yours too.

“It is?” You ask, eyes really narrowing in on him.

“Mhm.” Miguel looks back at you, looking almost smug. His web “subtly” shoots out, attaching to your side, and pulling you towards him.

And you sigh, because everyone seems to catch on rather quickly after that.

All their expressions are different. And you’d laugh if you weren’t so flushed and nervous.

Gwen is staring, just blinking. Miles’ eyes are flicking between the two of you, wondering how you (the sweet, nice, funny girl) got with him (Miguel…enough’s said there).

Jess seems rather unbothered by the whole ordeal while Peter’s mouth is nearly dropped to the floor. And Pav is holding back an amused smile, almost nodding with approval.

“So, ‘av you two banged yet?” Someone suddenly asks, making your eyes widen. And you know exactly who the culprit is…

“Hobie!”

pls nobody ask me how the bloody switch works OKAY?! It just does!

but oh my god. it’s here. the finale of ‘el trato (the deal)’. thank you all so so so much for all the support and love you’ve given this series — actually crying

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6 taglist #7

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

Text

Hiding the rest of this HUGE comic behind a readmore for ur sanity

Hes got the keenest eye for these things!

Now that this is hiding behind a readmore i can justify writing an essay in here. Nothing big tho i am just very chatty :)!

Postgame where Peppino still gets visits every now and again from the bosses of the tower. I already drew one for the noise (lmao) but i wanted to draw each of the main four interacting with him in some way.

Pepperman is a refined and well renowned artist. His art is highly sought after and his advice is not taken lightly. He has many MANY fortunes to pull from to make his visions a reality and to influence anyone to do anything. Except for Peppino.

From the very first fight, Pepperman is immediately, overwhelmingly obsessed with this stout little brawler. He is much much more than what meets the eyes. He is initially extremely offput and annoyed that a human so boldly decided to waltz into his domain, and he expects to be able to steamroll and bully this…beast…out of his place of work. He is refined when he wants to be, but he is quick to use his brute strength to get what he wants if only bc he knows he can do it

And so when he decides to fully charge and thrash this little trembling human, expecting him to skitter away the second he gets struck, he is completely unprepared for when he gets launched to the other end of this room. The human looks so incredibly PISSED, like a bull seeing red, and suddenly this little altercation suddenly became a real actual ‘knock your teeth out’ brawl. This human is only like half his height, but his punches and bashes fucking knock the wind out of him.

And like ! To add insult to injury!!! After he wins the fight! He visibly deflates, the adrenaline seemingly wearing off. Hes just this trembling fuckin whelp again !!! Whimpering as he fucking runs back out through the portal to do god knows what. And Pepperman could not be any more fucking intrigued. Like this no name came in, whooped his fuckin ass, and went about his day. Its unreal

While Peppino is running around climbing the tower, Pepperman is in his room losing his mind. Hes obsessed. No one has challenged him in this way. No one has fought him and WON. He is ALWAYS able to bully people into submission either through brute force or with money, and he got his ass handed to him !! He needs to know more. Its quite literally consuming him.

Cut to the final fight, set up for a rematch; and he knows he is going to get steamrolled again but it is SO exhilarating to get another chance to see this humans form up close again. This time he can try to commit everything to memory. Its all such a blur though, and in a quarter of the time it took to end their first fight, its over. He gets to watch the human fight the gunslinger with his bare hands, no gun necessary, and he doesnt even bat an eye at what looks to be a clone of himself. He is a force of nature tearing through every single defense, and when Pepperman watches the actual final fight with the bizarre little pizza man, its like hes caught in a movie. The rain, the storm, the atmosphere. He wishes he could burn the entire scene into his mind.

So when everything returns to normal, he takes the time to travel for days to come and find this little human named Peppino. The memory is still strong and vivid but eventually, details will start to slip his mind. He needs to find this human, convince him to sit and do some still life sessions with him to help cement the humans appearance in his head. He hasnt had to resort to…asking for permission for anything in a loooong time…he bullies people into doing what he wants but Peppino is not your average person, and if he wants something from this man, he’ll have to meet him at his level.

He...can make an exception for Peppino...he supposes.

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #peppino #pepperman #i love love love how this little comic turned out #esp with how peppino came out in so many panels #esp the one w pepperman holding peppino close: that one is the best i think #anyway #yeah #heehee #this is not intended to be shippy but do as u please #pepperman is just an artist that appreciates beautiful BEAUTIFUL forms #and people who defy him #and he has No filter #peppino is like oh my god #hes eccentric…the worst kind of person….#but like #no one has tried to fight him since the tower collapsed #and everyone seems peaceful enough now #so if this weirdo thinks hes ‘beautiful’ and ‘exquisite’ and ONLY wants to spend some time to draw him #well thats better than fighting again; hell take it #also #heehee yes; peppino is using a walkman #hes been holding onto that shit for decades its his ol reliable

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vixstarria · 4 months

Text

A night at the inn (part 3)

Vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Part 1 (fluff to smut) ~ Part 2 (just smut) (Is it required reading? Ehh... But you might as well, no?)

This one gets a bit deranged.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader x Halsin

18+, smut, threesome, porn no plot, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV, blood drinking, soft dom Astarion, Astarion being a little shit, Halsin being rudely awakened in order to fuck nasty style again

Approx. 3,000 words this time (I uh... I don't know)

The first thought in your mind when you regained consciousness was “did that really happen?”, along with a flashback to the two elves in and around you. Halsin’s gentle, towering bulk. And Astarion finally allowing you to pleasure him, if only a little bit.

You picked up the sound of Halsin snoring on the other bed. His favoured wildshape was all too fitting - he certainly sounded like a bear now. Weren’t elves supposed to trance? Silently?

...So it happened. It really happened. ...It was going to be an interesting day.

You opened your eyes.

Astarion was already awake, lying beside you and admiring you through his lashes, a light smile on his face. It deepened when you met his gaze.

Your immediate impulse was to ask him about last night, but you held your tongue, instead looking for answers in his eyes.

No darkness, nothing that resembled shame or regret... Only warmth and affection as he softly ran the back of his fingers down your cheek until they reached your chin, to gently tilt it towards him, drawing you for a kiss.

It was soft at first. Just your lips brushing and lingering on each other’s, until with a soft sigh he drew you in deeper.

He traced the inner edge of your upper lip with his tongue. It tickled, and you parted your lips, letting him in. You tried to brush your tongue against his, but he retracted it as soon as you moved. Only once you held still did he return with his tongue, running it in circles around the tip of yours, running it up your tongue’s underside, teasing. It was so distinct, it was almost...

You gasped with a sharp intake of breath when you realised what he was doing.

These were the motions of your tongue on the head of his cock last night. This whole kiss was a vulgar, teasing reminder of what you’d done for him. His way of showing you that he hadn’t forgotten about it, that it’s been on his mind.

Gods... It felt so obscene.

You moaned as he brought your naked body closer to his partially clothed form, holding you close, a fire starting to reignite between your legs already.

His lips split into a grin in the knowledge that you’d caught on, and he broke the kiss, giving you an unabashed look full of lust.

“Will you let me do it again?” you whisper, hoarsely.

“In time...” he replied. “For now there’s more I want to do to you.”

“To me?”

He grinned, mischievously, then glanced at Halsin’s sleeping mass.

“For both of us to do to you, actually. If you want to try something new?”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“For one, Halsin's still asleep,” you said. Astarion rolled his eyes at you.

“Psst, Halsin. ...Halsin. ...Halsin! ...HALSIN!” Astarion hurled a pillow at the groggy druid, who somehow managed to catch it in midair before it smashed into his face.

“Hmm?” a low rumble reverberated in his chest as he stirred awake.

“Do you want to try something?”

“...What?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“...Yes.”

Halsin, still half-asleep, opened his eyes to observe the two of you as Astarion turned back to you, rolling on top and continuing in a louder voice.

“See? Problem solved. Anyway. I was thinking... You say your body stays sensitive around the puncture wounds for a long time after I bite you,” he said, running his fingers delicately along the wounds on your neck.

“It’s still tender,” you nodded, relishing his touch.

“Tender how?” he asked softly, lowering his lips to the marks on your neck.

“It feels... sweet. Like I don’t want you to ever stop touching it,” you said, closing your eyes and revelling in the sensation. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“A vampire’s bite has aphrodisiac properties,” offered Halsin. “It is well-known.”

“What if I were to bite you somewhere more... interesting.” Astarion began to kiss further down, grazing you with his fangs without drawing blood. Halsin, more awake now, propped himself up on his elbow to lie on his side.

“Where?” you breathed as Astarion continued on his way down, pausing to suck on a nipple. He only smiled and kept trailing soft kisses down your stomach, gradually pulling the covers off you as he went lower, until he reached your upper inner thighs.

“What if...” he purred, starting to run his tongue along your outer folds, making you moan and spread your legs wider for him. “I left a gentle little bite right here...” He continued to run his tongue on your skin, just between your opening and your thigh. “Do you think you would like that..?” Before you could answer, he added: “Oh, and it’s incredibly distracting when you’re so wet while I’m trying to talk to you,” before plunging his tongue inside you as you gasped.

“Did you wake me merely so I could watch?” Halsin asked, reaching down to stroke his growing erection.

Astarion gestured for him to wait.

“Do it,” you moaned. “Bite me there.”

Astarion continued to lap at your hole, running his hands along your thighs, holding them open.

“Stop teasing, damn you!” you hissed.

Astarion chuckled and moved his head to lick you just outside your opening, sucking your lip into his mouth. Suddenly his grip on your thighs tightened and before you knew it, you felt a sharp icy pang. You whined as he continued to suck, this time drawing blood. The pain quickly dissipated and turned into a titillating sensation that spread throughout your sex.

Astarion lifted his head, sitting up and inserting two fingers into you.

“Now how does that feel, darling?”

“Good... So good...” you groaned, spreading your legs wider for him, bucking your hips to ride his fingers. It felt like an insatiable, throbbing itch, his fingers your only salvation.

“I must tell you,” you heard Halsin. “I overheard some of your remarks about wood elves earlier. And you would do well to trust me that few of my brethren are as depraved as you.”

Astarion ignored the druid, absorbed in watching you writhe.

“Do you like it? Do you want more? You do, don’t you... We can give you more...” You whimpered as Astarion continued to slowly fuck you with his fingers. “But first... What if I bite you somewhere else?”

His tongue returned between your legs, licking higher and higher, until it circled your bundle of nerves.

“Just a tiny little nick, right above your sweet nub. I’ll be very careful, I promise,” he murmured right against your clit, in between licks, as you mewled. “I’ll be gentle... And then I’ll kiss it better. I’ll kiss it, lick it, suck it better...”

“I stand corrected... None of my people can rival you in perversion,” said Halsin.

Meanwhile, your fingers were tangled in Astarion’s hair as he continued to tease you with his fingers and tongue. As good as it felt, the only word in your mind was ‘more’.

“Do it,” you say, hoarsely. “I want to know how it feels.”

Astarion chuckled, turning to Halsin.

“You druids have an intrinsic urge to tend to helpless creatures in need, do you not?” Astarion said, as Halsin continued to stroke himself. “This helpless creature is about to be in great need.” He looked up at you, hungrily. “Try to hold still, my love.”

This time the pang made you yelp and lurch up in shock, your hands grabbing at the bedsheets. But the pain subsided as quickly as it came on, replaced by an unquenchable burning need.

It throbbed. It pulsed. It begged to be touched.

Astarion did as he promised licking and sucking on your clit, his cool tongue like a salve, but before you could find any kind of release, he abruptly rose, pinning your arms above your head as you groaned in protest.

“My, look at this predicament you’ve gotten yourself into again, pet...”

“Please... please... anything... I’ll do anything you say.” you begged. Your need could not be ignored like this. You tried to squeeze your legs together for some friction, but he was keeping your legs spread open with his own thighs. Maybe if you told him what you wanted he would cut this agony short..? “Touch me... Fuck me... Anything..!”

“What did I tell you?” he said, turning to Halsin. “But my sweet,” he said turning back to you. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like. Maybe we should leave you like this so you can study and savour the sensation.”

“Astarion?” you managed, swallowing hard.

“Yes, darling?”

“Fuck you, Astarion,” you hissed through your teeth. You turned to the druid, looking him in the eyes and bucking your hips in desperation. “Halsin..?”

“Give her to me,” the druid growled.

“Oh no! There will be no mutiny! Make no mistake, I’m still the one calling the shots here,” Astarion laughed. “...But seeing as you’re all so eager – sure.” He released your hands and raised you into a sitting position. “On the edge of the bed,” he gestured to Halsin, the druid complying without another word. “And you...” he held you by your jaw, his voice lowering. “I’ll let that slip by, but if you want me to allow you any relief, you will behave.”

You nodded, whimpering.

“Now do you want to ride his cock?”

“Yes,” you panted. Astarion just raised an eyebrow and didn’t make a move. “Yes, please, can I?”

“She’s yours,” he said to Halsin, with a smirk.

Suddenly you were lifted and found yourself on the druid’s lap on the opposite bed, your back against him, both of you facing Astarion.

“You can fuck that needy hole of hers all you want, but don’t touch her between her legs,” he said, reclining to admire his handiwork.

You were gliding your slit along Halsin’s shaft, covering his erection with your juices. It was something, but not nearly enough.

Halsin lifted you and began to ease you onto his cock, once again slowly, inch by inch.

“You don’t need to be so gentle,” you groaned.

“No no, slow and gentle is exactly what she deserves right now,” Astarion interjected, as you swore under your breath. “And don’t you dare touch yourself,” he said to you. You knew better than to defy him, and clutched at Halsin instead.

Halsin’s hands remained on the undersides of your thighs, your legs opened wide for Astarion’s devouring eyes, gripping you as he worked his cock inside you, raising and lowering your body along his length. It was agonisingly slow, and though it appeased the itch from Astarion’s lower bite, somewhat, it did nothing for your throbbing clit.

“You said you’d kiss it better, you fucking liar,” you threw at Astarion, your voice thick.

“What did I say about behaving?” said Astarion.

“Astarion, it hurts without you,” you groaned. “Please? My love..? I’m begging you.”

Astarion sighed dramatically, finally getting off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of you.

“Well we don’t want you in pain,” he murmured.

Finally, you felt Astarion’s mouth on your swollen sex, as he stroked your clit with his tongue. A moan tore from your throat as Halsin sped up the bucking of his hips, his thrusts in time with the strokes of Astarion’s tongue. This. This was what you had been craving so badly. The druid stretched and filled you completely, while Astarion’s tongue brought you to the edge of madness. And you could do absolutely nothing but accept and embrace what was happening to you. It wasn’t long before your whole body convulsed with the force of your orgasm, Halsin holding you tightly against him.

Once you’d regained your senses, you noticed that somewhere along the way Astarion had completely discarded his pants, and was now stroking himself with one hand, as he rubbed a thumb over your oversensitive clit.

“Hmm,” he hummed, studying it. “I don’t think it’s better yet.”

You nearly screamed as he went right back to sucking on it, alternating that with quick flicks of his tongue.

“Shh, sweet one...” Halsin breathed in your ear, placing a hand over your mouth, and lifting your hand into his hair with the other. “Yank on it hard if it’s too much. Can you do that?” You whimpered a ‘mmhmm’ as you grabbed a fistful.

Halsin leaned back on the bed so you were half-lying on top of him, your head thrown over his shoulder, as Astarion held your thighs open.

Astarion showed you no mercy as he lapped at you. Halsin sped up again, as you let out keening moans into his hand, losing your mind. There was no easing and relaxing into this - this orgasm was forced out of you, and you loved every second of it. Within a minute you came again, your thighs twitching violently.

Halsin groaned as you spasmed around him again.

“I cannot do this anymore... If she clenches around me like that again I will lose it.”

The druid slipped out of you and you were once again gliding along the length of his shaft, rubbing yourself against it.

Astarion lifted his mouth from you, wiping your wetness from his chin, as Halsin raised you back into a sitting position.

“He’s been so very patient with you, pet. Do you want to show your appreciation?”

“How?” you whispered, licking your lips.

“I think you already know how,” he murmured. “Come here. On your knees.”

You all but collapsed on the floor next to Astarion, your legs unsteady, looking up at Halsin.

“Taste him,” Astarion encouraged you. “You haven’t yet.”

“Oakfather preserve me,” Halsin groaned as you took his engorged, leaking cock into your hand. You were facing a dilemma. You didn’t think you could fit him into your mouth without dislocating your jaw. Instead you began by licking your juices off his length, savouring your own taste.

“Good girl,” Astarion purred next to you, sliding two fingers into your still throbbing pussy, as he stroked himself with his other hand.

You moaned and moved up to the head of Halsin’s cock with your mouth, licking up his precum, as the druid brushed your hair off your face and held it back for you. No, this wasn’t going to work. Instead you worked him with your hand as you moved down to lick and suck on his balls.

“I’m close,” Halsin groaned, throwing his head back, his fingernails scraping against your scalp.

“Suck on the head,” Astarion whispered beside you, continuing to dig his fingers into you, rougher now. “You can manage it.”

You moaned as you worked the tip of his penis into your mouth, slurping and sucking around it, wetly. This much you could do.

“Good...” Astarion whispered hoarsely, moving behind you. He was starting to shudder as he bit down on your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood, continuing his efforts to tear another orgasm out of you. He couldn’t have been far himself. “Make him come.”

Halsin’s cock twitched and pulsed in warning as you continued, the druid’s grip on your hair tightening.

“Swallow,” Astarion commanded, just as the druid finally spilled in your mouth. You glimpsed a few more strokes of Astarion’s hand from the corner of your eye, and you felt Astarion’s spend land in spurts on your back.

You sat back with a frustrated groan. His fingers inside you hadn’t been enough.

“My poor little minx...” Astarion murmured, catching his breath, kissing your neck up to your ear from behind you. “I know what you need. You’ve earned it.” He moved his hand to finally rub your clit again, massaging it roughly and deliberately. “Can you come for me one more time?” he whispered in your ear. “And here, let me taste him too.”

You came completely undone once Astarion’s tongue swirled hungrily against yours, as he continued to methodically work on your swollen clit, moaning and whimpering into his mouth through your climax.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said a short while later, relaxing in Astarion’s embrace after he'd cleaned the better part of your combined cum from your body. It was mid-morning by then. Miraculously, no one had come to bang on your door to try to get a move on, but then again anyone in the vicinity of the room would’ve immediately understood what was happening inside.

“Shall I go tell everyone you’re unwell, darling?” Astarion asked with a grin.

“Don’t you fucking dare speak to anyone about this or me, you’re staying right here,” you said as he laughed “...I don’t think they will be impressed that we’re all delayed because I’ve been fucked into incapacity,” you added.

“Oh on the contrary, I think they will be VERY impressed,“ said Astarion.

“I’ll go tell them you’re currently indisposed. ...A tad more tactfully. And I’ll see to it that a bath is prepared for you,” said Halsin, getting up and getting dressed.

“Thank you, Halsin... You are a blessing,” you said, shutting your eyes and falling back against Astarion as he left kisses along the side of your face.

Halsin hesitated at the door.

“Before I leave this room, I must know... Once this door shuts behind me, is... this-” he gestured at the three of you, “staying behind as well? Or can the future hold something for us?” The druid would accept whichever answer you gave him, but you could tell he was a hair’s breadth from a pained expression.

You and Astarion exchanged a look. You had gotten good at silent communication. It was Astarion who finally spoke.

“It doesn’t have to stay behind. You’ve been better for us than you might realize,” he shook his head with a small smile. “But let’s talk about that later.”

“I am glad,” Halsin said, smiling, before leaving.

“You think catnip is difficult to live down?” You groaned again, once Halsin was gone, twisting and hiding your face in Astarion’s neck.

“You should be proud,” he chuckled, hugging you tighter. “How do you feel..?”

“Fine, right now... It still throbs a bit, but I can ignore it. But it's been coming on in waves, I don’t know if there’s another coming or how big it might be.”

“Let me know if one does, I’ll take care of you,” he whispered, kissing you.

“Astarion?” you murmured, breaking the kiss.

“Hmm?”

“Can we do this again? Just the two of us? Later.”

You both knew what you meant by ‘later’.

“Greedy...” he smiled. “But yes. Once all this is behind us and we can just lounge in bed all day and night.”

“I can’t wait,” you whispered.

~~~~~

AO3

Next in series

Series masterlist

~~~~~

Tags: @twirlywhirlywriting - Hi! You are the reason this happened. I wasn't really planning on a part 3, but it clicked in my brain. Hope it's close enough to what you had in mind. I couldn't really give Halsin a more dom role though, as I think Astarion would lose his shit at this point.

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion smut #halsin smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut #astarion x halsin x tav #astarion x halsin x reader #halsin

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jungle-angel · 7 months

Text

The Full Moon (Admiral!Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob comes home one night from an event but the sight of something in front of you makes you a little hornier than usual

Warnings: SMUT! MINORS ARE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN!!! Breeding kink, so much other shit I can't even list out here, you guys know the drill (lol).

Tagging: @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts

Events, events, events, one after the other with no real end in sight. Bob was sick and damn tired of it, one Navy ball or fundraiser after another and hardly any time to spend with you or the babies at home, something he really needed now that winter had hit and another holiday would be around the corner.

His head, his shoulders and whole body were so tired it was a miracle he could get through the front door of that big Victorian house he shared with you and the kids, let alone march up the stairs to the sanctuary of your shared bedroom. Thank God Rooster and his wife had offered to take the kids and let them have a sleepover with Nicky and Pete. He couldn't have imagined having to keep Auggie and Patrick from running wild before bed.

Up to the room he went and into the bathroom, stripping off his dress blacks and hanging everything up on the door-hook. Bob sank right into the hot bath, letting out a long breath that he had forgot he had been holding in. He scrubbed every part of him down with the Irish Spring body wash and even let it foam in the hot water to help him relax.

When he had enough, Bob stepped out into the bedroom, letting the water out of the bath and throwing the towel into the laundry basket on the other side of the room. Bob's skin pricked with goosebumps as the cooler air in the bedroom surrounded him, more so now that he was completely naked.

He hadn't even seen you standing in the doorway either.

He hadn't heard your feet padding on the floor nor did he sense you sneaking up behind him until he felt it, a sound, hard smack on his left ass-cheek which had been exposed for your eyes to see.

"Well ahoy there Admiral!" you exclaimed, delivering the hard smack to his ass.

Bob yelped, turning around suddenly, cupping his junk in his hand and an over-exaggerated scowl on his face. There you were, (Y/n) Floyd, his lovely, sweet little wifey looking all innocent in your low cut, lacy white nightgown and a laughing smile on your face.

"Stop grabbing my ass," Bob said rather flatly, the expression still on his face.

"But the full moon was out and little wolfy couldn't help but howl," you said teasingly.

"Yeah well, little wolfy did more than howl," Bob pointed out.

You giggled a little, still blushing at your husband's naked form standing in front of you.

Yet the expression on Bob's face seemed to soften as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, catching you completely off guard and drawing a small moan out of you.

"Shhh, not another word," Bob told you gently.

You moaned again, the tingling between your legs becoming almost unbearable as his fingers parted the front of your nightgown, never once breaking the kiss that kept you both together. You arched your partially exposed breasts against his gentle fingertips, moaning when they brushed against your nipples.

Bob drew you in close, your leg flung across his hip as he buried his face in your neck and rutted against you. His groans, though quiet, were still obscene, more so when his hand pushed up the filmy skirts of your nightgown to caress your bare ass.

"You've been hiding this pretty little ass from me, haven't you Mrs. Floyd?" he groaned.

"Oh Bob.....please!"

Bob trailed all the sloppy, open mouthed kisses he possibly could between your cleavage, wanting to draw it out as slowly as possible. He very carefully laid you down on the bed, slipping his already hardened cock between your legs and moaning at the wetness that had already gathered.

"So wet for me, aren't you sweetheart?" he mumbled against your skin.

You could hardly get the words out, wanting him to push his cock further in. You reached in between the both of you, your hand a little cold despite your body feeling like it was on fire.

"Ah-ah!" Bob chided gently, moving your hand aside. "No more grabbing, Mrs. Floyd."

You feigned a pouty look before he smiled and kissed you again, the softness of his lips just enough to make some of your slickness gush onto his cock.

Bob's hips began rubbing against yours, slowly at first but as you both began to reach your high, his thrusting grew more rigorous as obscene thoughts began to fall off his tongue and out of his mouth.

"Wanna give you another baby Mrs. Floyd," Bob mumbled, his hips rubbing against yours. "Can't tell you how pretty you looked with Deidre.......all round and full with her resting in your tummy. Wanna get you full again."

You hissed and swore under your breath as he whispered all that dirty talk into your ear. You felt the wetness between your legs getting worse as his lips nipped at your ear and down your cheeks again. You both let out something akin to a moan and a whimper as Bob's hips stuttered against your own, your lips grazing against each other's as your rapid breathing began to even out.

You felt Bob's lips curling into a smile against your cheek before he kissed you and his heart beating fast in his chest as he lay on top of you. "Gimme a minute and I'll clean us both up," Bob groaned.

You kissed the crown of his head, your fingers running through his curling dark blonde hair that was still wet from the bath. "No need to hurry Bob," you assured him. "We've got all weekend."

You both helped clean each other up as best you could but soon, the sleepiness had gotten to you both. You and Bob both lay against each other in bed, himself still naked as you rested your head on his bare chest, listening to the sweet sound of his heart beating in your ear. Your gentle kissing and caressing was putting you both to sleep, totally relaxed and at ease with each other.

"Did you mean what you said Bob?" you asked.

"About what?"

"About......wanting another one?"

Bob smiled sleepily. "Sweetheart," he said sweetly. "There's always room for one more in the family and so much love to go around."

You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips as you fell asleep in each other's arms, yet the smiles on yours and Bob's faces had said it all, those same smiles you wore on the nights that Auggie, Patrick and Deidre had been concieved and the same stirring you felt in your belly when it had took.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #admiral!bob #admiral!bob floyd #admiral!bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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anadiasmount · 3 months

Text

not what you think - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: a club filled with many girls but the one he wants is standing in the dance floor, his best friends little sister. he shouldn’t be thinking the way he does, but something about seeing you doing something he never thought and imagined has his mind racing with thoughts that were forbidden…

wc: 2.1k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: another brothers bsf trope after a anon requested!! mostly will be jude’s pov being jealous and protective *winks* this is slowly becoming one of my fav tropes ngl :PPP but nothing will beat enemies to lovers🤞🏻 like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“didn’t know johnny’s little sis could move like that,” jude’s friend snickered, sipping on his drink as he stared out at you. jude twisted his head at him in confusion failing to comprehend his words before following his gaze to you. throwing your head back laughing as you moved your hips in circles going down.

jude’s jaw locked in place, scoffing as he watched you come back being faced with your back. “yeah i always knew she wasn’t so innocent… there’s no way a pretty girl like her doesn’t have something besides her good grades,” jude’s other friend said, turning his head to the side as he watched you continue dancing with a sly smile on his lips.

“if she wasn’t johnny’s sister, i would’ve probably already tapped that ass… i mean look at the way she’s doing that,” jude’s friend to the right said, gulping as you threw your ass back to your friend and rolled your hips back up. jude gripped his glass tightly, downing his drink in one go as he fought to urge to say something he shouldn’t. “so fucking sexy…”

“guys… she’s johnnys sister for god's sake. if he found out you were talking about her like this, he would have your head…” jude remarked, filling his glass once again still entranced as you danced with your friends, not caring about anyone else or anything around you. just your seductive and powerful moves. “johnny’s not here though, wonder if he knows she's here?”

jude’s throat ran dry, biting the urge to drag you out of the damn club and take you home, where you should’ve been. not here where every man in the room had their eyes on you, including him. watching the way you were dancing, laughing, being a careless y/n like he knew.

you wore a short black dress that hugged your figure like a glove, drawing and tracing out your curves, ass, and boobs perky, legs longer as you wore high black valentino pumps, and hair perfectly silky straight. jude swore he died on the spot when he saw your red lip and lashes behind the smoky eye look.

he grew up with you. knew when you got upset and happy. the y/n he knew who always said a quiet hello to him with a shy smile and wave. avoided him and his friends when they showed up to your home, quickly running up to your room. the quiet y/n who was always focused on her studies with glasses on and laid on her stomach with her legs crossed as she read.

the quiet y/n who listened to music as she drew in her notebook. his y/n, the one he stole glances at when she wore small shirts and shorts wasn’t the one on the dance floor. the y/n who helped her mum in the kitchen and teased her brother to embarrass him when she wanted to be the annoying little sis she was.

his y/n who couldn’t keep eye contact when he spoke to her, cheeks flushed as she stuttered over her words. his y/n always made sure everyone was happy before anyone else. his y/n the one who helped him and his friends come home after being left stranded wasn’t nothing like the one he stared at now.

his y/n? when had that changed? his feelings for you?

when did all of a sudden did he feel the urge to claim you as his? the need to hear your angelic voice? why did he feel a wave of anger and jealousy build inside him as you moved your hips slowly down like a pro? why did he want to punch his friends for saying they wanted you? when did all of a sudden had you grown up into a woman? had he missed something? where was his y/n, the one he fell for?

jude was anything but a saint, he unfortunately had a reputation that he could give less than a shit about, the only girl he wanted all along was here in the same club as him. he found you endearing, left wondering with forbidden thoughts of his best friend's little sister. how you would taste on his lips, if the act of innocence was just an act and not real, if you thought of him as he did with you. if there was more to this side you had, sexy and careless that he began to love.

jude pinched the middle of his brows, sighing as you finally stopped dancing and now hyped your other friends up. it was killing him, everything you were doing was killing him. you were beyond perfect and deserved so much more than the men in this club. someone to treat you with love and tenderness, with love and respect. jude knew he could offer you that, he was left conflicted because you never showed an ounce of feelings for him.

jude licked his teeth scoffing in denial, watching you move in slow motion again, hands roaming your sides seductively as you brought them up in the air continuing to move your hips and ass. he managed to look away and scratch his jaw when your friends cheered you on, giving you a shot of tequila and downing it in one go like he did as well not to long ago.

jude almost jumped out of his seat as a tall man approached you, someone way older trying to get your attention. the man was obviously gawking at you, leaning down to your level to whisper into your ear, you shook your head displeased, hugging your friend and sticking with her. jude smugged cockily, downing his final glass before going over to you.

“i'm gonna get her home you guys stay here,” jude said, picking up his wallet and leaving some change as part of the tab. his friends stared at him confused, stopping him by patting his chest and pushing him back. “are you crazy? she's here with friends just let her be, she’s fine,” one of his friends spoke. “it's not our problem to deal with,” his other friend reminded him.

“it will be once johnny finds out she was here, especially if he knew we were here and we didn’t do anything about it,” jude said with irritation. he had to pull the “angry brother, looking out for his best bro’s little sis” card, knowing how much you hated being treated like a child. johnny could be so overprotective about anything, boys and your life, you sometimes resented him for that. jude knew this, but all he wanted was to get you away from here to your home because he was mad and jealous.

he looked between both of his friends at you once more, who finally went and stood by the bar ordering a drink with your friends. he said his goodbyes again, charging between all the sweaty bodies to the front of the bar where your back faced him. with you much closer now he could finally see you face to face. your friend had stood up straighter almost choking on her drink when she saw jude approach you, standing white as a ghost, “uh oh”.

you crinkled your brows in bewilderment, looking to your left where you saw jude looking down at you. “tired?” he humorously asked leaning down to whisper in your ear. “what?” you asked softly, hugging yourself at the thought of getting scolded by your brothers best friend. “i’ve been watching you for the past hour, dancing and drinking, does johnny know you're here?”

your face filled with mortification at jude’s words, knowing you were dancing and watched by him. how had you not noticed him? had he been here the whole time you were? “what he doesn't know won't kill him. plus, i asked my mom for permission, he’s not my father let alone anyone to control my life,” you clarified.

jude gave you a knowing smile, shaking his head in amusement, still his innocent and feisty y/n. “we both know if that he was here, he would’ve dragged you out the minute he saw you,” jude challenges watching your eyes roll back in annoyance. “did you need something? or are you going to stand here and be annoying like him?” you ask with a small frown on your face.

“we’re going home.”

“says who?” you fired back, it could be the tequila shots but right now jude was being like johnny and you hated him for that. you just wanted a night out with your girls and he was ruining that. “says me. are we going to do this the easy or hard way, y/n?” jude crossed his arms copying you, veins prominently guiding all along his forearms and hands.

the way he said your name had your heart racing nervously. you hated being treated like a kid, you were an adult and jude was reminding you a whole lot of your older brother. he was his best friend, your brother’s hot best friend. there was no need for all this drama, why was he so bothered by the fact you being here? so you questioned him just that, “are you bugged by me being here or something?”

jude couldn't find the words to reply, watching your doe eyes look down and up at him. “this isn't a place for you to be at, how would your mom feel at you drinking?” he quickly lied, hiding the real reason. “i'm drinking responsibly jude. i'm not a kid anymore, i know what i’m doing,” you declare. “if me being here bothers you, then we can just find another club, easier said than done.” you grab your bag and prepare to walk out but jude grips your wrist.

you’d never had a problem with jude, but he was starting to give you the reason. there was many times your brother and his friends left you out, even in your own home. then as you grew up, you knew they were just boys being boys. with jude it was always different, wanting to include you, and make you feel engaged. even offering to hang out with you so you wouldn’t be lonely.

where was this unexpected attitude and nagging coming from? you expected him to at least let you stay, wave you off with a ‘be careful’, and go on with his night. the jude you knew, who was charming and a gentleman, wasn't the one who stared right into your eyes currently. his brown eyes filled with not anger but almost jealousy? was he jealous or trying to look out for you because you were his best friend's little sister?

jude didn’t want you to go anywhere. he wanted to keep you safe along his side for the rest of the night. he knew you were pissed at him, but that would pass because he knew you couldn't stay mad for a long time. jude could see the anger rise in your eyes even with the club lighting. he could also see the hesitation and resistance in you, debating whether or not to go or stay. “we’re going home, y/n,” he remarks again. “i can take care of myself,” you say again with now a less confident voice. “really?” jude dares, scoffing and letting out a chuckle, pointing to the man who approached what seemed an eternity ago.

“if you knew how to take care of yourself, you would know that man has been eyeing you,” jude's eyes roamed you up and down, watching how you crossed one leg in front of the other, “and your drink for the past half hour. who knows what his intentions are, but if you really knew how to take care of yourself you’d know better…”

you looked down in humiliation, your thumb stroking your exposed skin in an attempt to comfort yourself. “i’m just trying to look out for you,” jude said softly his eyes drawn in trying to read you. “i know you are, but why does part of me feel like that isn't the only reason? that you're here for other intentions as well…”

bingo. you caught him. jude stood up straighter, clearing his throat and clenching his jaw, tense. “good night, jude,” you smiled as if you’d won a trophy for the best detective in the city. you paid for the drink, almost returning to your friends when you feel a hand wrap around your waist and pull you into their chest. you could feel jude lean down and leave your body with goosebumps.

“we’re leaving now. if you’re a good girl, i’ll tell you exactly what you want to know…”

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fic #football x reader #football fanfic #footballer #football x you #football imagine

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sevi-rous · 1 year

Text

ONLY 4 U ! 💭 ,, xavier thorpe.

word count : 591

genre : a little angst, fluff ending

warnings : none, i think lol

you knocked on xavier's art room door. you've been standing here for a few minutes now, debating whether or not to go inside. but you thought it would be impolite, so you kept knocking. maybe xavier was still angry at you after your earlier fight, which is why he's ignoring your knocks.

you sigh, about to turn around, when the door in front of you opens, revealing xavier, who is staring at you with an unamused expression. "what do you want? you've been knocking on my door for the last 5 minutes now," he asked, running his fingers through his hair and wearing an airpod in his right ear.

"i wanted to... talk to you," you say, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. "well, we're talking now, aren't we?" he scoffed and turned around, leaving the door open for you to enter. you looked around his art room and noticed that it was cleaner than before, and that the paintings of the monster that he had created were no longer present.

you enter the room anxiously and take a seat behind the chair he is sitting in. "did you draw earlier?" you inquire, nervously. god, it's painfully obvious how hard he's trying to ignore you right now, but even the gods know he can't. you just have that effect on him.

"yeah, i drew you," he sighs, handing you the paper without looking. you scanned the paper and noticed that it was a drawing of you, sitting on a wooden chair, laughing. it looked familiar. the scenery appeared to be familiar. then it hit you. this was the time you and xavier went on a picnic near the lake.

your cheeks flushed, and you look away, aware that he can't even see you. "look... i'm sorry. i'm sorry for the fight we had, and i'm sorry for saying those things to you. i wasn't thinking, and those words just... came out of my mouth. i don't mean it, i swear. i'm sorry xavier, it's been difficult for me not to talk to you, and it still is, knowing that we aren't exactly on... good terms right now."

you take a deep breath and close your eyes, waiting for his response. you open your eyes when you hear him sigh, only to be met by his. he snatched your wrist and drew you into a hug. he clutched you so tightly that you felt as if you couldn't breathe.

you sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. "i've missed you so much. it was killing me every time i walked past you in the halls and you weren't greeting me. god... you have me wrapped around your finger, [name]. i'm sorry for not talking or apologizing to you sooner. i'm sorry," he mumbles on your chest.

you caress his hair, feeling him hug you tighter. you pull away, holding both sides of his face. you scan his face, your gaze resting on his lips. you draw him closer to you and press your lips against his.

you felt him smile into the kiss and returned the act. you step back and hug him one more time. "i'm so glad we made up... i don't think i could've survived another day without you," he laughed.

you laughed as you scrunched your nose. "someone's feeling a little sappy, hm?"

he laughed and hugged you once more. you buried your face against his neck and felt him kiss the top of your head. xavier thorpe was a complete sap. but only for you.

#wednesday addams #xavier thorpe #wednesday #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fanfic #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white #xavier thorpe u own my heart 🫶🏻

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donutz · 2 months

Text

Yandere Catnap x female Smiling Critter cat reader

Request from Wattpad-! Here you go Buttmens(💀)☆

Being locked up in these cells is insufferable.

Catnap and I can’t do anything.

We both operate on sleeping. So we both have the red gas. We both used it, it was built into our system. Yet we end up into these cells for it. Apparently, it causes violent nightmares. From Catnap’s gas. Neither the workers nor I know if my gas causes nightmares.

They still put me in containment. Plus, I was similar to Catnap, not approaching the kids. So they were all wary about me and that gas product.

Even when Catnap and I are locked up, we still communicate. Not verbally. Telepathically, you could say. We intertwine our tails to communicate. Our tails are very long so it’s not hard.

Catnap’s planning to kill the people in this place. To work with Experiment 1006, seeing him as a god, and he’ll save us. Considering Catnap is just a kid(Hmm… I wonder why I bolded, underlined, and italicized the word kid… Hmm…)

You’d think he’d be joking because he’s a kid. But, considering who Catnap is, he’s not. At random times of the day he’d whisper, “THE PROTOTYPE WILL SAVE US.” Or something like that.

I’m not sure if I’ll follow Prototype—

“Hey guys…”

The sound of your bright friend’s voice interrupted both of your thoughts.

“Uhm. A kid drew both of you, they were wondering if you were going to come back…” He gave you two the kid’s drawings, it was sloppy, but you appreciated it.

“Do you… Know, when you two are coming back…?” You said no, while Catnap didn’t answer.

“Oh…”

You reach your paw out the cell, and put your finger on Dogday’s head. You then move it to his ears, petting him.

“We’ll come back, Dogday. Eventually.”

Moving to the underside of his chin, you give him scratches.

“Mm.. Okay!” His tail was wagging pretty fast, as he is a dog.

Then you gave him a small poke on his nose, “Now you go on and make the kids happy, okay?” You said.

“Mhm! Bye you two!” He waved his paw, signaling his goodbyes.

Normally, from you doing that to someone. Catnap would get pretty jealous. But it’s Dogday. So it’s okay. Catnap trusts Dogday, he knows he wouldn’t do that. Not to Catnap.

Though you could still see the jealousy on his face. He gave you that spooooky scare, silently communicating on why you did it.

“It was because I knew he needed some comfort Catnap. We’ll stay together until the end.” (Not in the romantic adult way, like the way when kids got little crushes on each other or somethin. The type you’d see in little kids shows, it’s rare, but it’s there. I will NOT make the reader feel that way about Catnap).

Then he stopped looking so jealous.

Now it’s the day. The day Catnap will act out, he’s already out of his cell, because he snuck the worker’s keys. Then he let you out.

“Do you… Want to kill with me…?” He asked.

You weren’t too sure. Not the critters, not the toys. Not any of the toys. Just the bad adults and stuff.

“Only the bad adults..” You answered, you weren’t sure if he’d accept the answer, but thankfully he did. He then left.

You were alone now.

‘I should alert the critters.’ You thought.

They were all in a room, then you rushed into it.

“YOU ALL NEED TO RUN. GET THE KIDS TO A SAFE PLACE. SOMETHING BAD WILL HAPPEN ANY SECOND—”

Screams. Men and women, kids. They were all yelling and screaming. Out of fear, not of joy. The critters were confused? What were you talking about? Why did they hear someone scream? And why wasn’t it from joy?

“GET THE KIDS. NOW.” They were all asking questions, but followed along. Well, Dogday mainly did, as the leader he multitasked. Getting the critters and kids safe. Though it wasn’t very successful.

You had to run. Run over to kill the ‘bad adults’. Like you said you would.

A few minutes later, you were managing to get the kids to a safe place while looking for your targets. You found it. The man who tortured and teased you and Catnap.

You can’t go back on this now.

You scruffed him with your paw and hesitantly ate him. Your pupils dilated. The taste was wonderful. You didn’t care about the kids anymore, you killed them. Threw them roughly to a wall, stomped on them, y’know, to put them out of their misery before you ate them?

You still had somewhat of a heart. Even killing all of these innocent children.

Ugh. That sounds gross, the adrenaline wore off for a second, and you could see the murder you caused.

All the blood, dead bodies. That was because of you! Catnap's so proud of you for doing such a good job!

He's quite surprised that you even got the courage to kill people. You were on the nicer side, trying to not have Catnap escalate things in his cold head(Even at his young age).

So to see you murdering people?! It was very entertaining.

You were looking at the bodies. Just staring. Then you saw Catnap. He walked up to you.

“Good… Job.” He praised.

Your pupils dilated from that. He rubbed his head against yours, cuddling with you slightly.

You could hear his purrs!

You cuddled back, purring. Just you two being cats. Extracting all of the— blood. That's spread around the place.

You're just a cat ^_^.

After the hour of joy, Catnap and you were just searching over the place, making sure there were no survivors. Though, Catnap sped away, possibly looking for someone.

You hoped Dogday was safe.

10 years later, you now ‘worshiped’ Catnap.

The way you thought about Catnap is the way Catnap thought about the Prototype.

Sadly, Dogday didn't believe in the Prototype. So he's… Chained up. You comfort him at times, Catnap doesn't really let you be around him. But you know he won't do anything, as long as he's watching.

Other than that you two were the cuddliest kittens ever!!!

Such a cute cat duo!!

You two would be a star if you didn't murder people.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #female reader #yandere #yandere poppy playtime #catnap #yandere catnap #yandere catnap x reader #yandere catnap x female reader #yandere catnap x female smiling critter cat reader #smiling critter cat reader #female smiling critter cat reader

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thatfreshi · 8 months

Note

I was wondering if you could write Astarion having to tend to a very cuddly drunk female Tav. Possibly having to defend her from other people trying to take advantage of her.

This took me on a very sad adventure

TW - blood and gore, attempted sexual assault, drinking

Recommended Song: Drew Barrymore - SZA

The nice thing about no longer being on wild adventures full of tadpoles and cultists is that you and Astarion can go out drinking like normal people. While your vampiric lover thoroughly enjoys a good glass of wine, he usually stops himself at one. Perhaps he's a little paranoid about you, your safety, but he insists not to have more than one when the two of you are out together. At the house? Sure, he'll finish two bottles with you, the two of you drunkenly laughing by the fireplace, but not when danger could be afoot. You try to tell him he's just anxious, tense, that you'll be alright.

"I'd rather just make sure my love. You indulge all you want darling, I'll be fine."

In one of the more rowdy taverns, you and Astarion sit at a table off to the side, watching people get drunk and dance, bumping into strangers, sometimes fights ensue. As per usual, he nurses his singular glass. You look at him, a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can just skip out tonight, maybe we can just drink later, when we get back."

"Nonsense, have your fun my sweet. I insist."

You squeeze his hand.

"Alright then, I'm off to get my second... you can tell me to stop anytime!"

You tease as you slowly walk away, almost backing up into a nearby half-orc. He simply smiles at you, one of those smiles that says everything he's thinking, how he thinks you're precious, how he'd gladly never get drunk again if it meant keeping you. Years ago, he would've never given up a vice for some person. But you, you make this feeling well up in his chest, like he has to hold you close at all times, worried someone will snatch you when he's not looking. You may make fun of him for simply being a paranoid person, but you made it a million times worse.

"I'm back!"

Your voice draws out, and you return with two mugs of beer instead of just the one.

"Already going for three darling? You do remember you're a lightweight, right?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor is here to take me home if I throw up on someone."

You lie against his arm, starting on your second drink.

"You did eat before we left the house, right my sweet?"

You look up at him silently. He just sighs, running his hand through your hair.

"Then why did you need to go to the kitchen before we left?"

You giggle a little.

"To... pre-game!"

The laughter rings out of your throat as Astarion sighs, again, more annoyed this time.

"So you're telling me-"

"Already gettin' drunk Aster, it's a great time."

The more and more you talk, the more he realizes your words are becoming more slurred. Perhaps he should've asked before you left, made sure you at least grabbed a bite.

"Alright, you stay right here, I'm going to get you some water and a little snack."

He gets up, swiftly grabbing the two mugs off the table while you protest.

"Hey, I wasn't done with those!"

As Astarion makes his way to the bar, asking for the classic drunkard's care package, he's suddenly nervous. Had you ever been this drunk in public before? Maybe the two of you should just go home, before you somehow get your hands on any more alcohol. After thanking the barkeep for the water and some bread, he comes back through the crowd, and sure enough you have left the table.

"Gods damn it Tav."

After setting down what was supposed to be your little pick-me-up, Astarion quickly moves through the groups of people, knowing you probably just got up to dance. The bard playing tonight was quite excellent after all. However, after looking through most of the common space, you're nowhere to be found. That feeling of panic starts to well up inside of him, where he's only driven by fear. He knows you can't be far, but he also knows most of the tavern-goers here are slimy, horrific people looking for their next bag of gold. Walking through the crowd again, Astarion comes near the back entrance, and hears a conversation down one of the abandoned hallways.

"A gal like you, surprised you're here alone."

He rounds the corner, seeing you and a bulky half-elf, your arms pinned above your head. You seem nervous, but not conscious enough to realize anything is truly wrong. Astarion stalks up behind the wretched man, wrapping his dagger around the half-elf's throat.

"No so alone anymore, are we?"

Your captor surprisingly doesn't stand down.

"You won't do shit. People know me around here, important people, they'd surely have your head if something happened to me."

"Not if I hide your body well enough. And trust me, I have experience."

The two of them are un-moving for a moment as your wrists start to go numb from the pressure. You groan in pain, only causing the half-elf to grab you tighter. As Astarion goes to press his blade into the man's neck, he whips around, pushing Astarion back. Gods, he's tall. You fall back against the wall, trying to nurse the pain in your hands. As Astarion and the stranger fight, you hear the sounds of blades colliding, but your head is spinning. Perhaps he was right about the whole 'eat before you drink' thing.

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you hear a loud thump on the floor. The half-elf almost knocked Astarion out. leaving him on the ground. The stranger then turns back to you, lifting you back up from the floor, going to open the back door.

"What a find. Can't wait to enjoy you."

In that moment, while trying to get his bearings, Astarion realizes this wasn't just someone threatening you, and that disgusting feeling fills his stomach. He remembers how many times he shared his body against his will, and the adrenaline of that anger is enough to get him back on his feet. As you and the half-elf make it out the door, Astarion rushes him, tripping one foot out from under him. And then he drives his blade into the stranger's back, again, and again, and again, and again, and again. He's covered in the sinner's blood, shaking with both rage and misery. The violent display helped sober you up just a little, enough to make you realize that Astarion has killed someone behind the bar, and that it was clearly deserved. He looks up, locking eyes with you, still holding his blade down, as if the dead man needs yet another plunging strike in his back.

"Astarion?"

You ask, your voice full of uncertainty, the past few minutes still a blur. He begins to cry, putting his dagger in the ground, slowly crawling over to where you've ended up on the ground. He holds you tight, almost to the point of pain. He doesn't say anything, and you simply watch the blood pour out of the man's corpse as he grips you tight. Flooding memories cover every space of his mind, seduction, imprisonment, and most of all, Cazador's death.

"Astarion... you're hurting my arm."

You say softly, not fully aware of just how distraught he is, still far too inebriated. You're sad though, because he's sad, and you can't quite put together why. He lets go, wrapping his arms under his legs, crying into his knees. You try to comfort him, despite your state.

"It's okay, it's over now."

You don't even know what's over, but if someone is dead and Astarion is still alive, he must've ended it.

"I know."

He chokes out those two pathetic words, looking back up at you.

"We need to leave."

The survival instinct kicks in, knowing he can't explain why this man has at least five stab wounds in his back. The second one of the bartenders finds this, it'll be over.

"Come, this way, we're going to take the back alley."

Snatching up your arm, Astarion leads you through the darkness, mumbling things to himself that you can't quite hear. The two of you move quickly through the night as you stumble around behind him. When the two of you get home, he gets you some water, leading you upstairs so you can lie down.

"Are you okay?"

Such an innocent question. He knows you'll remember tomorrow, that it's not like you're blacked out or anything, just confused.

"I'll be fine my dove. Get some rest now, it's alright."

It's as if he's trying to convince himself, but it's enough for you in your drunken stupor. You curl up into the heavy blanket cast across the bed, and he leaves a kiss on your head. Not long after, you're drifting off to sleep, exhausted.

As Astarion makes his way to the bathroom, he thinks of the horrific things that could've happened, of how cruel humanity is. He thinks about how you have to be the only truly good person in all of Faerûn. He'll never get all the blood off his face, not while you're asleep. His mirror, his sun, his everything, and you were almost tainted the very same way he was.

When you wake up the next morning, Astarion isn't in bed. You try to reach out groggily, looking for that embrace, only to be left with cold sheets. Thinking back on the night before, the memories start to filter in. The drinks, the half-elf, the stabbing, and Astarion sobbing. The full picture isn't entirely there, but there's enough pieces for you to realize. That man, he found you drunk in the tavern, and tried to take advantage of you.

You stumble out of bed, walking down the stairs, rubbing your eyes.

Astarion is in the kitchen, drinking some tea, his eyes bloodshot. You don't say anything, slowly walking up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He puts his tea down and rests his head on yours.

"Are you alright my love?"

"I'm fine. Are you alright?"

You make some space again, looking up at him, holding his hands in yours. They start to shake again, rage and misery. You move a piece of hair out of his face.

"He didn't do anything to me love, I'm okay."

"Just- the thought of- I-"

He tries to hold back the tears again.

"It's okay, you can cry. It's going to be okay."

With that allowance, the permission to let go, he cries again.

"I don't ever want you to feel like that Tav, the way I felt. It's so, disgusting."

"I know, but it's over Aster. It's over now. You're okay, we're okay."

You wrap around him again, and he continues to weep.

"I love you, so much, and they didn't ruin you, I promise."

That worry, that he'll never be the same, that he's forever fractured now, that a piece of him is gone. Innocence, what a loaded word. Those who are guilty make the innocent feel guilty, and those who are guilty feel powerful, and the cycle continues, always continuing. You stand in the kitchen for a long time, letting him get all of the pain out, your shirt sleeve wet with his tears.

"I just wish I didn't have to be scared anymore."

You frown, thinking on his statement, knowing that no one is ever truly safe. You'll both live in fear forever, of those that think cruelty is accomplishment.

"I know."

It's all you can say, because you can't lie and tell him there's a day he won't have to be scared, that one day all the monsters of the world will be gone. There's nothing to learn, no moral, no mistake to fix, just pain. Pain caused by those who greed after anguish.

"Do you think I've changed? Or am I just as I was, a scared, beaten slave?"

"Gods Astarion, of course you've changed. It's the world that hasn't. We're better than them though, even if that's all we have."

Neither of you reach any resolution, nothing that makes you feel better. Instead, you sit on the sofa by the fire, watching the wood go up in flames, softly speaking about the suffering. You lie in each other's arms, sad. Misery loves company, and the two of you sit in that aura of grieving for a long time, grieving his past, grieving what could have been a kinder world. But here, in this sacred space, where feelings are free to run wild, where you can cry as much as you need, that's the only place you're truly safe. And that's alright, as long as it's together.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #comfort #angst #baldur's gate 3

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idyllcy · 9 months

Text

couple tiktoks with the robins

Word count: ~ 700

Summary: cheesy tiktok trends with the robins :3

𓅫. "Heard you're looking for a boyfriend" - Tim Drake

"'kay, just," you show Tim the tiktok, fingers laced together, practically begging him to do the tiktok with you. Tim grimaces, but it's minimal effort, so he listens. He stands to the side as the audio plays from your shared airpods, waiting for you to move the camera to the side. He hates to admit it, but as he steps next to you to lean on the mirror, raising a brow with a mask on and your eyes light up, his breath catches in his throat. You're always so pretty— too pretty. You're always so pretty. And god, if doing couple trends meant that you'd stare at him like that, then he'd do all of them with you. (Though, he has to make sure none of his friends finds out about them. The embarrassment would eat him alive) Tim waits for you to stop recording, the noise going off in his ear as he steps next to you, staring at the tiktok. He looks just as lovesick as you. "Aww, you're supposed to look a little intimidating." You mumble quietly. "You're looking at me too cheesily" "You look too excited too." Tim sticks his tongue out at you, pointing at the way your pupils were blown wide. "Maybe we're both just lovesick fools." Tim doesn't see a problem with that.

𓅫. "she is the best thing that's ever been mine" - Jason Todd

"I know this is a trend for sapphics but please please please PLEASE—" You beg. "The only photos I'd be able to put are the ugly ones of you." Jason rolls his eyes. "No." "But you have a whole album of—" "No." You pout, jutting out your bottom lip at Jason as he wavers slightly. He doesn't even have capcut downloaded. He doesn't want to download it. It's just a silly tiktok trend, and sure you're obsessed with showing him off on your private social media, but there was no way he was posting you on his accounts. You grumble, going back to scrolling through your phone, typing on it, and Jason assumes that you're complaining to your friends about how he won't do the trend. He goes back to his own phone, putting his airpod back on, a video playing. You could complain all you want— He wasn't doing it. Yet, the recently deleted app on his phone and the newly downloaded video on his hidden album suggest anything but. Stupid. It's in his drafts. (Not that he'd tell you.)

𓅫. "Oh, I can't stop singing" - Damian Wayne

"Stay still." You set your phone on the table as you squish onto Damian's lap, and he raises a brow at you, setting his pencil down. He notices your phone recording, and you pull out your lipstick. Damian pauses. He knows this audio. He's pretty sure one of his classmates was showing him it a while ago. You draw half a heart onto your cheek, pressing your cheek to his affectionately, warmth pressed to Damian's cheeks, leaving the mark of a heart... no you drew the half the wrong way. You pause, the mistake registering in your head as the audio continues playing. "Habibbti, I don't think—" You burst into laughter at the accident, hiding your face in his collar, kicking your legs in embarrassment. Damian purses his lips in amusement with you, running his hand down your back soothingly while shaking slightly. That was funny. "Sorry for messing up and making you pause." You stop laughing after a while. Damian smiles, shaking his head, reaching for a wet wipe on his desk. "Would you like to try again?" Who are you to say no?

𓅫. "stay with me, I don't want you to leave" -Dick Grayson

"Okay, so—" "I'm in." Dick gives you two thumbs up. "I recognize this audio." "I really can't surprise you with any couple trend, huh?" You laugh. "Sweetheart, I'm on Tiktok more than you." Dick smiles, handing you your lipstick. You pout, taking it anyway, peppering Dick's face with kisses before the lipstick dries, smudging some of the kisses, letting the others look fine on their own on others. Dick presses kisses back to your skin while you reapply the lipstick, some of the red on his lips getting on yours, causing you to pout. He was getting you red too. You finish, eventually. (Dick's face is practically a red mess from both you and the lipstick) You step to the side to wipe the lipstick he got onto your face, setting up your phone and starting the tiktok. Dick stares at you the whole time, eyes gentle, sick with an affection reserved for only you, lips pulled into a foolish smile. You pout when you ruin your lipstick, only for Dick to reach for your chin, the phone panning to his face, a mess of red on his face, a stupid smile on his face, eyes crinkled, holding all of the love in the world for you and only you. (and god do you melt at the sight)

#dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #batboys x reader #you know how I said no fic this week? I lied. You're welcome #see I'd put batboys but I'd have to include duke and I know minimal information about him so that would be smth for a potential pt2 #and I'd probs include Bruce in said part 2 and maybe the girlies bc I love the girlis n need to write for the girlies TT #also originally this whole thing was for Tim but I decided no I needed to write the others too i write too much for tim

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the-orange-tabby-cat · 2 months

Text

Wednesday

joel miller x fem!reader

Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾

read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n Word count of the chapter: 3,7k

A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾

I. LILAC

Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm.

His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.

Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.

As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.

7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.

8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.

At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?

“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text.

You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?

The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony. The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.

As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.

“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.

He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.

“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”

“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way.

You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.

Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.

“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”

“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.

“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”

Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.

“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”

“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.

“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”

The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.

Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.

Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.

This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.

“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.

“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.

“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.

“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.

The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.

Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back.

Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.

Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.

People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.

His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.

It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.

The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.

“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.

Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.

“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.

“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”

“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.

“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.

“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.

“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.

“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.

“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”

“Sam,” Henry says firmly.

“Abigail,” you speak loudly.

Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you.

“Teresa,” Tess points at her.

“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place.

You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.

You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.

Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.

“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.

“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”

“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.

“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.

The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.

“Who is Sarah?”

“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”

“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.

“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”

Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.

“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”

He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.

“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.

“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”

“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”

That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.

“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.

“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”

“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.

“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.

He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy.

The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.

Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.

“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.

“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.

“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”

“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.

“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.

“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.”

And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.

“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.

“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard. next chapter

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