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luxurychristmaspudding · 10 months ago

Text

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all. until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said.

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled.

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him.

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you.

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out.

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten.

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking.

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other.

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away.

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice.

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out.

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner.

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand.

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks.

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally.

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter.

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there.

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him.

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him.

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street.

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping.

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes.

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down.

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging.

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope.

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name.

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on.

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch.

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim.

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle.

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches.

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot.

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare.

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms.

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach.

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it.

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering -

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed.

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable.

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put.

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips.

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed.

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question.

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt.

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain.

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp.

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off.

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘Just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock.

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pickup truck #kings of leon #Spotify #pedro pascal x reader

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bagdaddyb · 1 year ago

Text

Oh to Mate

Kinktober 🎃

Summary: ABO with little plot but a lot of smut cause sometimes we all need omega Nat in our lives.

Pairing: alpha g!pReader x omega! Nat

Warnings: NSFW NSFW NSFW. 18+ Minors DNI . Asshole Steve.

AN: First time posting my writing in a while but I miss it. Hopefully I've improved. Enjoy!

It started out as simple disbelief. Natasha was tired of all the female omegas around the compound raving about you, unmated fun and a few sympathy ruts left many of the females hoping you'd truly become their alpha. No one could be that good, Natasha's few experiences with unmated alphas were less than pleasurable an alpha never even having made her cum. So only to prove the rumors wrong when her next heat started to come around she stayed close to you every free moment she had. On the final day before she knew she'd have to isolate everytime you came around she let go small whimpers and pained noises. It was no surprise by that night that you approched her mentioning a sympathy rut and offering to help her through her heat. Now in her room a few hours later heat hitting her full force she squirmed not looking forward to another unsatisfied heat.

She was already bare her body temperature, threatening to overheat if she kept on clothing. Laying on her back head propped on her pillows surrounded by things she used to put together a make shift nest she watched as you slowly pulled off your shirt scars laced your abdomen and arms proof of past missions and a tramatic back story. You were thick with muscle and meat. A large alpha whose presence could be felt enter a room you would make any omega happy. You kept on your shorts and bra on not wanting to intimidate the omega. Approaching slowly, you stand at the end of the bed, eyeing the case of water and small snacks you'd stacked near the bed before meeting Natasha's eye.

"May I enter your nest?"

Natasha's brows raised in slight surprise, while a nest was meant to be an omegas safe space she hadn't met an alpha who'd respected it yet.

"Yes."

She whispered. You cut back your scent as much as possible, climbing lightly into the nest not wanting to disturb anything or overwhelm the omega.

"What do you need omega? How can I help you?"

Another surprise, since when did an alpha care about anyone other than themselves. A whimper left Natasha involuntarily, it'd been a long time since she's had an alpha this close during her heat and it was making the pain worse.

"It hurts."

Natasha whimpered slightly curling in on herself. Releasing a comforting noise you crawl towards Natasha hovering over her you lean and kiss her head before moving down her body, you run your hands down her side as you kiss her chest leaving fire in your wake. You left kisses everywhere you could reach softly sucking each of her nipples before continuing down. Lifting her legs you finally reach her apex slick leaking out of her. You dont waste another second there was nothing better than an omegas slick, eating her out desperately you lick up every ounce of juice you can get. Something was sweeter about Natasha, her slick like candy and you'd always had a sweet tooth. Natasha moaned loudly, no alpha has ever gone down on her before and the sensation running through her caused goosebumps to appear on her body.

"(Y/N)."

Your name slipped from her lips in a mixture of disbelief and pleasure. Her hands gripped the sheets, back arching off the bed, knots tying in her stomach. Oh my god. Natasha thought as she looked down at you meeting your predatory gaze. Oh my god. You slurped, sucked, and lightly nibbled at every piece of Natasha slowly building her up until finally penetrating her with your tongue. Natasha visibly jumped before rolling her hips roughly. Oh my god.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming alpha."

Another second was all it took before her eyes rolled to the back of her head body spasming with pleasure she'd never felt before. For only a mere moment her heat tampered down, catching her breath as you climb back up her body.

"Mmmm there we go omega, that won't be the last time you cum for me."

Your voice is deep as you lean into her neck taking a deep breath of her scent gland and Natasha's arms wrap around you needing you closer.

"Alpha please, please, I need more."

You hum again your own sympathy rut making your erection painful. Pulling off your shorts and boxers you spring out slapping against Natasha's stomach. The feeling of your length is enough to make Natasha eyes dialate even more you were thick and long bigger than any alpha she's taken before. Whimpers escape her, you're taking to long, grinding up against you she feels your shuddering breath against her neck. Leaning back on your knees you pump your cock giving Natasha her first view of your member and she nerely drools. Pumping yourself a few times before rubbing against Natasha you look into the eyes of the omega below you.

"Do you want this omega?"

"Yes, YES! I need you alpha."

Loosing your focus you let your pheromones go your scent surrounding Natasha and overtaking her nest making her go feral. You slip in slowly, too slowly for Natasha the stretch was a wonderful burn and the full feeling she needed. She felt doused in her heats fire. You pumped into her gently giving her time to adjust another action unlike any other alpha who only cared about thier own pleasure. Bending back down over the omega you tuck your arms close to Natasha your right hand holding the back of Natasha's neck, sticking your nose back against Natasha's scent gland you shudder taking in the omegas intoxicating scent. Natasha'sm arms wrap back around you the hold you have on her highly intimate keepings your bodies impossibly close which you knew an omega craved. Pumping into her you penetrate her hard and deep. High pitched noises leaking from Natasha's mouth.

"So good alpha, you feel so good."

Releasing a light growl you open your mouth careful of your canines you bite Natasha's scent gland without breaking the skin. In an instant Natasha spasms beneath you an orgasm having been ripped out of her.

"Alpha.... alpha."

Natasha cried the pleasure she felt almost overwhelming. Letting go of her neck you lift to meet her in a sloppy passionate kiss. Your hips never faulter keeping their bruising pace pounding into her. Your hand on the back of her throat felt possessive your free hand grabbing her leg to raise it to your shoulder. Now wide open your thrust hit Natasha at a different angle and the red head releases high pitched whines into your mouth unable to maintain the kiss.

"Alpha, please alpha."

Natasha wasn't even sure what she was asking for anymore eyes rolling as another orgasm takes over her body.

"Just like that omega. You like that don't you, like how your alpha takes care of you."

Natasha can only whimper your words causing another wave of slick, her head nodding in response. Bending towards her scent gland you lightly bite again. Another rapid orgasm taking over the red head. Growling into the bite your grip tightens on the woman pace becoming a bit faster and rougher. After a few thrust Natasha feels your knot begin to slam at her entrance and she almost cries.

"Yes alpha knot me, fill me up."

You growl again slamming against the red head faster, Natasha's eyes roll as she cums for what must be the sixth time but before she can be breached you pull out releasing your white ooze onto the omegs stomach. Natasha whimpers repeatedly, your knot wasted, having been the last thing she needed to feel whole. You let go of her neck releasing relaxing pheromones while you pepper her face is kisses.

"Relax omega, relax."

You hum into her skin until you feel the womans rapid heartbeat calmdown. As her adrenaline stops Natasha feels satisfied for the first time ever, her heat subsiding enough for her to relax. You lean away from her grabbing a water from the case and Natasha releases a distressed sound at the distance.

"Shhhh omega. Drink this, you need to stay hydrated."

The woman grabs the bottle downing it quickly if only to have you close again.

"Good omega now rest, you'll need it."

You return to your previous position pressed up against the omega listening to her heartbeat until you're sure she is asleep. Rolling next to the omega you take breaths of your own, your rut having been left unfulfilled since you hadn't knotted the woman. Even though your knot subsided your hard on continued to rage. Relaxing as much as you can you lay on your back closing your eyes, you needed rest as well. For the first time in her life she came out of her heat two days later feeling satisfied rather than her usual seven days of misery. Laying in her nest which still smelled strongly of your scent she couldn't stop the smile that rested on her face. You'd been a good alpha taking care of her every need keeping her fed and hydrated suddenly Natasha felt a longing. Wanting a bond, wanting to truly mate with you. It isn't till the next day that her happy bubble pops, whispers of other omega sheild agents making her remember why she went for you in the firzt place. Not only had you gone way past her expectations but now the way these woman spoke about you made her blood boil. Overwhelming her with the want to attack the woman talking about her alpha. Natasha once again sticks to you like glue after her heat bristling and sending glares at any omega who even thinks to look your way. At first you think nothing of it Natasha was your partner, you'd been working together for over a year now but a week later when you hear her little growl at Maria when she approaches you about paperwork you put together the signs of her overly possessive behavior. You aren't quite sure what you want to do, you don't want to possibly mess up the close bond you two share but at the same time you are an unmated alpha the after effects of her heat should of faded days ago. Thinking back to Natasha's heat your mouth begins to water, the omega was candy. The sweetest nectar you'd ever had and helping her through her heat you were more attentive than you've been with any omega thus far. You can see Natasha being a good omega not just a good omega but your omega, you want to care for her protect her claim her. But at the same time you aren't sure you're ready to mate aren't sure you'd be the alpha any omega deserved. You ponder on this for days but by the end of it, it seems you don't need to make a decision. Natasha seems to distance herself from you, her overly possessive behavior abandoned in favor of space. Space you assumed she needed so you didn't comment on it at first no matter how much your alpha yearned for the omega to be near. Now near a month later you know the red heads heat should be approaching any day now. Staring at her across the room during one of Tony's over the top parties you can't help the low growl that starts while you watch her closely hover around Steve. He was an alpha you disdained, having heard enough from omegas in the compound for a lifetime of disappointment. He believes himself somewhat a god, treating the omegas around him like objects rather than people and the thought of him rutting with Natasha during her heat made your Alpha flash with rage. All it takes is a second. Steve wraps his arm around Natasha's waist and you're on your feet quickly cutting across the crowd to get to their location. You try to reign in your growl but it seems futile the closer you get to the pair. Natasha looks your way first, her omega senses alert to the sound and smell of angry alphas. The look on your face says you're ready for a fight chest rising and falling rapidly and she hates the way her omega responds breaking from Steves tight grip to address your distress. She tried to distance herself from you, determined not to become a fangirl like the rest but she was to close to her heat, to intune with her primal instincts to be away. You stop when you see Natasha approach allowing her to enter your space eyes never leaving her form.

"(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

You hesitate not sure what to say, not sure if you should say anything. Then you smell her, early stages of heat making her scent even sweeter and lean into her space.

"Omega."

You whisper in her ear and fight back the smirk at the whimper you get in response. You wrap your arm around Natasha's waist taking the place Steve once held before guiding her towards the doors. Natasha allows herself to be guided, your touch burning her skin your scent igniting something inside her. Once outside the venue in the cold night air Natasha feels some relief your heat not all encompassing. You lead Natasha to your car opening the passenger door for her before climbing in the drivers side youself. Your leg bounces impatiently as you start the vehicle the mere ten minute drive to the compound seeming to long in your mind.

"Since your last heat I crave you omega."

You pause if only to gauge Natasha's reaction peaking at her out the side of your eye you catch her surprised expression and decide to continue.

"I crave your pressence, I crave your scent, I gave you the space I thought you needed. I thought I needed, but tonight seeing you with another alpha I almost lost it."

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel just thinking about the way Steve touched the omega, your omega. Natasha remains silent unsure of what to say or what to do and you respond in kind holding your tongue until you pull into the parking garage of the compound. You put the car in park sitting for a moment in the silence before speaking again softly.

"The truth is Natasha, I want to mark you make you mine if you'd have me. You don't have to respond today, don't have to respond at all. I'm still not sure I'm the alpha you want or the alpha any omega deserves but I know I want to be your alpha."

With that you open your door exiting the car. Walking to Natasha's side you open her door for her closing it behind her once she exits the car.

"Just think it over."

With that you walk away entering the compound without another word and the red head remains too stunned to speak. You, (Y/N), the infamous alpha just propositioned to mate Natasha. You asked to mate her, since when do alphas ask but thinking on it Natasha realizes you've always asked. Asked to help her with her heat, asked to enter her nest, even asked her repeatedly how she was doing during her heat. In three short days you'd cared for her more than any alpha ever had maybe thats why she felt so possessive over you after. Maybe thats why she got excited everytime she caught your scent or perked up everytime you showed her attention. But maybe it wasn't, maybe Natasha wanted you just like you wanted her. The red head never even considered mating, her experiences with alphas proving that it would only hurt her and hold her back but with you the possibilities were endless. Despite being the alpha you'd always given her control giving her the opportunity to say no at any point. The next morning telltale signs of Natasha's heat overwhelmed her senses she'd be fully succumbed by nightfal for sure and even after a good nights sleep her thoughts couldn't help but flood to you. Alpha. Hopping up Natasha dresses rapidly eager to be in your pressence. Exiting her room she moves quick before another alpha catches wind of her. Natasha surprises herself by how fast she arrives outside your door, knocking six times rapidly she cluches herself goosebumps running over her skin despite heating up.

"Mmmh well well well what do we have here."

Steve's voice cuts through Natasha like a knife.

"Where'd you go last night omega? I thought we'd have a little fun."

His eyes are predatory, evil and Natasha isn't sure if in her state she has the strength to fight the alpha off.

"No Steve."

The alphas nostrils flare taking the direct rejection as a challenge.

"Who are you to tell me no omega bitch?"

He growls and Natasha growls back. Steve grabs Natasha's wrist harshly tugging her into his space but before he could do more you appear pouncing on him like a feral animal. Your growl shakes Natasha with its intensity as you throw blow after blow at the man you tackled.

"You little alpha piece of shit, it's dumbasses like you that give alphas a bad name."

You hit him across the face repeatedly your pent up frustations taken out on him one by one. You loose yourself in your anger, he touched your omega how dare he. It isn't until Natasha is trying to pull you back screaming at you to stop that you see the true damage you've done to your fellow super soilder your knuckles covered in his blood. Standing you spit on him before kicking him one last time.

"Touch my omega again and I'll kill you."

You say deathly low before pulling the distressed omega through your door locking it securely behind you. You immediately begin to scan her, eyes and hands running over her body to confirm her safety and once you're satisfied you let out a verbal sigh of relief. You pull Natasha into you holding her close and breathing in her scent.

"I"m sorry. I stepped out to grab a snack I should of been here. Did he hurt you?"

Tears appear in Natasha's eyes, at the way you'd fiercely protected her. At the way you'd cared for her and Natasha knows with certainty she wants you.

"No."

Natasha whispers and it doesn't seems to be enough pulling back you scan her again double checking her for any signs of foul play.

"I'm sorry for verbally claiming you, my instincts took over and I had to protect you."

Natasha fights back her tears as she looks at your concerned face.

"Don't apologize alpha, I want you. Claim me. Make me yours."

Your eyes shoot to the green ones infornt of you. Her easily ignored heat due to your adrenaline now burning your nostrils.

"Are you sure? This isn't just the heat talking is it?"

Natasha laughs happy tears finally falling which she quickly wipes away.

"Yes alpha, I'm sure."

You surge foreward meeting her lips in a passionate kiss and lifting her in your arms. You take her to your bed never breaking the kiss overwhelmed with a need to be attached to the omega laying her lightly you break away from her lips only to travel down to her neck. Hesitating at her scent gland you take a deep breath before pulling back the omega below you whines but you ignore it urging her attention elsewhere.

"I wasn't sure you would come but just in case I stacked blankets, clothes, and pillows here so that you may nest."

Natasha's eye buldge before shooting to the pile you gestured at.

"I noticed you nesting at the beginning of your last heat and I want you to be comfortable. I tried to keep my scent to a bare minimum as not to overwhelm you."

You pull away completely allowing Natasha to turn over and crawl towards the pile, watching her take in all the fabrics and items.

"Nest omega, I want you to be comfortable."

Natasha turns to you again lifting on her knees before pulling you into a tight embrace that you return before she turns and gets to work you merely stand by and watch enjoying the attention Natasha gives to every little detail of her nest. Your eyes wonder to your hands and you quickly step towards the bathroom washing off the evidence of Steve beating. It only takes five minutes and you are surprised by the speed at which she works but don't deny her needy whines when she lays to stare at you.

"May I enter your nest?"

"Of course alpha."

You crawl back over the omega giving her a sweet kiss before pulling her shirt above her head glad yet unsurprised to find nothing underneath. Throwing the shirt towards the edge of the nest so it can have her scent you move your lips to her chest.

"My beautiful omega."

You whisper against her skin before you trail love bites down. Corrupting her perfect milky skin with your dark purple marks. You suck on both of her nipples getting them rock hard before continuing down. Your eyes get darker with every claiming mark you leave and as you get to her lower stomach your fingers hook her shorts swiftly pulling them down. Your mouth begins to water as her shorts are discarded elsewhere. Pushing her knees to her chest you come eye to eye with the feast of her slick.

"You smell so good omega."

Natasha whines in response hips wiggling in your hold. Without hesitation you begin your meal, lapping up her slick like a dehydrated dog. Her sweet nectar addicting and you can't get enough. You slurp and suck at her bud cause loud moans to fall from the red head.

"Feels so good alpha."

Natasha moans back arching of the bed. You growl against her center tongue entering her in search of more of her juices and Natasha releases a high pitch squeal. Hips bucking in time with your tongue before she spasms and you're rewarded with her orgasm straight in your mouth.

"You taste so good omega."

You growl against her, lips trailing to the back of her thighs leaving dark purple to match her abdomen.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before moving up to meet her lips in a sloppy kiss. Natasha meets you with equal passion arms wrapping tightly around you holding you close.

"I need you alpha, it hurts."

You lift to your knees in response quickly pulling your shirt over your head and taking off your bra before removing your shorts and boxers. You spring out releasing a small sigh of relief as you being to pump yourself.

"Fill me up alpha, claim me."

Natasha whispers and you possessivly growl. Rubbing your cock through her slick you use her juices as lubricant before slowly slipping in. Natasha moans at your intrusion the wonderful strech making her feel whole. You enter her space pressing your chest against her you hold her tightly one arm tucking under her back the other tucking behind her neck hand holding the back of her neck your lips meet hers. Natasha holds you back tightly bodies molded together as you begin to pump into her roughly. High pitched whines enter your mouth as you kiss Natasha, devouring her mouth until its clear she needs air.

"My beautiful omega. Mine. Mine. Mine."

You whisper against her lips burying yourself as deeply as you can before pulling out again.

"Yours alpha, yours."

Natasha whines before spasming as she orgasms. You tuck your head into her scent gland taking deep breaths of the omegas scent. Natasha does the same your scent surrounding her, your body pressed against her, you planted deep inside her. The red head feels like she's going crazy. Her skin buzzes as her fingers run into your hair holding your head closer to her neck. She's on fire yet she needs more, she needs more of you.

"Mark me alpha. I'm yours, make me yours."

You open your mouth trailing your teeth against Natasha skin causing electricity to run through the omega.

"Mine."

You growl against her skin before sinking your canines into her scent gland. Natasha's eyes roll into the back of her head, an unbelievable orgasm washing over her body. The pleasure is intense orgasm stretching on for what feels like years. Her slick leaks out of her in waves as you pound her and her nails dig into your back. By the time Natasha comes down from the high she's drunk on you. A blabbering mess of noises.

"Alpha. Alpha."

Natasha whimpers over and over again and you finally release her neck licking at the mark.

"Omega, my omega."

You pump into her wildly riding on the high of your mating mark. Natasha clenches around you again another orgasm washing over her as your knot begins to slam at her entrance.

"My personal cum dump, you're gonna take it aren't you omega? Take my knot and get filled with my seed. Swollen with my pups only mine."

Moans escapse Natasha at your words nails digg8ng into your skin.

"Yes alpha, fill me up. I need it, I need your pups inside me."

You pump into her faster your own moans escaping at her words using her for your own pleasure.

"Fuck. Yeah take it omega. You feel so good I could pump into you all day. Fuck squeezing me for all I'm worth."

Your hips begin to stutter as your lips return to hers in a loving kiss, arms wrapping around her tighter your bodies are pressed together as closely as they can be. You continue to work your knot against her entrance feeling how her slick pours out to accommodate you. Breaking the kiss you return to her scent gland teeth sinking into her once more as you knot slips in. Natasha's eyes roll back at the combined feeling of your bite, your warm load seeping into her, and your knot the pleasure so good she nearly passes out. Releasing her neck you lick the wound again before placing light kisses on it.

"Mine."

"Yours."

You hum in satisfaction.

"Bite me omega, mark me as yours."

Tears threaten Natasha's eyes again at your words, rare was the alpha who wore an omegas mark. Many refusing to allow themselves to be publicly tied to one omega and with your words Natasha is once again reassured she chose the right alpha. The red head sinks her canines into your scent gland a light growl releasing from her as she does and is satisfied when she feels another hot spurt of your cum shoot into her.

"Mine."

Natasha whispers against your skin as she licks at the bite.

"Yours."

You whisper back allowing yourself to relax ontop of Natasha baring your whole body weight against her. Three days later by the end of Natasha's heat you feel maybe a bit overly possessive of the female. You haven't left your room since Steve threatened your omega and as the time to break your mating bubble nears you find yourself wanting to be near the omega at all times. Laying in her nest you snuggle into the omegas body, front pressed against her back arm wrapped around her waist. You nuzzle her neck enjoying the way her scent is now mixed with yours and can't help the light possessive growl that rumbles at the back of your throat.

"My beautiful omega."

The omega coos back at you and you release a relaxed sigh.

"We should get you cleaned up and fed."

You say as you begrudgingly sit up causing the omega below you to whine. She rolls over wrapping her arms around you.

"Do we have to?"

You laugh lightly running your fingers through red tresses.

"Yes, you haven't had a proper meal in three days." You shuffle around finding Natasha clothes and handing them to her. Throwing on your old clothes you grab some clean ones as well before walking to your door.

"Come on we'll shower in your room."

The omega nods and stretches before walking towards you. Opening the door you both quietly walk down the hallway enjoying the fresh air. The walk to the omegas room is quiet but peaceful, she stays close to your side the small distance between you two after such a passionate heat seeming like to much. In Natasha's room the two of you shower together, you make love to her one more time in the shower soft and slow before you truly have to return to the reality of the real world.

"I will always protect you omega, you're safe with me."

You hum into her neck as she rides the after shocks of her orgasm.

"My alpha."

The hums back fingers running softly against the back of your neck.

"My omega."

#bottom natasha #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #omega natasha #abo #omegaverse #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonoff x y/n #bagdaddyb

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punksocks · 1 year ago

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Astrology observations No.16: Lilith Edition

*just based on my experiences please take them with a grain of salt

**the taming your Lilith femininity post can be found here fyi ;0

-The element of your Lilith could point to what people find so scandalous about you. Air: your otherworldly air and intelligence; Water: your sensuality and emotional expression; Earth: Your strength and grounded nature; Fire: Your fierce energy and how you’re too hot to handle

-if Lilith has aspects to your Venus (especially conjunct/opposition/square) you may have guys say they don’t usually date girls like you/of your cultural background (twice as likely if your Venus or Lilith is in Sagittarius) (also that gives me the ick instantly ngl)

-Lilith conjunct/opposition/square 1st/7th/8th/10th could point to being hit on in the weirdest ways ever. (Guys have yelled at me from car windows, or been in my dms for actual years, at a convention a guy was pushing a stroller and said there goes my wife so loudly and so close to my face I didn’t even catch it until a moment after. I mean the other day a dude called my hair pretty then asked if it was heavy- like huh?? Dudes are weird)

-Lilith aspects to mars (especially conjunct/opposition/square) could point to people shaming you for expressing frustration/anger, especially in your youth

-I’ve had soooo many dudes short circuit on me with our Lilith synastry omg. I have stories lol. A lot of guys being into me and running off then coming back (they don’t get to come back in tho! Gross) I’ve felt it the most with Lilith conjunct sun synastry, underdeveloped guys have been competitive and obsessive. Like belittling in an envious way but also trying to make me feel smaller to always keep me around because they were too into my energy (it didn’t work). It can work out with a partner that is self aware and respectful and turn into the sun person showing you a side of themselves that they don’t show anyone else. It just takes a minutes to weed it out lol.

-I would imagine that Lilith conjunct/opposition/square Moon and Venus would be even more of a whirlwind. Lilith would be bringing out the Moon native’s hidden emotions and taboo emotional motivations (it’s giving the guy in Hustlers that came in to guilt his girlfriend into coming home for the night from her job at the strip club, but like that manipulative and petty all the time). And Lilith would bring out hidden and taboo desires in the Venus native (secret girlfriend, can’t meet their friends or family just “because it’s not the right time”- but it’s never the right time, you thought you were dating but it turns out you were the other woman, etc)

-Also Lilith conjunct/opposition/square someone else’s ascendant is very likely to make the other person act jealous and petty towards you

-Lilith in 12th could point to being a lot of people’s secret fantasies, hidden people that deeply desire you or envy you

-A lot of prominent Lilith placements are prone to fertility issues but I’d assume this is even more likely for Lilith in 6th

-Lilith in 7th could date partners that try to change them as soon as they get into a relationship with them (censor how you dress, dictate your hair cut, just really get terribly controlling because they assume your “theirs”) (I’ve also experienced this with Lilith in 10th, and I would guess the same for Lilith in 1st/aspects to 1st or 10th or 7th)

-Lilith in 8th could point to s*xual trauma and at the very least going through many transformations before coming into your own sexuality

-Lilith in 9th could point to blossoming into yourself abroad or in a country outside of your origin. It can also point to receiving a lot of s*xual attention outside of your cultural group.

-Lilith in 1st/10th/11th could point to difficulty and backstabbing in female friendships. In 6th & 10th this could carry over to workplaces. In 7th this points to being the other woman in relationships or women coming onto your partner

-Lilith in 3rd could point to having trouble in school, not only socially but with authority figures believing your intelligence (and the believing your intelligence part definitely carries over into adulthood)

-Lilith in 4th often points to a terribly frustrating childhood where you were constantly critiqued by female members of your family, especially your mother. You could’ve felt like your mother/aunts/etc were always trying to compete with you for male attention as well (which is weird, weird grown folks). (it’s not great for Lilith in 1st/8th/10th either but this is on another level)

-Lilith in 10th (square/opposition to 10th as well) can point to being treated like a pariah for no reason at work. I’ve found that when I tried to be friendly I got a lot of kindness outside of my department …but still thrown under the bus with a smile in my department. Then I kept my distance at a later day job and was met with hostile or belittling energy. (This one guy would just constantly walk by and look at my laptop and ask what I was working on when he wasn’t my manager and my manager hadn’t assigned me anything, then he would just chat me up for no reason, always switching between hostile and like almost flirtatious energy. like dude worked on the other side of the office and kept doing this until he left ! Never working in an office again I swear…)

-Also Lilith in 1st/10th- often men in power/positions off authority often dote on you for some reason, especially if they’re older (I still can’t figure why this is though)

-Lilith negative (conjunct/square/opposition) aspects to 1st/10th In “normal” (suburban neighborhoods and pedestrian places like that) you may find that you get this weird thirsty look from guys, who are supposed to be minding their business with their families, like you’re walking around naked when you could be wearing the most lowkey outfit and it wouldn’t make a difference (it’s also why I prefer cities, but even then in some neighborhoods I stick out)

-Your Lilith sign itself always indicates the Lilith behavior you have to learn to “tame” (ex. leo in Lilith has to make sure they’re not too much of a diva), but I also believe it shows you how you need to fight for others (ex. leo in Lilith- use your radiant nature to speak out on the taboo and spotlight helping social causes)- I can do a post elaborating on this if you guys want ;0

-Self awareness is really important with strong Lilith energy. I’ve had overlays with other women/femmes with strong Lilith placements and so many times I’ve had them become mean girls and envious to me even though they’d constantly tell me about their Lilith-esque experiences with other femmes bullying them in similar ways.

#astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #lilith astrology #lilith aspects #lilith square ascendant #astrology #astroloji

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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That means that for a work to be eligible for copyright in the USA, it must satisfy three criteria:

1. It must be creative. Copyright does not apply to non-creative works (say, a phone book listing everyone in a town in alphabetical order), even if the work required a lot of labor. Copyright does not protect effort, it protects creativity. You can spend your whole life making a phone book and get no copyright, but the haiku you toss off in ten seconds while drunk gets copyright’s full protection. 2. It must be tangible. Copyright only applies to creative works that are “fixed in a tangible medium.” A dance isn’t copyrightable, but a video of someone dancing is, as is a written description of the dance in choreographers’ notation. A singer can’t copyright the act of singing, but they can copyright the recording of the song. 3. It must be of human authorship. Only humans are eligible for copyright. A beehive’s combs may be beautiful, but they can’t be copyrighted. An elephant’s paintings may be creative, but they can’t be copyrighted. A monkey’s selfie may be iconic, but it can’t be copyrighted.

The works an algorithm generates —be they still images, audio recordings, text, or videos — cannot be copyrighted.

For creative workers, this is huge. Our bosses, like all bosses, relish the thought of firing us all and making us homeless. You will never love anything as much as your boss hates paying you. That’s why the most rampant form of theft in America is wage theft. Just the thought of firing workers and replacing them with chatbots is enough to invoke dangerous, persistent priapism in the boardrooms of corporate America.

- Everything Made By an AI Is In the Public Domain: The US Copyright Office offers creative workers a powerful labor protective

THIS IS THE LAST DAY FOR MY KICKSTARTER for the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

Going to Burning Man? Catch me on Tuesday at 2:40pm on the Center Camp Stage for a talk about enshittification and how to reverse it; on Wednesday at noon, I'm hosting Dr Patrick Ball at Liminal Labs (6:15/F) for a talk on using statistics to prove high-level culpability in the recruitment of child soldiers.

On September 6 at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

#labor #copyright #public domain #ai #creative workers #hype #criti-hype #enshittification #llcs with mfas #solidarity #collective power

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months ago

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book 5 part 6 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 6 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

If you’d like to watch a rough part-by-part summarized translation, please check out this archived stream!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Ew, we're starting off with another map segment... TWST REALLY WANTS TO TIMEGATE OUR TEARS, HUH

Yuu and gang are going to follow the night fae soldiers to Black Scale Castle beyond the mountains. They can't stay too far from the owner of the dream, Lilia! (If you'll remember, they're now taking Tamago-sama there for safety while Meleanor stays behind to fight the Silver Owls.)

Silver hasn't seen Sebek use his UM??? Sebek tells us he learned his UM when Silver got into NRC and Sebek was training by himself. He wanted to be able to rush to Malleus's side at a moment's notice. He knows it is able to turn his own body into lightning and then can use it to move and to attack. However, the spell will damage his body while using it since he has yet to reach mastery. Sebek can't use his magic to rush to Lilia and the others because he wouldn't be able to fight by the time he does.

... ISN'T HIS UM SIMILAR TO ROLLO'S.... JUST TRADE FIRE FOR LIGHTNING...

AW, SEBEK WASN'T PLANNING ON USING HIS SPELL UNTIL HE MASTERED IT... BUT HE STILL USED IT TO SAVE SILVER 😭

Oh, they finally asked the question we were all having. If Malleus made this dream with the intention of it being a happy ending, then why do only sad things happen in Lilia's dream??? Also, why did OB Malleus not come after them yet or kick them out of the dream??? Maybe there's a reason why Malleus can't supervise or enter Lilia's dream??

BAUL LEFT THEM MAGIC TO GUIDE THEM THE RIGHT WAY... HE TRUSTS US TO HELP THEM NOW

Baul fights with an axe. IS HE ABOUT TO HAND IT OVER TO SEBEK (Sebek seems to be holding one in his limited time card)????

Lilia "I won't forgive you if you die!" Vanrouge.

Not both grandpa and grandson volunteering to stay behind to fight and then catch up later... Sebek tells Silver to go ahead and protect Lilia, "You go and protect what is most precious to you. I'm going to protect what is precious to me," (Sebek about Baul) 😭 The night fae are so confused why a human would willingly help them... THI S IS SEBEK'S CHARACTER ARC

SEBEK PROVES HIMSELF A CAPABLE FIGHTER TO HIS GRANDPA!! His hair gets all messy like what's shown in his new SSR. It's raining as well (like in the card art), so this is likely the context for the illustration. The groovy artwork is of Sebek being knighted!!!

adgkuvaodv8yfefvyyeft8wen Sebek makes a big speech about wanting to be their strength!! BAUL ACKNOWLEDGES SEBEK BY NAME INSTEAD OF "HUMAN" AND GRANTS HIM A SOLDIER'S UNIFORM, SEBEK'S BEING OFFICIALLY KNIGHTED FOR THE BRIAR COUNTRY'S IMPERIAL GUARD AND GIVEN A NEW WEAPON... BAUL EVEN GIVES SEBEK HIS OWN CROCODILE MASK

Zigvolt family lore!! Baul doesn't get along with his human son-in-law, but never distanced himself from his grandchildren. When Baul's only daughter wanted to marry a human, they argued so much about it. To this day, he still doesn't particularly care for humans. Even so, Baul's house has a lot of storybooks and candy prepared for his mixed grandchildren. He won't open them warmly, but it's clear he loves his family.

Silver saves Lilia!! And then Lilia asks Silver to take the egg to Black Scale Castle in his place. There are too many human soldiers on their trail, and Lilia cannot fight them while holding the egg (plus he's already injured from previously protecting Silver at the easternmost fortress).

Yuu has to hold Tamago-sama...

Silver proceeds to carry Lilia like a baby in spite of Lilia saying he'd stay behind and distract the Silver Owls 🤡 NOT SILVER USING LILIA'S OWN TEACHINGS TO TELL DREAM!LILIA THEY STILL HAVE TO TRY AND SURVIVE

The mountains are called the "Forbidden Mountains" and it is said that this is where Maleficent once lived. If you are not blessed by the dragons, the lightning (according to legend) will strike you down. Beyond the mountain is Briar Country's capital city and Black Scale Castle.

Surprisingly, Silver suggests an ambush method (hide and strike at soldiers from behind when they've let their guard down). I guess NRC really did teach him how to be backhanded after all/j

Silver says maybe Malleus can't follow them since he wasn't born yet in Lilia's dream. Magic relies on imagination, and since Malleus cannot imagine what life was like before he was born... that's probably why he can't monitor these circumstances.

Would you look at that 💀 The first real time the story acknowledges that Yuu is in bodily danger; Silver Owls shoot arrows at Yuu because they're holding the egg. Grimmu protects us!! Baby... Best buddy...

SEBEK ARRIVING TO SAVE SILVER (aksldnbaksdbaydasl lol at Sebek being smug about his knighting and trying to act cool even though the lightning is definitely still hurting him...)

Silver Owls retreat!

Oh wow, so they see creeping black thorns similar to when Malleus OB'd; everyone suspects that maybe Meleanor Overblotted too.

Silver mentions that he lives near the Forbidden Mountains but has never climbed them before. The rocks there are very sharp and dangerously jut out. AW, Lilia gives Silver and Yuu his cloak to protect them from the rain and cold. Lilia says the mountain range is full of magic, so its restorative to fae, who draw power from nature.

The way they came from was sealed off by rocks... but Lilia fully intends to go back and help Meleanor...

THEY MADE IT TO THE CASTLE!! It's called Maleficia's castle; we have an official English spelling for Granny Draconia's name. Something, something, Lilia wants to prepare something called the "Cradle Tower".

WE CUT BACK TO WILD ROSE CASTLE

Like father, like son... The Dawn Knight seems remorseful and wonders where they went wrong, if everyone could have been friends if they had chosen some other way. He wants to dream of a world where all races can live together in peace. "One day, it won't be just a dream, it will be reality." It's phrased very similarly to the wish Lilia made in Wish Upon a Star!

The stormy weather clears up and the dawn makes way... IT'S A SIGN THAT THE DAWN KNIGHT PREVAILED AND MELEANOA'S MAGIC HAS DISAPPEARED... Lilia just lets out the most guttural cries... He says if he were stronger, he would have taken Meleanoa with him against her will, HE WASN'T ABLE TO KEEP HIS PROMISE TO PROTECT MELEANOR FOR HIM

I still want to see Mallemom's on-screen death though.

Side note: they force us to play through a scripted loss battle between the Dawn Knight and Meleanor 💀 Sick fucks on the dev team…

This is delicious content :)))))))) We're eatin' well, boiz

Uhhh okay so there are greenish spirits floating around; they're the senate??? Apparently they've already died but their spirits linger and serve as advisors.

… Idk why doesn’t Mallemom do this too???

NAUR, NOT THE SENATE BLAMING AND SHAMING LILIA, SAYING HE RAN AWAY AND LEFT HER TO DIE IN BATTLE... THEY CALL LILIA A MUTT AND BAT, JUST A DIRTY ORPHAN WHO CAN’T BE TRUSTED… AND THAT HE ISN'T FIT TO SERVE, THAT HE'S USELESS (this must really sting seeing as Lilia has insecurities about not being wanted 😭)

Baul defends Lilia's honor but Lilia still resigns from the Imperial Guard. HE'S TELLING THE SENATE T HEY CAN PUNISH HIM SO THEY FORBID HIM FROM STEPPING INTO THE CAPITAL AGAIN

The senate uses magic to take the egg away from Lilia AND LILIA SAYS GOODBYE TO MALLEUS BY NAME

"I'm not an Imperial Guard anymore, I don't need to follow orders" — Lilia (when Baul tells Lilia he still has a duty to hatch the egg). LILIA HAS GIVEN UP and that seems to have summoned the darkness of the dream to them. Lilia thinks Meleanor and/or Levan are in the darkness so he wants to "go there too".

When a general retires, they are gifted a lavish home near Black Scale Castle. Sebek says it now makes sense why Lilia lived humbly in a forest cottage far away from the capital. Silver says it must be why Lilia dislikes the atmosphere of the capital and why he never took Silver there.

In a flashforward, Lilia is asked to come back 10 years later. At this point, Tamago-sama has developed more sentience and is actively rejecting the love magic from everyone, even his grandmother. He has only been receiving magic for the first 5ish years or so. Maleficia had Baul act as a messenger to bring Lilia back for a special mission BECAUSE OTHERWISE MALLEUS WILL DIE WITHOUT IT.

Malleus’s egg is being kept in Cradle Tower! It keeps the egg safe and essential incubates it for the royal family.

Land of Briar becomes Briar Valley? The queen cannot always be with the egg because Briar Valley and its surrounding are lands are left in chaos after the war. Briar Valley fae specifically are not allowed in human territories.

Lilia is sent off on to find a way to fix the situation. He says he will see where dragons live in other continents and research. Omg, this must be how he started his travels and learned more about other races and their cultures 😭

“Don’t you dare die, Malleus” — Lilia (AND THE LOVING DEATH THREAT ACTUALLY MAKES THE EGG GLOW)

We see some of Lilia’s travels AND HE WAS IN THE CITY OF FLOWERS ON TOPSY TURVY DAY... The people there were friendly at first and worrying for his health until they realize he's a fairy, then they chase him out.

During one of his routine reports, Lilia is convinced by Baul to speak with Malleus's egg (which now glows green sometimes). Lilia shares stories of his travels with Malleus, trying to keep it positive for the baby to not make Malleus sad.

NEXT LILIA TRAVELED TO THE SCALDING SANDS, A MERCHANT IS ASKING IF HE WANTS TO BUY A MAGIC LAMP... Lilia learns about the importance of souvenirs as keepsakes from that merchant.

Okay, so it looks like between travels we're getting scenes of Lilia reporting back and telling Malleus about the place he most recently visited. He says that the Scalding Sands used to be such a small civilization but has since grown into a sprawling city. It's amazing what kind of progress humans can make.

Malleus is fussy and some days accepts magic, and other days he doesn't. Meleanor was also a really picky eater. Levan carries himself like an honors student but was the type to hide his veggies.

AW, HE SINGS MELEANOR'S LULLABY TO MALLEUS

Next Lilia visits some ruins...? It looks like a background from the Spectral Realm seen in Endless Halloween Night. Lilia says no one lives here, there is only furniture. No ghosts are mentioned though! He uses his UM for the first time here. Far Cry Cradle is probably going to be very useful for investigating ways to hatch a dragon's egg!

Lilia tells Malleus to come out of the egg, it must be boring just sleeping. He offers to read stories and change his diaper, tells Malleus his dad wants to meet him. Oh, and of course Lilia shares about his UM too! He tells Malleus that he went to the Land of Crimson Long.

Lilia ventures to Harveston!! An old man mistakes Lilia for a kid and takes him in, showing him warmth and kindness. He says he'll leave soon, but the old man and an old woman say he should stay until spring because the weather is harsh.

The lady notices Lilia is fae (but since time has passed, relations between fae and humans have improved a bit). No one is afraid of him here!! They apologize for mistaking him as a kid and want to share stories.

(Not confirmed but it could be interesting if these were Epel’s ancestors Lilia met… Rollo’s ancestors can be the ones running Lilia out of the City of Flowers www)

ABSHDBYOAFVYFAIAEUQRQEOUBFQ LILIA IS 430 AT THIS POINT BUT THAT NUMBER IS SO CLOSE TO 420 IT MAKES ME LAUGH

His feelings are changing... At 450 years old, Lilia tells Malleus that the world has changed so much and he has had the chance to visit many places. ahbyoaybadadB APPARENTLY PEOPLE USED TO THROW STONES AND ROCKS AT HIM.

Lilia says that fae may become things of the past, just creatures of fairy tales. But he doesn't want Malleus to be the main character of a fairy tale, forgotten by time. He wants Malleus to be able to see the world his parents weren’t able to see for themselves 😔

Another time skip, and it's come to a point where the egg is in critical condition. For 3 whole months it has been rejecting Maleficia's magic. The egg has since erected a lightning barrier to protect itself, even though its own heartbeat is growing weaker and weaker. (Malleus throwing another tantrum lol)

Lilia heard weird sounds but no one else could??? Is that a baby crying???? He tries to approach, but almost gets struck down many times.

Lilia realizes Malleus is crying because he's lonely. "Wait for me. I'm coming to you right now!" He gets hit by lightning, but perserves!

Lilia says he will offer his magic, even his lifespan (many fan theorists squealed now that this is confirmed), to Malleus if he needs it, and finally embraces the egg. (Physical contact like holding the egg is said to encourage magic absorption.)

TAMAGO-SAMA??????? 😭 HE SOUNDS LIKE A POKEMON… and he’s already blowing fire even though he’s freshly hatched???

WTF THOUGH BABY MALLEUS IS 1000000000000000000000x CUTER THAN GROWN UP MALLEUS 🫶 (I don’t like modern day Malleus’s looks at all www)

Silver understands why the dream is how it is, because it was all worth it for Lilia to finally meet Malleus. The moment of hatching has to be the happiest moment in Lilia’s life.

The senate shows up and starts praising Lilia as a hero.

OH????? Lilia seems to be waking????

HMMMM? this implies there’s limited suspension of disbelief each dreamer has 🤔 and if pushes past that threshold, then the dreamer is in a confused half awake state. Idia had these little moments of questioning his dream’s reality as well.

The senate’s voices distort, and they start shouting at Lilia for touching the prince, how it will be a scandal if a bat (… is Lilia a bat fae???) “dirties” the Draconias, etc. Mmmm, maybe this is the real reaction and the praising was part of the dream?? Since Lilia seemed to react strangely to being extolled. (I’m still over here wondering why their opinions hold so much weight compared to the queen; surely she would invite her friend Lilia back?? And doesn’t seem to blame him for the death of her daughter?)

Levan has a voice similar to Malleus, but lacks horns.

DVSUBILADUP9FFQEQFFAHAFBFEYBN OB MALLEUS JUMPSCARE, HE FINALLY MANAGED TO BREAK THROUGH INTO LILIA'S DREAM

Okay 😭 Lilia did in fact use his own life span so Malleus could hatch, and then Lilia had Maleficia swear to secrecy because he was concerned Malleus would blame himself. But it also feels like the senate purged or edited the records to hide the fact that Malleus hatched with Lilia’s love??

Malleus tries to convince Lilia to go back to sleep, to not feel pain. He says he can give Lilia a dream where the Draconias are still alive, a dream where Lilia can live peacefully, just take Malleus’s hand—

SILVER COMING IN CLUTCH, he and Sebek vow to break Malleus’s “blessing”. It’s this word that allows Lilia to fully awaken!!! ⏰ He’s so proud of Silver and Sebek…

They fight (well, Lilia distracts Malleus), then Silver uses his UM to hop into another dream.

They run into Ortho?! And then everyone is dropped off in front of Ignihyde.

FINALLY, SHROUD BROTHERS RETURN RIGHT AT THE VERY END!! I was wondering what they were doing while all this shit went down in Lilia's dream... It sounds like the next book 7 update will start off with Idia and Ortho, most likely told via flashback. I assume Ortho was able to help Idia wake up somehow?

This update felt like we got a lot of new lore!! But many of the events that played out were things we already had an inkling about prior to all of this (Meleanor dying, Lilia going on his travels eventually, Lilia helping Malleus hatch, etc.). It's nice to get the confirmation and to have the gaps of time inbetween filled in.

I really appreciate the story showing us just how hard Lilia's life was and then showing us just how important a nugget of happiness after all of that was so worth it for that moment. His VA did a stellar job with the voice acting this update, particularly the sobbing once Malleus hatched. I loved seeing Lilia's travels and how they gradually affected his own mindset over time... how he learned many different things from the people he encountered, and how he passed on that knowledge onto Malleus.

I liked seeing the origins of Lilia’s UM (he’s on a journey to find an answer)! Hearing about Sebek’s was also interesting; seeing as he’s a late bloomer with his magic and how he’s always competing with Silver, his UM manifested when Silver had been admitted to NRC and Sebek was training alone. I wonder if the UM also (in part) rose out of a feeling of inadequacy or feeling like he has to “catch up” to where Silver, Malleus, and Lilia are. No matter how hard it may be, he wants to push past his limits and serve as a knight. Maybe that, too, is why his UM prioritizes power and speed at his own body’s expense. It’s great seeing Sebek open up a little more and insist on fighting alongside fae; in modern day, Sebek has had to fight alongside humans. This is bridging the two sides of himself and helping him to reconcile with his own prejudices 😭

THE WHOLE DRAMA WITH THE SENATE MAKES ME UNDERSTAND WHY LILIA DROPPED THAT LINE ABOUT HISTORY BEING ALTERED OR REWRITTEN. It all makes so much sense now... Lilia himself (at least him hatching Malleus) was written out of history even though he did so much to help his country. He was so disliked, shunned, and shown animosity from the powers that be, and now he doesn't wish for that to happen to others, especially not to Malleus, the one good thing in his life and all that remained of the friends he lost along the way. You really see his teachings coming through in Silver and Sebek when they face off against OB Malleus towards the end. And the way I screeched when Lilia finally woke up after that...

The more I see OB Malleus, the more I get this skin-crawling feeling around him. I know the other OB boys have done arguably worse things (attempted murder, for example) but there's something so awful and insidious about the way Malleus speaks. He's intentionally gaslighting and manipulating others to just give in to his control, taking advantage of even Lilia at his lowest moments to dominate his thoughts. That's scary to think about... especially the dark inversion of Malleus urging Lilia to take his hand, when the game started off with a much more light-hearted and inviting "take my hand" offer.

Anyway!! I've been wondering for a long time what the Shrouds have been up to, and I'm so excited to see their story next update!!

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valkyrie1435atla · 4 months ago

Text

If This is a Dream, Don't Wake Me - MASTERPOST

Welcome to my blog dedicated to my Avatar: The Last Airbender fan comic. This is the masterpost with links to every part in chronological order, and the link to the spotify playlist of songs I've used in the video version of the comic. It will be updated with every new part I release.

-Synopsis- Team Avatar failed to defeat the Fire Nation, and suddenly find themselves back at the beginning.

Part 1: One Door Closes...

Part 2: Another Door Opens

Part 3: Lazarus Syndrome

Part 4: This Pain is Familiar to Me

Part 5: Delay (My Body Catches up to my Mind)

Part 6: You are Different From Yesterday

Part 7: Meeting you for the First Time (Again)

Part 8: We Need to Talk

Part 9: Get it Right This Time

Part 10: Tense

Part 11: A Change

Part 12: Boiling Point (My Worry Tears me Apart)

Part 13: Play-by-Play

Part 14: MORTEM OBIRE

Part 15: I Think Of You As My Own (All That Matters)

Part 16: Witness

Part 17: A Thankless Job

Part 18 is on HOLD- REDRAWS of parts 1-9 are in progress, in preparation for the posting of this comic on Archive of our own. Expect updates to continue as normal by the end of November.

-things to keep in mind-

I am only one person. This series is not my top priority in my life, it comes second to college, work, self care, etc. I am however extremely passionate about this work, and will update whenever I have the time.

I am an artist, not a writer. While I am working to improve my writing skills, some story elements may have continuity errors, and characters may act ooc sometimes. I really appreciate advice on how to write better

My preferred method of telling my story is through music. The video versions are up on my TikTok (@ valkyrie1435) and will be posted here eventually as well. I will definitely draw in a comic format, but to get the full experience, watch the videos.

This story will feature many of the main cast members, but it is primarily Zuko-centric. He is my special interest character, so naturally I draw him the most.

I am autistic, so my interactions in comments and asks may be awkward.

If you have a question not related to this comic, ask it on my main account, @valkyrie1435 also, don't write an ask if you don't have a question. Please use the comment/reply feature on posts.

I need validation. Like any other artist, I can only motivate myself for so long without outside feedback. Commenting and engaging with posts is very encouraged!

The story is a work in progress. I am not entirely sure the direction this series will be taking, so feel free to speculate or give suggestions on what you would like to see.

Ships will not be a focus. If you are looking for atla ship content, you won't find it here.

Link to Spotify playlist of songs I have used in the video version of the comic V

#atla #avatar the last airbender #if this is a dream au #original comic #prince zuko #uncle iroh #avatar aang #sokka #fan comic #masterpost #If This is a Dream Don't Wake Me #Spotify

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exhaslo · 10 months ago

Note

I love your stories it feels like I'm actually in it, I mostly like Mafia Miguel x shy reader.... But anyway if you seen Jennifer's body i can see Miguel being Jennifer and the reader being his friend. If you're taking requests may I have Jennifer's body au with Miguel O'Hara x reader? Thank you. 🥰😍 The ending ended up being together can add smut as well to it?

I actually never seen that movie because I am a wimp when it comes to anything horror, except animal horror. Place Jaws in front of me anyway and I'm down. But, I read a quick summary of the movie and I will make some small changes, you know, to sastify our needs haha.

Also, so sorry this was late. I'm still catching up to last month's requests!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, murder, blood, possession, shower sex, oral (f recieving)

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You knew something was wrong.

You knew that something had changed.

But, what were you supposed to do? Miguel was your best friend and he meant everything. He was your world. The two of you had been together since you were young, to leave him as he was now, would be the worst thing ever.

Rewind a few weeks ago. You and Miguel were just chilling after work at a local bar. Your cheeks were flushed as Miguel kept buying the two of you drinks. It was frustrating how much you loved your best friend. He was just so perfect, both at work and outside.

Hearing a local band start to play, you leaned against Miguel, complaining to him about work. The night was pretty vague after that, but you did recall a fire and Miguel bringing you home. After that he disappeared for the night.

When you awoke the next day, you found Miguel passed out on the couch with what looked like blood on his clothes. You thought nothing of it since Miguel would never do something drastic or crazy like murdering someone. So, you assumed it was ketchup and proceeded to help Miguel out of his clothes.

"What would I do without you?" Miguel mumbled under his breathe as you took his shirt off.

"I don't know, stay in gross clothes?" You said with a chuckle and fixed his hair, "Go wash up. The girls at work will go crazy over this bed hair of yours."

Miguel grunted and playfully used you to stand. You laughed and whined towards him, finishing up for work. The two of you shared a place only to help you with you rent. Miguel was perfectly fine with his own place, he was just helping you.

You first noticed something was off when you arrived at work that same day. Miguel was normal with you, but he had started to get flirty with some of your female coworkers. Miguel never payed any mind to any of them, so it kind of hurt to watch.

As the days went by, you couldn't help but notice some of your coworkers going missing. You tried to ask Miguel about it, but he just shrugged and reassured you that it was probably nothing. Of course, you wanted to believe him...but each of those girls who went missing were ones that Miguel flirted with.

"Miguel?" You called out, entering his lab. Miguel glanced towards you, his smile widening,

"(Y/N), climbed out of the library to see me?" He teased. You plopped yourself over Miguel, sighing heavily,

"Lemme vent for two minutes!" You whined, throwing your arms over his shoulders, "That jerk over in IT had the gal to ask me out on a date, Miggy! After he insulted my 'tiny' brain last week!" You huffed. Miguel felt his eye twitch as he pulled you onto his lap,

"Did you tell him no?" He asked, his tone getting a little harsher. You leaned against Miguel, pouting,

"Of course I said no..." You whimpered and crossed your arms, "He called me a dumb bitch after that...That all I do is..."

"Is what?" Miguel fixed you on his lap, wanting to hear the rest.

"Is...be your fuck toy..." You mumbled lowly.

Miguel felt his lips twitch into a smirk before pulling you into a hug. His warm embrace relaxing you while his mind started to race. Tonight was going to have a bitter taste compared to the rest. Once you were calmed down, Miguel stroked your cheeks,

"Don't pay any mind to him. Go home and order whatever you want with my card. I'll be there late."

"Miggy, you don't-"

"I want too," Miguel rested his forehead against yours, "We're best friends. Let me take care of you," He whispered.

--------

You should have known something was wrong. Miguel always had his barriers and lines, but he was willingly crossing all of them. It felt like you were getting closer to Miguel in a different light, and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Waiting for Miguel to return home, you started to put away some of the food and clean. He did say that he was going to be late, but it was reaching midnight. It was nerve racking having to wait for him to return home.

"Ugh,"

You gasped upon hearing the door. Rushing over, you saw Miguel leaning over the counter, coughing into the sink. Grabbing a bottle of water, you hurried to Miguel's side and gasped at the sight. He was covered in blood and throwing up something black and icky.

"Miguel?! Are you alright?! Did you get hurt?!" You panicked, fixing his hair and checking his body. Miguel wavered in place and wrapped his arms around you,

"I'm fine...(Y/N)...Don't worry about me," He mumbled into your neck. You frowned, leading him to the bathroom,

"I have to worry about you, who else will?" You told him, setting the water, "What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Please, Miguel. Let me be here for you," You nearly cried, using a soft wet rag to clean the blood around his face, "Please," You sobbed.

Miguel sighed heavily as he brought you against his chest. His breathing was staggered and heavy against your ear, using you as a sort of comfort. His grip tighten ever so slightly around your waist.

"I fucked up, (Y/N). I fucked up so bad," He whispered. You frowned and fixed his hair, "That night of the fire...I went after the assholes since you almost got hurt. I followed them into this alley and I don't know what the hell they were trying to do but...I ended up getting possessed by...something."

"Possessed?" You questioned. Miguel closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck,

"I guess I was supposed to be a sacrifice or something? But, I didn't met the criteria and this demon took over. I'm always hungry, (Y/N), always." You felt a sudden chill run down your spine as Miguel's hands crawled up your back, "I can't stop...but when I'm with you, I can feel it relax."

"The demon?" You questioned. Miguel leaned back, fangs poking out of his teeth,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). I'll always protect you."

"Same, Miggy, but if you're in trouble...Please let me help you," You begged him once more.

Miguel inhaled deeply as you stroked his face once more. He lazily glanced towards you, leaning forward to kiss your lips. You made a small squeak as his hands kept you in place. Miguel grunted as he forced his tongue into your mouth, hungrily.

But not for flesh.

Lifting you up with ease, Miguel pressed you back against the shower wall, ignoring the running water. His groan rumbled against his throat as he started to feel your body lean into his. Miguel was hungry for you. You tasted so sweet against him.

"Miguel," You whispered, breaking the kiss. Miguel rested his forehead against yours, letting the water run down your soaked clothes,

"When I'm with you, I don't hunger for flesh," He whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, "I want you...maybe...Just maybe, I won't have to suffer like this...if you let me have you."

You furrowed your brows with concern as Miguel spoke. Flesh? Right when you were going to ask him, Miguel captured your lips into another, rougher kiss. His hands pulling your shirt up, exposing your breasts underneath.

"Let me have you, (Y/N)," Miguel begged, kissing and sucking against your neck.

You felt your mind grow hazy as Miguel kept his antics. This was something you had always dreamed of. You tried to reply to Miguel, but moaned instead as he started to nipple and play with your breasts. You needed to ask him more about his demon.

"Mig-" You shivered as he started to rut into you, grunting and moaning with each grind.

"(Y/N), you're mine. Mine, only. I'll eat anyone who dares try to take you away from me," Miguel hissed, taking off your pajama pants.

"Miguel, w-what do you mean b-by eat?" You finally asked. Miguel glanced towards you once more, lifting your hips to his face, "W-Wait-"

You gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's tongue started to swirl around your clit and pussy. Your hands gripped his hair as you arched your back, crying out in pleasure. Miguel's tongue was lapping up your juices hungrily, holding your hips in place.

You felt your core burn as you slowly moved your hips to Miguel's movements. Trembling as you felt his tongue enter your cunt, you cried out as you felt your orgasm approaching fast. Miguel hummed in response, slowly pulling away from your dripping pussy,

"This taste much better," He said with a groan before going back to suck on your clit.

"Ah~ Miguel~!" You cried out. Miguel watched you contort your face in pleasure, crying out his name,

"(Y/N), if I eat you like this everyday..." Miguel groaned as he lowered you, pressing your face against the shower wall, "Then I won't have to feast on others. I can feel it...the demon enjoying this too."

"M-Miggy," You whimpered softly.

"Let me devour you,"

You gasped and moaned as you felt Miguel shove his cock into you deeply. Tears began to roll down your cheeks from the sudden intrusion as he filled you to the brim. Your pussy convulsed around his dick, sucking him in as you cam heavily.

You tried to grip onto the shower wall, but it was no use. Miguel held your hips, pounding into your poor fleshy cunt. Your moans grew louder with each slap of his hips, feeling pure pleasure. The size of his dick was stretching you out, kissing every part of your pussy.

"(Y/N), you feel so good," Miguel grunted, slapping his balls against your clit with each thrust, "Thank you for this meal, I'll make sure to fill you up too," He said with a grunt.

You cried and moan as you cam against Miguel's dick. Your vision blurring as the shower water poured against your skin. Miguel's grunts and moans turning you on even more. You gasped as Miguel lifted you up, inserting himself again as he kissed you.

"Mhm~ Miguel~!" You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. Miguel held you close, inhaling your scent as he fucked you stupid,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). Never," He repeated, watching you cream against his cock once more, "We're best friends, forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes!" You cried, trembling as you felt Miguel fill you with his cum, "Ah~ I-I help...c-control this..."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." Miguel hummed, kissing you in response.

By the time you recovered from the rapid sex session, Miguel went into more detail about what happened with him. You were terrified at first since now you knew that it was Miguel who killed your coworkers, but you also understood.

There was no curing Miguel. At least the two of you found out how to control the demon possessing him. Miguel didn't need to eat flesh anymore, all he needed was you.

"Fuck, more (Y/N), just once more." Miguel grunted as he fucked your pussy from behind, "I can't stand seeing another man get near you."

"Miguel~ Miguel~" You cried into the pillow, gripping the bedsheets under your. Miguel hissed lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pounding your pussy a bit more harshly,

"Mine! Mine! Mine! If I can't fuck some sense into you, then I'll eat them," He hissed lowly. You cried out, cumming against his dick once more, milking him dry for his cum,

"I understand, Miggy~ Hah~ Hah~ O-Only I can ease your hunger," You whimpered lowly. Miguel kissed your back, giving you soft, gentle thrusts,

"I know, (Y/N). I know, don't mind me," He whispered, apologizing for his tone, "Thank you for the meal...now and forever."

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Like I said, never watched Jennifer's Body, but hopefully this was okay and somewhat...what the movie wanted? Idk man, maybe one day I'll grow a pair and watch some horror movies.

Hope you enjoyed!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Recently I became curious about how ancient people hunted in the world of TwistedWonderland.🧔🏹🦣

If they didn't have magic in Monster Au, they used their wits and ingenuity. Animal hunting and fishing🦣 🏹 🐟. Pits, a stone maze so for catching fish and cattle.

You can see the reaction to the methods and techniques of trapping characters.

Don't mind me trying to work my way into a good groove and answering asks in my inbox 😅

It’s simply amazing what human ingenuity can do to get a task done, especially when it comes to surviving out in nature! Throw these craft humans into a world of monsters and magic, and you pretty much have what most epics and legends in our world describe mythical creatures and feats of strength. 😆

Once Yuu arrives in Twisted Monsterland, they may start seeing old paintings depicting clashes between humans and monsters. Ranging from spears and swords mistakenly melding into flesh like malformed limbs and claws to wearing leather and gleaming silver armor mistaken as insectoid carapaces, it’s no wonder humans were used in stories to scare little children into being good. These ancient humans looked positively monstrous—perhaps even more so than any monster in existence. Perhaps that is why so many were both terrified and confused as to why this scrunkly of a creature calling itself a human didn’t even match the few surviving paintings from a bygone era.

Pair that with the stories told on how ancient humans would hunt for food or built traps to capture monsters and comparing that to how Yuu looks? It’s easy for the monsters to brush off these abilities of magicless humans as being anything more than just mere fantasy or exaggeration. There’s simply no way a human can build traps and webs like spider monsters, create fire that lasts for days without smoke, or chase their prey for days on end without breaking a sweat!

Turns out, those myths are more true than the monsters realize. Especially if their resident human just so happens to have survivalist training under their belt…

///Camp Vargas///

“Uh…why are you digging a hole in the ground?”

“Making a fire pit.”

Ace glanced at Yuu as they continued to shovel more dirt out of a relatively large hole. “So…if you’re building a pit, then why did you make a smaller hole right here?” he asked, pointing at said opening in the dirt. “And if you’re building a fire, why aren’t you making one above ground? Are you trying to bury it or something?”

The shovel broke the last of the dirt wall between the holes before Yuu straightened up, gathering several long branches they’d collected with several large cuts of logs and starting to set them up at an angle. “Oh, I’m still building one above ground. I’m just making two different ones.” Pointing at the hole they’d just dug out, they said, “We call this one a ‘Dakota Fire Hole’. Typically this one is used for outdoor cooking, since it produces little smoke and doesn’t need a lot of fuel.” Setting some sticks and tinder inside the larger of the two holes, the took a piece of flint and began striking it with a stone. Soon a small yet hot fire was blazing inside the hole, just barely licking the air outside of the hole before settling down into a steady flicker. “The second hole generates airflow, which keeps the fire fueled with oxygen so it’ll burn longer.”

“Then what’s the other one for?”

“A self-feeding campfire.” They began loading chopped logs on both sides of the now V-shaped structure they’d built. “It uses gravity to drop new logs to keep the fire going, which means it’ll last all night. Pretty handy so you don’t have to keep getting up to replenish the log pile!”

One ear lowering in confusion, Ace stared at Yuu as they struck up another inferno on the bottom log. Somehow the fire didn’t crawl or spread to the rest of the logs. “…how exactly did you learn this?” he finally asked.

“Survivalist training. Why do you ask?”

Snap! Twang! “Fynaaah!?” Fwoosh!

“Uh oh. Grim! I told you to stay away from there! That’s where I set up the snare trap.”

“Why did you set it up so close to the tent?!” the chimera yowled as students stared in shock and surprise.

“To keep away intruders.” A sudden cacophony of clattering and clanging rang out, followed by a startled mix of a canine yelp and deer-like squeal before a thud hit the ground. “Epel! Are you okay?!”

“What is this?!” the einfield snarled, twisting and trying to untangle himself from the string of empty cans and bells. “Git it offa me!”

“Hold still, or you’ll strangle your wings! Ace, could you get Grim down for me? The snare hook is on the ground behind the tree on the tent’s left side.”

As Yuu went to free Epel from the new contraption—which Ace heard them comment was their ‘alarm system’—he shook his head in confusion and disbelief. What was even happening? Did Yuu pick up some strange trick from one of the spider monster students when he wasn’t looking? “I’m not taking another step until you tell me what other traps you set up,” he finally called out, warily looking around for more strings and rope near his large rabbit feet. “I don’t want to get tangled up in anything like those two did!”

“Oh don’t worry, I didn’t have time to set up any other snares or alarms yet,” Yuu called out, carefully freeing Epel’s arm before working on freeing the rest of his body. “You’re safe, so long as you-”

Shoof! “WAH!?!” a familiar loud voice screamed, the sound echoing so far that it reverberated through the trees. WHUD!! “Urk…HUMAN!!! What foul trickery is this?!?”

“…oh, right. I forgot about the pit trap I dug earlier,” Yuu said as multiple eyes stared at them.

“Why in Twisted Wonderland would you need to build something like that?!” Riddle all but shouted once it sank in what just happened.

“Hey, if a bear comes rampaging around the camp because you guys aren’t putting your food away, don’t come crying to me if there’s no pit trap to keep it busy!”

Needless to say, after everyone was rescued, no one could fathom how Yuu learned such archaic—if frighteningly deceptive—trapping methods for a camping trip. It wasn’t until the last night of Camp Vargas that they understood why when the remaining students used the trap to buy themselves some time from the “beast” before running to the swamp.

/-------------/

Now of course the defensive traps were pretty impressive, Ruggie had to admit that much. But traps that catch fish with little to no effort? Even he was impressed by the speed at which Yuu was able to harvest so many fish in one sitting, and with a simple stick and twine “fence”? Let alone the basketful of fish they’d caught by hand after making a shady spot with a tarp propped over the water!

“Sure, I could use a fishing rod if I wanted,” Yuu commented as they continued whittling away at the tip of a sturdy branch. “A net would also come in handy, but since we’re going to be here for a short time, I wouldn’t be able to make a decent one to use it effectively.” Jabbing their carving knife over at the fire pits they had dug earlier, they added, “Besides, if I don’t adapt and use what I have available, then I can lose out on a good food source and my chances of survival are slim to none.”

“Huh. Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, the leucrocuta looking between his catch and Yuu’s. The human’s collection was quickly catching up to Floyd’s, which was surprising since he’d stopped earlier due to boredom. “This came from that survival training thing you mentioned earlier, right?”

“Mm-hm! I can teach you a few things I learned if you want.”

“Shehehehe~! Sounds great! Just one question though: what’cha making? Some kind of walking stick?”

“Oh, this? It’s going to be a spear.”

“…spear?” The word sounded vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why as he tried to examine it. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen any other monster use or make before. “What’s it for?”

“It’s used for different things, like defense or attacking.” Cutting a few more chips off, Yuu stood up and examined their work. They had whittled one end of the branch to the point it was needle-sharp, a sight that weirdly sent chills down his spine when he looked at it. “I made this one specifically to go spear fishing. Here, I’ll show you!”

As they walked into the water, he expected the human to immediately strike into the water like they had when they did the shadow fishing. However, they simply stood still, eyes locked onto the water’s surface with the spear raised over their shoulder. He watched in silence, instinctively knowing that Yuu was hunting for their prey yet not understanding how this would work. Suddenly, they tensed, their shoulders tightening as they raised their spear higher in a smooth motion. For the briefest moment, he swore he saw the human with the needle-sharp arm in his history book instead of Yuu, his heart leaping in his throat at the vivid imagery. Before he could react, the spear was sent flying forward-

Splosh!

And struck the riverbed, Yuu immediately rushing forward to grab the upright tool before pulling it out. To his shock and utter amazement, the spear had pierced the body of a large trout, still flopping even as Yuu carried it back to shore with a triumphant grin on their face. Their smile faded to one of concern as they asked, “You okay, Ruggie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Chuckling nervously, Ruggie uttered, “Uh…you could say that.” A ghost of the past maybe, he thought as he picked up the baskets. “Hey, uh, why don’t we go ahead and cook these? I think we’ve got enough!”

“Oh. Sure, sounds good. Oh! I know a few tricks to preserve the meat for later!”

“Great! Just…do me a favor and not point that spear thing at anyone, okay?”

////////

I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more that could be said or done, but you get the picture. XD Hope you all enjoy!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #ace trappola #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #riddle rosehearts #ruggie bucchi #I seem to use Ace to react to Yuu's weirdness more often than not and I have no regrets 😂

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pascaloverx · 30 days ago

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DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

ONE THREE

TWO

The man knelt before you, pleading for more time. He tried to bargain, claiming he was on the verge of creating a scheme that would corrupt countless souls for you.

"My dear, don’t waste your breath. Our pact was sealed long ago; I used you for the purposes I desired, and now Satan wants your soul. It’s quite simple—it won’t even hurt. It was pleasurable while it lasted, wasn’t it? I gave you every sinful delight imaginable. Now, it’s time to pay the price," you murmur as you crouch down to speak face to face. The man, now sobbing, desperate to avoid death, shakily points a gun at you. His hand trembles as he aims it at your face, and you can’t help but find it almost endearing that he’s so determined to live.

"It wasn’t going to hurt. I wasn’t planning to harm you—I was going to leave that to the demon in charge of your soul down in Hell. But you’ve just lost that privilege," you say, your voice calm as the man frantically throws objects at you, screaming for help. And then you touch him and immediately he catches fire. The flames cover his entire body, as he agonizes and screams in pain, almost roaring for help. When you get bored of seeing a man like that, you touch him again; and it's as if he had never been burned.

"What have you done to me, you demon?" he yells, charging at you like a raging bull, which only makes you laugh.

"I gave you a little preview of your future, darling. Now, brace yourself for your next adventure." You mockingly reply, and before he can reach you, you make him vanish, sending him to his rightful place. Being a demon certainly has its ups and downs, but truthfully, you're growing weary of it all.

Perhaps it’s a good time to visit your favorite priest for confession. It's been a week since you last made contact. You slip into a red lace lingerie set and throw a black coat over it. Naturally, you can’t forget your rosary—it’s essential for keeping appearances. With a final touch, you teleport to Father Charlie Mayhew’s location.

You appear in his room, where he’s half-naked, engaging in self-flagellation while reciting scripture. "Ephesians 6:11: 'Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes,'” he says, inflicting pain upon himself, still unaware of your presence. His back was covered in cut marks, bleeding everywhere, his eyes closed as he felt the pain rack his flesh.

“Father Mayhew, need some help? There are parts of your back that remain untouched,” you say, catching him off guard. Leaning casually against a piece of furniture near a crucifix on the wall, you smile wickedly as he jumps in shock. The towel wrapped around him nearly slips, the only thing keeping him covered. Your eyes glint with amusement, knowing you’ve disrupted his supposed sanctity once again.

"Are you really here?" Father Mayhew asks, standing up, now nearly face to face with you. His gaze is intense, as though he had been thinking about you long before you appeared in his room. You move around the room slowly, admiring the details, your movements deliberate as you subtly encircle him, using your body language to create a sense of dominance. His eyes follow your every step, conflicted between fear and desire.

"How could I not be here, my dear Father, when you bring me such satisfaction?" you say, your voice laced with dark amusement. "I’ve heard you’ve kept your sinful habits, wishing only for my return. I believe you’ve earned a reward." Your fingers lightly trace over the fresh wounds on his back, sending shivers through him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as you slowly remove your coat, revealing the red lace lingerie beneath, a sinful gift crafted solely for his eyes. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, the temptation too powerful to resist, his internal conflict laid bare in the silence between you.

"Galatians 5:16: 'So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh,'” Father Mayhew murmurs, moving closer to you, his eyes fixed on your chest, tracing every curve and detail of your body. If you weren’t a demon, his gaze might have made you feel shy.

“I’m usually the one who hears confessions, but I must confess to you... I longed to see you again, with a fervor far beyond what is permitted,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he stands mere inches from your face, as if yearning for a kiss, the tension between you palpable. You regard him with playful amusement, as if he were your favorite source of entertainment.

"Confess to me, Father. Show me what you desire, and prove what you're capable of," you say, your voice laced with a subtle challenge as your fingers brush against his chest. He inhales sharply at your touch, his eyes reflecting the battle between restraint and temptation. The air between you is thick with tension, and despite his struggle, you sense the pull of his desires growing stronger.

The priest kneels before you, gazing up as though seeking your blessing for survival. "Forgive me, in all Your glory, Lord. For I am devoted to You and should turn away from sinful desires, striving to be a good man," he says, yet his eyes remain fixed on you, laden with a sinful intensity. It’s as though his words are meant for God, but his confession is entirely yours. The feeling of power surges through you. Your hands glide over his face, which now seems to exude a wickedly sinful allure. Your fingers lightly trace his full lips, the touch both tender and commanding.

"You must be devoted to me as well. Embrace your darker side, Father. Do not hide it behind your robes. Accept who you truly are," you whisper, your hand gliding along his neck as his head tilts back, eyes wide and fixed on you.

"And who am I, demon?" Father Mayhew asks, his voice trembling slightly, as if he genuinely seeks the answer. His gaze is locked on you, watching intently as you kneel before him, the tension between his devotion and his desire thick in the air.

"You are mine. You belong to me—not only your body, but your soul as well. Punish yourself as much as you wish, but never forget, it is I whom you must worship and fear," you whisper softly, standing before him, your presence enveloping him. The weight of your words lingers in the air, both a command and a promise, as his gaze remains locked on yours, torn between submission and resistance.

"For the love of God, you are the most tempting creature I have ever encountered. How am I to remain pure in your presence?" Father Mayhew exclaims, his voice filled with helplessness as he gazes at you, nearly unraveling before you.

"Father, you're taking the Lord's name in vain... what a naughty boy," you respond with a playful laugh, lowering yourself slightly to kiss his neck. His body shudders under your touch, a wave of tension and desire sweeping through him as your lips brush his skin. Then his fingers trail down to the underside of your lingerie. You lift yourself up a little to help him touch your pussy over your lingerie, biting your lip when you feel his cold fingers touch there. It doesn't take long for him to tear the fabric and finally massage your wet pussy, making you moan softly. His fingers touching you, gently massaging your clit as you touch his strong arms, encouraging him to continue fingering you.

"Say that you are mine as well, demon. Tell me that you are under the spell of what I do to you. Beg me for forgiveness," Father Mayhew demands, his voice taking on a more assertive tone, as if he wishes for you to confess your own sinful desire.

You move toward him, pulling him close, and without hesitation, your lips meet his in a heated kiss. It’s a battle of passion, a wordless exchange of defiance and submission. Neither of you yields, tongues entwining in a struggle for dominance, each unwilling to surrender to the other.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you moan against his lips, the words flowing like a dark and twisted prayer, as if reciting a beautiful, forbidden verse.

"I forgive you..." he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. It's as if he needs the taste of you more than he needs to breathe, each movement of his mouth against yours betraying the battle within him, torn between what he knows is wrong and the temptation he can no longer resist. His hands caress your body, stopping at your thighs, and as he grabs them, you open your legs so he can penetrate you.

"Father Mayhew, are you there?" A woman's voice calls from outside, her knock firm against the door. You and Father Mayhew lock eyes, both silently exchanging glances that hold the weight of unspoken words. He knows your nature, the dangerous allure you carry, and in this moment, he acts on instinct. As he tries to compose himself, he quickly places his hand over your mouth, silencing any response that might expose you both. His expression is tense, a silent plea for discretion, as the tension in the room grows thick.

"Yes, Sister Megan. Do you need something? I'm just finishing getting ready," Father Mayhew calls out, his voice steady despite the situation. He glances at you, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. It’s clear that, though he might never openly admit it, he's waiting for whatever mischief you might stir. He craves it—your demonic influence, your unpredictable nature—and the subtle tension in the air reveals that he is far more enticed by the chaos you bring than he dares to acknowledge. You then use one hand to masturbate Father Mayhew, who moans in response to the sensation of your hand touching his cock, which is already covered in pre-cum. Your fingers running the length of Father Mayhew's cock as he closes his eyes feeling you touch him.

"I would love your opinion on an article I'm considering publishing. It's quite intriguing, I must admit. It discusses some recent murders that are likely related to the church. I thought we could discuss it over a meal," Sister Megan says, her enthusiasm palpable. Father Mayhew shuts his eyes tightly, his hand still covering your mouth as he stifles a few muffled groans. The tension in the room is thick, a stark contrast to Sister Megan’s casual demeanor, as he struggles to regain his composure, caught between his duty and the forbidden thrill of your presence.

"Wait for me at the church entrance... I will, I will be there in a few minu...tes, now please allow me to dress in silence," he stammers, urgency lacing his voice as he attempts to gather himself. His eyes flicker to yours, a mix of desire and desperation evident as he fights to maintain his composure while you continue to captivate him. Your hand closed around the contour of his cock, moving back and forth, sometimes touching the head of his cock. He is on the verge of cumming, one hand under your mouth, the other under your breast, squeezing your breast, causing you a pleasurable sensation.

"I'll be waiting for you, Father," Sister Megan says before leaving, her footsteps echoing in the silence. You couldn’t care less about her departure. The tension in the room escalates as you release your grip on him, locking eyes with the Padre. He removes his hand from your lips, frustration etched across his features.

"Why did you stop?" Father Mayhew asks, a sultry grunt escaping his lips, revealing his longing for your sweet touch. His gaze searches for you, desperate and yearning, as he grapples with the overwhelming desire you stir within him. The air crackles with unspoken words, the thrill of the forbidden intensifying the moment.

"Next time, give me more importance. Your attention must be entirely mine, just like your devotion, but right now, neither belongs to me. I'm sure you can call Sister Megan in here to assist you if you wish. Until our next encounter," you say, your tone tinged with irritation as you reprimand him with a piercing gaze.

As he reaches out to touch your face, murmuring a soft, "I'm sorry," it’s too late. You vanish into thin air once again, leaving him frustrated and uncertain, haunted by the question of whether you will truly return. The echo of your presence lingers in the room, a reminder of the intoxicating temptation he now craves.

#father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #nicholas alexander chavez #charlie mayhew #demon x priest #demon au #sister megan #grotesquerie #nicholas chavez #sister megan duval #demonic reader #religion mention #religion aesthetic #i wanna fuck a priest #smut #soundcloud #SoundCloud

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holy-puckslibrary · 9 months ago

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━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.”

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something.

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.”

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face.

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second.

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips.

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat.

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?”

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside.

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.”

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?”

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.”

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?”

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth.

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.”

“Why? Because you already are?”

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose.

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor.

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs.

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother.

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why.

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance.

“Who died and made you king?”

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.”

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.”

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved.

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.”

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out.

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.”

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas.

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.”

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend.

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth.

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely.

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?”

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass.

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite.

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.”

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.”

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood.

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back.

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.”

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.”

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten.

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump.

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another.

At least this one’s easy on the eyes.

⤑ to my inbox💌

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⬸ back to the main blog

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two-white-butterflies · 4 months ago

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coaxed you into paradise - c. 34

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of Daemon, whose loved her all her life.

masterlist for this series

My sister and I have always been polar opposites. She was a demure and obedient girl. She always listened to her Septa. She seldom missed her lessons, muña always complimented her obedience and interest in all things that ladies must do. They see her as a paragon of chasteness and virtue, she made it easy to love her.

She looks up at me with those round pleading eyes, and I bend.

Are you allowed to have tarts?" I inquired and she shakes her head. "I have a cough and muña says that I'm only allowed to eat fruits." she responded eloquently, not stuttering in spite of her young age.

I was proud of my sister.

"Nyra," she says my name. "- can you tell me a bedtime story?" she pleaded, grabbing the hems of my gown. I respond with a light chuckle, before settling down on the bed beside her.

When I was your age, Uncle Daemon told me stories too. Of valiant knights and fair maidens, of forest animals and dragons." I cooed, smiling at the thought of Daemon. How long has it been since we've last seen each other? Far too long.

I longed for him - truly.

"Uncle Daemon?" she tilted her head, the name sounding foreign on her tongue. My eyes widen slightly, was she unaware of our uncle's existence? "Our father's brother. He left a year ago to join his wife in the Riverlands." I explained, lifting the blanket to cover half her body.

"- now shall we head off to our story?" I inquired and she hummed. Her eyelids already fluttering as she prepares for her slumber.

"Once upon a time, there was a dragon and a scorpion, they both needed to cross the narrow sea. The scorpion sits atop the dragon, and asks: dragon, may I ride your saddle? I need to cross the narrow sea. But then the dragon breathes her fire and says: No scorpion, you may not for you are a scorpion and your nature is to sting." I tried my best to remember part of the short story.

"The scorpion shakes his head and says: Silly dragon, why would I bite you? I need to cross the narrow sea too, and if I bite you, we will both fall into the ocean. For the first time, the dragon does not follow rational thought, she allows the scorpion to ride her saddle. And when they were about to land in Dragonstone, the scorpion stings the dragon. She says: I trusted you scorpion? Why betray me?"

"- and the scorpion laughs: I am a scorpion and my nature is to sting. You cannot change an animal's nature." I finished, and by then she was burrowed into her sheets.

Only mere minutes away from dreaming. "Did Uncle Daemon tell you this story?" she asked me and I shook my head. "Our kepa shared this story to me before you were born. He said that he dreamt about it." I smiled, remembering the days where there was only three of us.

Muna. Kepa and Me.

"That is why, you must bask in the company of those who can fly beside you. Not those that shall sting you." I warned her, flicking a piece of her hair away from her face. "Goodnight, sister." I whispered - pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Rhaenyra." she replied.

I smile again. My mother favored her the most. My father only yearned for a son, but I am happy to know that she chooses me, and all circumstances were fine.

It was seven years later when my uncle returned to the Red Keep. I still remember the day that I saw him again. I was standing beside my sister - who was wearing a yellow gown that caused the other ladies at court to make fun of her. She looked like a banana, they said and she came to me running with tears in her eyes.

"Rhaenyra," he calls out to me.

"Daemon." I freeze for a second, only brought to reality by my sister's grip on my forearm. "I apologize, uncle this is..." I introduced them to each other, not taking my eyes off Daemon.

The years have done nothing to his face, he was still as dashing and daring as before. I can still see the same shade of purple in his Valyrian eyes, that same petulance on his lips that I bore too.

I should've known the moment that I introduced them to each other. Daemon always had a certain liking to the gentle ones, and with my sister's Valyrian blood it didn't take a while for him to fall in love.

Instead of spending the entire summer playing chess with my uncle, or walking in the gardens with my sister. They both spent their time in each other's company, no doubt already making jokes that only they could relate to - no doubt riding dragons without me.

And so, I felt alone again.

At the beginning both Saera and Daemon favored me the most, but now they favored each other. Worst of all, I found myself hating her.

I found myself hating the girl that I raised.

"There are rumors about your sister and Prince Daemon." Alicent opened the conversation, she continued braiding my hair. "Pray tell." I paused, intrigued about my best-friend's gossip. "They were together, like lovers, I heard my father talking to Uncle Lancel." she informed and it was like my heart stopped beating.

How was it that he chose her? Everyone at court spoke about my beauty, even called me the Realm's Delight, but Daemon could not see that - he'd rather choose a maiden with silver-gold hair and dull purple eyes to warm his cold nights.

What did she have that I did not?

"Will they be wed, princess?" Alicent inquired.

"I-I don't know." I stuttered, finding myself speechless.

The next time I saw my sister, it was after our mother's pyre. She was standing next to the Weirwood Tree with tears in her eyes. She lost the parent that loved her the most. Now she knows what it feels. "I wonder if in that moment father was happy, because he had the son that he desired." I breathed and she wipes the tears from her eyes.

"Rhaenyra, kepa loves us as much as he'd love his sons." Saera comforted, wanting to take the optimistic route instead of facing the inevitable reality. We both knew that she was bluffing, and if deep inside she did believe her words then time would be a stark reminder.

"We will never be sons, sons are better than daughters." I corrected. "- kepa will have another wife, he'll have more sons and we'll be sent away." I mourned, shaking my head. Our mother had just died, and everyone at court couldn't stop talking about the next Queen.

"His sons will be his pride, and we shall be his joy. A man's pride overweights anything else." I added while gathering my gowns to stand up. Mayhaps, this is the perfect time to offer her some advice.

"Take this as a warning, sister. Stay away from our kepus, if you wish to avoid rumors of your spoiled maidenhead. Maybe then you'll be provided a good match." I warned, before standing up and sitting beside Alicent.

Instead of being punished, my sister was given leeway. She was betrothed to Ser Harwin Strong, who was handsome, and dashing. He always treated me with respect and I must admit, I was jealous of her. Our father was not punishing her, he was rewarding her with this match.

"Your sister is gracious." Harwin muttered, handing me goblet of wine as the festivities ensue. All I could think about was Daemon - how he ended a war just to be here, he was too late. Now he must watch his beloved in the arms of another.

I found myself smiling at him.

Seeing nothing but kindness behind his brown eyes.

"- she was ever vigilant in planning our wedding." he added.

And that conversation was the start of many more conversations. Until one night, my tenderness broke and I allowed sin to enter.

I found myself slowly liking this man. His deep voice, his velvety tone. Everything about him was made to my liking. He was pure and true. He made me forget about Daemon. He made me forget about Saera.

"How is the babe?" he asked, reaching down to press his palms on my swollen belly. A smile paints my lips. "The babe is well," I replied placing both of my hands on my tummy. Fatherhood suited him.

The mere thought of his seed inside my belly made me swell with joy. We were made for each other. "- and his mother?" he inquired, meeting my eyes that were filled with adoration. "She is well, now that you are here." I smile deeper, pressing a kiss on his lips.

There were nights where we spent talking about love, before we were together. The first name that spilled out of my tongue was of Daemon, that I fancied him as a child, but he never reciprocated those feelings. My hands snake towards his chest, wrapping him in a warm embrace.

With Harwin and Laenor and her sons, there was nothing she couldn't do. She could move mountains and drain rivers. All because of them, my boys, the very reason for my existence.

When the news of Harwin's death came to me, the entire world collapsed. The love of my life was swallowed my fire. "Mother," Jacaerys finds his place beside me, grabbing my forearm and I collapsed on the floor. "It cannot be," I cried feeling the air run out of my lungs.

He was my joy. The sun of my life.

"He was burned, my lady." her handmaiden announced, keeping her eyes on the floor, in respect of her lady's grief. "Burned my whom?" I sharply questioned. I would kill for him, one day.

But for now, I needed to live for him.

"There are rumors, my princess, but none of them have been proven true." my handmaiden replied, lips pursed into a thin line. The tears wouldn't stop flowing out of my eyes. "Cunts," I mumbled.

How would I take on the world without my sun? Without the man that made everything possible.

I became cruel after that. I hid in Dragonstone. I refused to leave.

When Saera's son, Daegon, came with the news of Lucerys' death. I knew that I had to have my revenge. I called for mercenaries to murder Prince Aelor, because I wanted Aemond to know what it felt like to lose a son. I wanted their family to break. I wanted them to die.

I see the moon from my bed.

The moon has always been related to the tides, and the tides reminded me of Alyssa and Saera.

The tears pool in my eyes.

"Is someone there?" I raised my voice, seeing someone's shadow sitting on my chair. I reached for the dagger under my pillow, and I rose from the sheets, aiming the dagger at the figure. "Reveal yourself," I commanded - not in fear.

I freeze seeing my little sister.

Silver-gold hair, a perfect nose and light-purple eyes. She looked younger, like how she was before we fell out. "What did you do?" she cried, holding a bundle of cloth, I could hardly make out the visage of the babe in her arms.

And when I did recognize it, my heart sank to my chest.

It was Aelor. He was wet - covered in water. I could smell the scent of salt and sand. "He was kind, never jealous, never angry." she rambled, eyes meeting mine.

"You took him, and I'll never forgive you."

next chapter>>

@gigglytato @daemonskelitsos @delaynew @neenieweenie @rostherightfulheir

#daemon targaryen x oc #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #hotd daemon

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kiame-sama · 1 year ago

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Warnings; bg3, full party (because I want them all there to talk), Druid Tav*, Slight druid path spoilers I guess?, Owlbear, Protector type Tav, yandere companions (ALL of them), basic identity spoilers for first act followers, slight early story spoilers, they/them reader, yandere Raphael makes an appearance too.

* Tav is the name that always appears in the character generator first, so technically Tav is the unofficial term for the player character- or Reader in this scenario.

~~~~~~~~

The large owlbear lumbered slowly amongst the fallen undead, using the sharp beak to pick around the bodies for anything useful. Of course, not everything picked up by the defacto leader of the group was typically deemed useful. Such was the way of the unusual soul the group found themselves following the every whim of.

Countless battles had been won with their leadership and each companion had true respect for their leader, even if respect for the other companions was variable. To take them from desperate and hopeless about their plight to truly believing they could succeed their impossible mission. Each odd soul brought in to the fold by the odd druid may not believe, but they believed in how much their leader believed. For them, this was enough.

This meant that when their trusted leader wandered around as a creature that could feasibly carry three of them, they just followed along and grabbed what they wanted if their leader didn't pick it up first. They trusted their leader to distribute loot and treasure adequately based off of who could best use what was collected. Still, that didn't make the experience any less surreal, even for those who were familiar with druids that favored their bestial forms.

"Astarion, do you ever feel like we, as a group, just adapt to everything around us a little too well?"

Gale, the wizard of the group walked next to the rogue vampire spawn, his arms crossed in a contemplative way. Never before would he have imagined himself having light banter with such a being without bloodshed, but here he was regardless.

"Do tell me you are joking, right?"

"No, should I be?"

"God's, Gale, we're all stuck here as a group with only one thing in common- the fact that we're facing impossible odds to simply survive- and we can barely keep ourselves from killing each other. On top of that, just what do you think we're doing right now? Hm?"

"... Collecting the spoils of our battle?"

There was a distinct moment of silence as the beautiful vampire spawn stared at the wizard with a look of disbelief and disgust. The apparent pause catching the attention of the rest of the party- minus the owlbear lumbering ahead of the group- as they all decided to listen in. It was good fun to hear the others squabble and it gave a sense of comradery despite the situation they were in, misery loving company in most ways, though things weren't seeming too miserable now.

"We are in a temple that is inside of a crypt- some depth underground- picking amongst the remains of reanimated corpses that have all been stomped to death by our Owlbear leader. Not to mention this leader who just so happens to be the most balanced person among us and somehow isn't corrupt as all hells while doing it."

Some of the others nodded along in their own ways, knowing Astarion's assessment wasn't too far off from the crux of the situation they found themselves in. A few cast glances at the afore mentioned owlbear leader who seemed rather content rooting through what little remained from their earlier rampage.

"And they're hot as the hells while doing it."

Karlach, the literal flaming tiefling barbarian, commented, putting herself in the conversation with a wide grin.

"You're one to talk, Karlach," Wyll playfully jabbed back, "You've literally got fire coming out of you!"

"You know I'm right though!"

"Well, I didn't say you were wrong."

Before the two could continue, Astarion cut them off, bringing the now group conversation back to Gale.

"Anyways, my point still stands. We are not the ones who make this all work. They make it work for us. We are stuck together- like it or not- and they call the shots. We can get used to anything because they can get used to anything. Don't pat yourself on the back too hard now, it might get you excited."

Gale slightly winced at that jab, given the fact that he was the most obvious about being smitten with the group leader, and yet his beloved was completely unaware of how hard he had fallen. How hard they all had fallen.

"Are you all fools," Shadowheart hissed in a low voice, "you know they can hear us, right?"

It was Lae'zel's turn to bark out a laugh, her lips curled in a sly grin as she regarded the Sharian cleric. It gave the Githyanki soldier a sense of satisfaction to know something about their leader the cleric didn't.

"They can't understand us in that owlbear form. Why else would these fools talk so plainly?"

Unknown to them, their leader could understand them, but simply didn't want to cause in-fighting or favoritism to arise. So they simply carried on as if unaware of the conversation, just trying to focus on finding what was salvageable.

Unknown to them all, a demon watched from the rafters. His arms were crossed and a grin played across his lips. He had to admit, that druid was certainly a fetching prize as they clearly enamored not only their mismatched companions but him as well. Time would leave him the last among them by the druid's side, he would ensure it. Besides, he had plenty of time to wait.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere bg3 #yandere astarion #yandere Raphael #yandere gale #yandere lae'zel #yandere shadowheart #yandere karlach #yandere wyll

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gffa · 11 months ago

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Over the last week, I decided to go ahead with bookmarking all the fics I've recommended over the years on AO3 since I abide by tumblr poll results always (and man pour one out for all the fic that never made it to AO3 or has since been deleted, sooooo many gems lost to time!) and it was a bit more than the ~3,000 I was expecting:

Hopefully, this will be easier than browsing the hundreds of recs posts I've made, since you can filter for any of the author's tags now! These are mostly focused on Star Wars and DC fandom, but I did my time in the anime mines and occasional tours through some TV fandoms or movies. You can dig into everything unfiltered and start your own filtering, or the bigger fandoms you'll find:

MAJOR FANDOMS: Each of these should have 100+ at minimum and, in the case of Star Wars, literally almost half of them are in that fandom. Look, Star Wars fandom might be a trash fire in a lot of ways, but it is ON FIRE with some good fic. (Older bookmarks not guaranteed to match my current sentiments, especially re: the Jedi, but they did catch my fancy at that point in time!)

STAR WARS: - All Star Wars -OR- All Star Wars minus the Obi-Wan/Anakin ship - OR- Nothing BUT Obi-Wan/Anakin

BATMAN/DC: - DC can sometimes be tricky, but you can do a Batman* search and get most of them (though, sometimes Nightwing* or Young Justice* or Superman* will catch some of the others). Honestly, though, you might want to just do a search for what character or dynamic you like and have fun from there, because otherwise you're getting a face full of my Dick Grayson Is The Center Of The Universe And I'm Making That Everyone Else's Problem agenda. ;)

MARVEL/MCU: - Marvel* will probably get most of the various properties, though you may want to filter for Defenders* or Guardians of the Galaxy* if you're interested -OR- Marvel* without the Thor/Loki - These focus a lot on the Thor* fandom if you want to witness the results of like 8 years of constant voracious reading in that fandom (Minus the ship), because, seriously, I read a LOT of Odinson family fic. - Bonus, just do a search for Maximoff* to find some really good X-Men: First Class-verse because, listen, I have been ALL ABOUT the Maximoff twins since long before the movies or MCU brought them over and I will DIE ON THE HILL of "Marvel, make Magneto their bio-dad again or I'm never reading another comic of yours ever".

TOLKIEN/LORD OF THE RINGS/SILMARILLION/HOBBIT: - Tolkien* -OR- Hobbit* -OR- Lord of the Rings* searches will turn up most of my Elf-hunting, I primarily focus on the Sindar Elves, but look I can't resist my problematic Feanorian faves or that I will die on the hill that Fingolfin is the best ever. (You have NO IDEA how sad I am that so much fic on Stories of Arda or FFNET is not easily bookmarked on AO3, sob. I externally bookmarked a few of the bigger ones, but sooo many shorter faves are missing from my recs tag.)

CLAMP: - X/Tokyo Babylon legitimately bums me out because it's not a huge fandom and yet so much of what was written was pre-AO3 and lost when CLAMPesque went down or was never brought over from Livejournal, yet this fandom (well, the Seishirou/Subaru pairing) still burns brightly in my heart.

BOOKS: Chrestomanci | Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

DRAMAS: Nirvana in Fire | The Untamed -OR- Modao Zu Shi

VIDEO GAMES: Dragon Age: Inquisition | Final Fantasy 8 | Genshin Impact | Okami

BANDS: Arashi

All right, whew, that was actually a fun project, despite how much work it was to hunt down a lot of older faves to see if they were on AO3, hopefully you'll find this useful!

#lumi.txt #fic recs #star wars fic recs #batman fic recs

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burningcheese-merchant · 30 days ago

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"Attractive" - BurningCheese Short Story #2

I was going to finish and post this at night after work, but someone came to me and told me something so lovely that I felt compelled to do it now, while this big grin on my face is still giving me strength. Hope this puts a smile on everyone's faces too, but theirs especially.

So here's a BurningCheese short before I go back to work again. Special thanks to straightplankton, hope this makes your day like your message made mine :)

"Little birdie," Burning Spice called to her, "do you find me attractive?" "To find something implies that it already existed before I laid eyes upon it," Golden Cheese said. "I don't find anything about you because there is nothing there." "Is that so?" Burning Spice asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and giving her a smirk. "Then why did I catch you looking over me?" "When has that ever happened?" Golden Cheese asked, annoyed. "When we first met," Burning Spice answered. "Every so often, when we're together." His smirk grew. "Just now, as we sit and wind down from our duel." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Seems like I may have hit your head with my spear too hard and it's rattled your brain." "On the contrary, pretty bird. You hit me just right. In fact, I wouldn't say no to you hitting me even harder next time." "Hmph! Regardless, I haven't been looking at you! I never have and I never will!" "If you say so."

Back to tending to their wounds in silence the two of them went (although now, a certain frustration colored Golden Cheese's face and influenced her movements as she worked). But as they both did so, as Golden Cheese repressed a wince while rubbing medicinal ointment into the deep cut Burning Spice had carved into her forearm with his axe, she found her mind and eyes wandering off again - away from herself and to the man sitting a ways away from her, who was quiet and focusing on something besides being a bloodthirsty buffoon for once in his miserable life.

She watched for just a moment as he wrapped a bandage around his hand, over the stab wound in his palm where she had swatted his axe away with her spear and impaled him. It was... interesting to see him like this: eyebrows knit, the corners of his mouth pulled in a slight frown, the fire in his eyes that always burned bright and wild now a low simmer. Just one moment, seeing him like this, before she turned her attention back to her arm. Just one moment, where she let her curiosity get the better of her. Just one. No more.

...Until she defied her better judgment again and shot another quick glance at him while she bandaged her arm. At the splash of blood painting his cheek a darker red than his skin (whose it was, she wasn't sure). At the strands of jet black hair still dutifully framing his face; still curling around his ears and along his jaw like they always did.

Back at her arm when she thought she saw him glancing back at her from the corner of his eye.

Nothing she did really put a stop to this... strange compulsion of hers. No amount of particular, narrow-eyed focus on her injuries kept her from eventually looking back at his own. No amount of pain and discomfort brought by cleaning and dressing her many wounds distracted her from the oddly stoic expression he wore as he did the same to himself. No amount of internal scolding or self-criticism shielded her from the repeated sight of... the dark tattoos circling his biceps. His strong chest, decorated with those same foreign tattoos, the Light of Destruction glinting in the harsh sunlight at the very center. The beads of sweat trickling down his face, down that chest... down those well-toned abs that she remembers being harder than stone (or so the bruises on her knuckles liked to remind her every time she looked at them).

...Very strange compulsion, indeed. Perhaps these duels of theirs were getting to her. Fighting so hard for so long must be worse for her mind than she'd originally assumed. He calls her "thief", and yet here he comes at least once a month to steal not only her time and patience, but apparently a bit of her sanity, as well. Such audacity... She'd almost commend it, if it wasn't so infuriating.

Just as she was about to silently congratulate herself for her good first-aid work and for not peeping at Burning Spice for longer than five minutes, a faint groan reached her ears and drew her away from her freshly dressed arms and legs and back to that accursed Beast. Burning Spice was now sitting up straight, letting out a soft sigh as he stretched... as he flexed his ridiculously strong arms, as he puffed out his chest, as he bent a little backwards in such a way as if to show off his abdomen. The sun's rays seemed to go out of their way to wrap themselves around him - to bejewel him, almost, in how they shone upon him. In how they drew special attention to the contours of all those strong, thick muscles. In how they helped cast little shadows that contrasted so well against his skin, in all the right places. In how it made the Soul Jam embedded in his chest, right where his heart was, gleam and glow like a star itself.

Golden Cheese could feel her face growing hotter the longer she stared. Her mouth hung slightly agape. Her mouth felt dry. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't look away. She was trapped.

And then he turned his head and looked her straight in the eye, and flashed her the biggest, happiest, most smug and satisfied grin she'd ever seen him give.

"Made you look~"

She responded to him by grabbing a handful of sand and chucking it straight at his handsome annoying face.

#burningcheese #goldenspice #cookie run kingdom #golden cheese cookie #burning spice cookie #merchant shorts

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jensky2000 · 4 months ago

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In case you haven't heard, I started a new fanfic on AO3. It's a WIP. The first 5 chapters are posted. More to come in two weeks. (or less.) A wee peek below ⬇️ (Readers can attest. Nothing is what it seems in this story.)

"I Love Her First"

In a small three block radius in Glasgow, Scotland, Claire owns a flower shop and Jamie is a firefighter. Claire and Jamie are best friends and roommates. Claire is in a relationship with Frank. Jamie is happily single. Claire and Jamie's friendship is different than most, but it works for them. When things progress with her and Frank, Jamie has to admit to his real feelings before it's too late.

Chapter 1 "The Firefighter"

I set both slow cookers to low. It will be ready before dinner break with plenty of time to spare. I can see everything from the top floor of the firehouse. The sun is well over the horizon. The shops are open, and a few people meander along the street. Howie, Mr. Johnson’s son, parks in the fire lane in front of his father’s shop. He has been warned a dozen times for that. Agnes across the street waters her flower boxes. She lets them overflow while she waits to catch a glimpse of Mr. Johnson. Her neighbor will complain about the puddles on the sidewalk. It’s a very quiet and predictable neighborhood. Quiet is good and it has been all night. The rest of my crew are sleeping. I have an hour before dayshift shows up. I make myself comfortable on the couch and flip through the channels. My phone buzzes next to me. I tap on the screen. My roommate.

Claire: Sorry I used the last of the milk for my coffee. Could you maybe pick some up on your way home. Please. You know I hate shopping for food. Also Frank is picking me up at the shop for an early dinner before he leaves.

Jamie: I will pick up milk and anything else we need. Send me a list. Have fun with Frank.

Have fun with Frank. Frank and fun do not belong in the same sentence. She loves him. And she’s my best friend and roommate so of course I need to be supportive. Frank and Claire have been together since our final year at Uni. Frank is older. She met him at a party. Ironically the one party Claire went without me. I was on a date. If I was there, things would have played out differently. I would have steered Claire away from Frank. It’s not that I don’t like him. Not at all. He’s fine. He’s just Frank. She can do much better.

Claire: You’re the best. See you later.

Hm. I drop the phone next to me and find a mindless show to pass the time.

I must have dozed off because before I know it I hear the banging of the lockers downstairs. “Jamie, my boy. You’ve done it again. Smells incredible. What is it?” Dougal, the fire chief, deep voice echoes in the quiet lounge.

“My Ma’s beef stew. I may have tweaked the recipe. Threw in some extra spices.” I stretch and look at my watch. “In 7 hours turn the knob to ‘keep warm’. You’ll be all set to eat.”

He searches the counter. “Did you make the biscuits too?”

“Aye. They’re in the fridge with instructions.”

“Ah you’ve done good, kid. Now get out of here.” He pats me on the back. I take one step towards the door and the alarm blasts. Dougal rushes to his office. I follow him and lean against the door frame.

He looks up from the screen. “Fire at Sullivans Bakery. We got this. Go.”

“You sure?”

“Go. You need your sleep.” He waves me off. I grab my things and run down the back stairs to stay out of the way. The sirens blare loud enough to alert the whole neighborhood and surrounding ones too. I head in the direction of the flat that Claire and I have shared for the past four years. It’s three blocks from the firehouse. I stop at the corner store to pick up milk and a few other things. My phone buzzes. Another text from Claire reminding me to feed DB. Our cat. Claire named him David Beckham. I quickly shortened it to DB. I climb the stairs to our top floor flat and open the door. Immediately I feel stifled. Claire likes it a balmy 74 degrees year-round. I on the other hand prefer it frigid. I lower the temp and climb into bed with the tv remote..

Hours later, I wake to the sound of my alarm. The remote sits on the bed next to me. I was asleep before I even had a chance to watch the morning news. The tv hums quietly on the wall across from me. I scroll through the channels. Station after station no mention of the early morning fire at the bakery. It’s in the other direction of Claire’s flower shop so no worries there. I pick up my phone. A bunch of missed texts. Claire sent me a picture of a flower arrangement. She does that when she’s particularly proud of one. A text from Rupert going into great detail about the fire this morning. Electrical. Everyone is safe. That’s the important part. Another text from Chloe canceling our plans for tonight. Time to get up. I shower, throw on a t-shirt and gym shorts. DB naps comfortably on the windowsill. I order a pizza. Half pepperoni. Half plain.

I settle on the couch with the pizza on the coffee table and beer in my hand. The doorknob wiggles. Claire. She always has trouble with the lock. I hear voices. She didn’t bring Frank here, did she? She wouldn’t do that. Not since last time and that disaster. She pushes the door open and quickly closes it. She’s alone. I can relax.

She whispers, “Mrs. Cook is such a talker. I lied and said I wasn’t feeling well to get away.” She looks at the pizza then back to me. “Why are you here?”

“Pfft. Hello to you too, Claire.” I take a swig of beer and take in her outfit for the first time. Sleeveless, tight black dress emphasizing her generous curves, bare legs. I quickly focus on something else before she catches me.

She throws her bag on the counter. “Tsk. You’re cranky.”

“My date canceled.”

“What was her name again?”

I grunt. “Chloe.”

“Aw. Why did she cancel?” She sits next to me on the couch.

“She didn’t say. It was a second date. No big deal. I wasn’t that into her.”

“That’s right. She was the low talker. Played with her hair too much.”

“Mm hm.” I reach forward to take another slice of pepperoni and offer her a slice of plain. She takes it happily. Her tongue moistens her lips after the first bite. She groans and leans forward to see the top of the box. Her dress rides a little higher. Now I’m licking my lips. She hums, “Antonio’s. You went all out tonight.”

She settles in next to me. We sit shoulder to shoulder. “How’s Frank?” I ask because I should.

“Frank. He’s good.” She takes a bite and snuggles closer. I glance at the goosebumps on her thighs. The air is too cold. That will be the next thing she says. “What’s the temperature in here?”

“Don’t you worry about that.” I mumble and close the pizza box. I stretch my legs out on the coffee table, and she does the same. I follow the lines of her long legs. “Frank was ok with you wearing those?” I point to her strappy black stilettos.

“No. Of course he wasn’t. I was eyeball to eyeball with him. I might have been even a little taller. Whatever. They look cute with the dress.”

“Mm hm.” I agree and laugh at something on tv.

“Oh shit. I just remembered what I wanted to tell you!” She grabs my forearm. “Frank wants to get a tattoo. Can you believe it?”

“Uh no. Frank. Christ no. What and where?”

“The symbol for doctors. Whatever they call that…on his bicep. He’ll never go through with it.” She shrugs. “It’s a pity. I do think they’re sexy.”

“You do?”

“Oh yea. Major turn on.”

“Really? Do you think I should get one?”

She twists her body to face mine. “Hm. I think one right here would be hot.” She places her hand on my left pec and squeezes. “Your fire station number or truck. Flames. Or…” She traces a design with her fingertip. I grab her wrist and kiss the inside.

Her breath catches. “Jamie.”

“Claire.” I hold her gaze.

“What are you thinking?” She bats her lashes.

“I’m thinking my date cancelled. Frank’s gone. It’s still early. I thought maybe we could…” I waggle my eyebrows.

She holds back a smile. “I mean we’ve already seen all the latest releases on Netflix.”

“True. And you’ve been stressed with work and such.” I toy with the hem of her skirt.

“It does relax me. Will you go down on me?”

“Aye. If you like…” My cock twitches.

“I like.” She giggles. I stretch my neck and ask for her mouth. She holds up her finger. “Ah ah. You know the rules. No kissing.”

“Claire.” She has all these stupid rules. No kissing. No sleeping in the same bed. Not during the day. She used to make me shut the lights too. I got that one overturned. I want to see her.

“Jamie.” She gives me a stern look.

“Fine. Take your panties off.”

She stands before me and raises her dress. Tiny black lace panties. A scrap of fabric. A thrill runs through me knowing Frank hadn’t a clue what his lass had on under her dress. But I do. Fuck I do. I salivate knowing what comes next. She pushes them over her hips. I slide to the floor and rest my head back on the cushions.

“Sit on my face, Claire.” My voice is hoarse with desire. She straddles me and lowers her body until she meets my mouth. I have the best view in Glasgow. No. The world. She holds onto the back of the couch and rides my face. I’m relentless. I want her to come and quick because I’m aching for my turn. I clasp onto her hips and double my efforts. She calls out. Nothing incoherent either. She’s very clear. My name followed by instructions. It’s a major turn on. I don’t care if the whole building can hear us. Yeah our neighbors suspect something. Frank doesn’t. That’s all the matters. Because if he found out I fuck his girlfriend, she would end this. And that cannot happen.

“Oh God, Jamie. Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.” She holds my head in place as she comes all over my chin. I lick up every last drop. She moans. “Christ. You’re so good at that….”

I pant, “Get down here and ride me.”

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” She moistens her lips. I’m tempted. Very tempted.

“Next time. You’re tight and soaking wet. I want to be in you.” I push my gym shorts down. My cock springs free. “Get on.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Condom.” I open the coffee table drawer and she takes one out of the small box hidden in the back. We learned a long time ago to keep them close by. She rips the wrapper off with her teeth and covers my cock. She lowers herself down taking me whole. My head rolls back. I pull her dress off and undo her bra. She likes to stay covered. I’m not having it. I like her breasts bouncing in my face.

"Did you feed remember to feed DB?" She changes her angle. Christ.

I grunt. "Yes. I fed him."

"I'm worried about him. He's moving slower than normal." She pants as she picks up the pace.

"He seems fine to me."

“Jamie.”

“What?”

“I’m going to come again.” She bucks her hips furiously.

“Ok, so?”

“I didn’t want to catch you off guard. Then you’ll get excited and it will end too soon. You hate that.” She never stops riding me. We’ve gotten very good at having full conversations while fucking.

“I do. But contrary to what you think, I do know when you’re close. There’s no catching me off guard.”

“You know?”

“Aye. Your walls squeeze my cock so tight sometimes I think you are going to break it off.” I smirk. “There’s other signs too.”

“Like what?”

Careful. “Other stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“You make noises.” And your face has the sweetest, sexiest expression sometimes I think about it when I’m not with you, and I get hard.

“I do not.” She pouts. It’s too cute. I lift her up and slam her down. My balls are getting tight.

“Oh aye. And loud too.”

“Do I feel like I’m close now?”

“No. But I can make you.” I bite my lip and sit up straight until her legs spread wider. I take her nipple in my mouth and suck hard. She whimpers and her head rolls back. That’s it. There we go.

“Oh Jamie. Yes.”

“You’re tight and very close. Ride me and we’ll come together.” And she does. My balls ache. She’s going to have rug burn at this rate. “That’s it, lass.”

She frowns.

“I mean, Claire.” I give her a tight smile. She laughs. It does something. It vibrates through her. Through me. There we go. Her mouth pops open. I’m tempted to kiss her. As I always am. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s only natural. I slam her down one last time. We both call out. I can almost hear our neighbors cursing us out.

I rest my head on her shoulder while we catch our breath. She goes to pull away. I bite her. “Jamie! Let go.”

I release my grip. She stands and walks away still wearing her stilettos. I watch from the living room floor. She’s right. It’s never long enough and I hate it. She tosses me a box of tissues and a water bottle before she enters her bedroom. Minutes later I hear her shower running. I would join her if this was more than sex but it’s not.

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