#a period piece but with a twist

[dulcewrites]

I’m always super curious about how myrah and cassandra would be remembered in f&b, and then portrayed in the show.

I would like to think myrah would be more clear cut. It is a love story at the heart of it. But I think her status would make the way she spoken about murky. Lots of rumors about why Aemond would marry her… as if she’s some troll or something lol. But at the end of the day, that’s the people’s princess 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

Now Cassandra… I have a feeling she’d be called anything but a child of god in the book 😭☹️. Then her story (the marriage, the cheating, how she feels about her kids etc) would be fleshed out in show and give some background

[aubadeduflamek]

Fate steps in and sees you through

[skyeconch]

“Please marry me.”

“I will.”

“Can you wait for me?”

“Even if it takes a hundred years.”

[spacespheal]

I love the Magift outfit! So cute!! (Also leg straps are always a great choice.)

[goblinpuppy35]

David Thewlis

The Artful Dodger (TV series) - 2023

Part 6/6

[myfanfictiongarden]

Finished watching The Artful Dodger and, honestly?

I need a season 2. Pronto.

[madmoviemark]

Oliver Twist (1948) Review - When Oliver Twist (John Howard Davies) is born his mother gives birth to him in a work house and then sadly passes away. Oliver grows up poor and is forced to move to a place where he is picked on by another child. Oliver escapes and is invited into the seedy criminal underworld. Will Oliver be able to escape his plight or is he doomed to a life of poverty and crime? You'll have to tune in to find out!

[imagitory]

I personally see the new Haunted Mansion movie as leagues better than the 2003 version and thus wouldn’t lump them together in any comparison...but regardless, I actually think this is kind of a false equivalency.

Yes, the Haunted Mansion and Pirates of the Caribbean are both very popular Disney theme park rides that were turned into films. But in truth, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl was actually much less committed to that “bit” from the get-go. 

It is a pirate movie, yes -- but really, it has f***-all to do with the ride that inspired it. Prior to the parks going back and adding more movie iconography to the ride to better tie the two properties together, the Pirates of the Caribbean ride and films were completely different in plot, characters, and tone. The original ride was set up with we the riders seeing the skeletons of pirates surrounded by gold they can’t spend or enjoy, before we go back in time to the Golden Age of Piracy and see pirates acting out and being terrible and ending up locked up, imprisoned, and trapped in a city that’s about to burn to the ground and get blown up and that we the riders only just barely escape. There really wasn’t that much that was glamorous about piracy, on the original ride. We don’t see any characters we really want to follow or aspire to be like. But Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl was really more a tribute to the old-fashioned, swashbuckling pirate movies of days past with elements of the Disney ride thrown in for spice, such as the iconic song and nods to jokes like the skeleton drinking a whole bottle of wine or the dog holding a ring of keys. It was a lot more “adult,” humor, gore, and tone-wise, than the ride. It was much more quirky and off-beat in its comedy than the ride. It was much less moralizing than the original ride -- au contraire, it sympathizes with most of its pirate characters, which the original ride never did. And I love the movie for it! I love that it did its own thing so well to the point that you can’t accuse it of disrespecting the original ride! If anything, it ended up making the ride better in a lot of ways, by giving a different slant on the legacy of the pirate mythos based on how we as a society and our views of pirates and heroes and villains overall have changed. It shows pirates that are dangerous and filthy and lawless, but it also makes them largely likeable and sympathetic.

In the 2003 Haunted Mansion film’s case, it -- like Curse of the Black Pearl -- kind of does its own thing with its own tone, characters, and story while only referencing elements of the original ride here and there...but it also never set out to be a PG-13 tribute to classic horror or anything. Instead it seems like the filmmakers honestly kind of wanted it to be like one of those 90′s movies like Hook or The Santa Clause where you have a workaholic dad who gets swept up in this vaguely magical/otherworldly kind of experience with his family and has to better learn to appreciate the love around him through his experience. I personally don’t like that approach at all, to the point that I do think it disrespected the original ride -- but I know other people do. But The Haunted Mansion (2003) certainly didn’t do as well with audiences or at the box office with that approach so divorced from its subject matter as CoBP did.

Looking at the new Haunted Mansion movie from earlier this year, however...it wasn’t trying to do its own thing, the way the 2003 film or CoBP did. It was clearly intended to be a loving homage and tribute to Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion ride. Yes, it features new characters, and yes, it has some new interpretations of some of the Mansion ride’s current cast like the Hatbox Ghost, Constance Hatchaway, Master Gracey, and Madame Leota -- but the movie embraced the Gothic, beautiful, creepy, darkly comedic, but still family-friendly tone of the original ride INFINITELY more than either of the other two films discussed previously did their respective rides. The new Haunted Mansion doesn’t shy away from the themes of death, grief, loss, and pain -- it’s the core focus of the plot and just about all of the major characters’ story arcs. It doesn’t make the Mansion a place these ghosts wouldn’t want to stay in, or make it a place you yourself wouldn’t want to explore. The original Haunted Mansion, as depicted by Disneyland and Walt Disney World’s theme park rides, is a place where 999 happy haunts CHOSE to rest in, and the movie embraces that. (Contrasted to the 2003 film where all the ghosts are happy to leave it at the end and never return, leaving it an Un-haunted Mansion, sorry, I’ll always be salty about that.)

Haunted Mansion (2023) wasn’t trying to be like Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl -- if it was, I daresay we would’ve ended up with a more adult-geared horror film a la Crimson Peak. And while I can totally understand wanting that movie, I personally really appreciate the approach that respected what people originally loved about the ride. Because unlike with the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, I don’t think the Haunted Mansion ride needed as much retrospection through a modern lens. Its themes of finding humor in death and finding joy in what should be pain and sadness are timeless -- no more “adult,” cheeky, clever, nuanced spin was needed. And just because the filmmakers understood that doesn’t mean that their film “wasn’t committed to the bit.” They just chose to be more committed to the ride’s original themes and tone than to your idea of what a haunted house movie should be like.

[adlibitur]

i feel like people can even be in my life for a long period and still not seem to understand certain priorities and values I have and that surprises me quite a lot.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it. 

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something. 

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken. 

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel." 

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for. 

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge. 

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" 

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration. 

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring. 

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me." 

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you. 

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch. 

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708. 

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda. 

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.” 

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.” 

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?” 

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.” 

“Miguel, what the fuck—” 

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.” 

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?” 

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.” 

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?” 

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?” 

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal. 

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count. 

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you. 

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side. 

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat. 

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste. 

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core. 

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo." 

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass. 

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had. 

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

[skelly-words]

sneaking into a witch’s garden to steal something and her vines fertilize you 😩😩 (this sentence is crazy bruh)

wait til she finds you in the morning and fucks you with her huge dick

NSFW, Minors DNI (18+ obv)

TAGS: non-con monsterfucking, vines/plants, aphrodisiac, ovi, all holes, futanari, this is so cursed lol, also a period piece ig

WC- 1.1k

You're hungry. The kind of starving that makes you ask the grocers at the market for vegetable scraps, lift bread loaves out of unattended baskets, and hop the ten-foot cobblestone wall into your neighbor's garden.

You feel like an idiot as soon as you make it into the witch's yard. Nobody ever got away with stealing from her, yet here you were, shivering in the frigid winter twilight, inching across her frosted lawn to the brightly lit greenhouse.

The heavy glass doors barely creak and you're almost sucked in by the humid air. The empty gurgle in your gut makes you press on through the rows of plants, looking for something edible or incredible to make off with.

You search the entire greenhouse before making the mistake of sniffing at her rose bushes. They smell sweet, much less harsh and organic than a normal rose. You sniff deeply into the blossom as it pushed against your nose.

Your mind is gone after that first inhale. The careful brambles shred your clothes, letting the rags fall to the dirt while they carefully wrap around your body. The rosebuds drip with a sweet syrup. It leaks into the seam of your mouth, making you lick out to taste it, to suckle the nectar from the buds until you're drowning in it.

You've been completely pulled into the rose bushes now, so tangled in the tenacious little plant that you couldn't get out if you wanted to. You drink down whatever the bud gives you, even as the sticky liquid makes you gasp and choke. More of the buds press to the corner of your mouth, smearing the substance across your jaw and neck, some drop lower, opening their petals to suckle on your swollen nipples. You haven't noticed how heavy your breasts have gotten. The tight binding of the vines had to adjust so the hungry rosebuds could suck on your fat tits.

Milk spurts out of you as the vines squish and squeeze at your heaving chest. You can hardly breathe. Something is in the syrup, making your mind numb and skin tingle as it smears on your sensitive body. Globs of sticky nectar drip onto your clit so it twitches and throbs as a greedy bud latches onto it. Your hips buck, bumping into a bundle of slender stamen that prod at your entrance. They move with your hips to work your pussy open. The tendrils twist their way into your tight hole and slowly expand. The sucker on your clit helps your muscles relax, but the demanding stretch is too much.

You groan loudly, parting your lips to pant as the fibers pry your cunt apart. The blossom at your lips forces its way deeper, sliding over your tongue, dripping down your throat, snaking its way so deep you can't taste the sweetness of the syrup its pumping into you.

Suddenly, the stretch isn't so bad anymore and you moan, sounding more like a gurgle around the obstruction. You can feel them exploring your insides. The stamen probe at your cervix, getting as deep as possible before turning you into a proper seed bed. It slowly starts to pump you full of spawn, feeding eggs into your cunt with thick spurts of the rose nectar. Your eyes roll back as the band in your belly tightens. It snaps as the effects of the drugged plant take over. Your pussy tingles, walls clenching, squishing the eggs and juice in as you cum. Pathetic dribbles leak down your thighs as the mess sprays out of you.

Streams of milk lead from your nipples, pooling beneath each breast. You're leaking too fast for the rosebuds to suckle up. Time seems to move slow, or fast. You don't really know, counting the eggs being shoved into you instead of the minutes. At least your tummy is full now. You've been well fed by the vine lodged in your throat.

The witch finds you in the morning when she comes to garden. You're so tucked away in the vines, she would've missed you if not for the sound. You're squishing and sloshing from being so stuffed full by her naughty flora.

"Looks like my rosehips like you, they've made you into a perfect seedbed. It's kinda kismet because I've been meaning to propagate them." She grabs your hips, wrenching you halfway out of the bush to look at what the plant has done to you. "The rosehips only care about breeding, so it's left your cute little ass all empty."

Her finger swirls through your drooling folds before dipping lower and sinking into your butt. You're so tight, already squirming around one little finger. She palms her cock with her other hand as she fucks you open on her fingers. Slick drips down from your cunt to help lube up your hole. You watch her black skirt start to lift as she gets harder. Her dripping tip starts to poke from the beneath the hem as she grows. Thick semen runs from the blunt head of her horsecock. She lets it land in your cunt, left gaping by the twenty six eggs the rose has planted in you.

The witch only puts two fingers in your ass before forcing her dick in. She grunts and huffs, grip on your hips only growing tighter with each stunted thrust. You're strung out on the aphrodisiac being fed down your throat. You've been drinking it all night long, more full than you've been in months. The fat cockhead catches on your rim each time she pulls back, you clench and twitch around her, squeezing the life out of her dick.

You take it all, sucking all thirteen inches into your puckering hole. She rolls her hips against yours, mesmerized by how your your cunt twitches and tightens as she fucks you. She's so big and pent up, so it doesn’t take long for her to release, cumming deep in your guts as her balls pump her sticky spunk into you.

You hardly control your body anymore, murmuring weakly as you squirt on the witch's dick. She keeps a punishing pace and you love it. The rough drag of her throbbing cock makes your muscles tense and squeeze. She tugs the bud away from your left tit, leaning down to suck on your abused nipple.

"Your milk's sweet. Taste it." She suckles from you again and spits it between your lips, already left open by the vine, but you can taste the milk as it hits your tongue. It's so good, you're almost jealous she gets to drink it. She mouths at your breast, giving kitten licks to the liquid beading on your cute brown nubs.

You’re making such a mess of cum on her stomach as she leans over you. The overstimulation is hard to register from how hazy your mind’s become. Your clit pulses from being sucked on all night, spasming again whenever she has you at the fullest. She has your ass so stuffed it makes your eyes cross and the stamen are trying to push another egg in you. Every orgasm wrecks you, cresting tears over your cheeks as she keeps her lips pressed around your chest to nurse from you.

Not many people are stupid enough to steal from the witch anymore, and her cock gets so painfully hard when she doesn’t have a slut like you to take care of it. She takes out all of her frustration on your poor virgin ass. You’re so ruined now, only able to cum and spread your legs more because that’s all the aphrodisiac allows you to think about.

you’ve lost count of how many eggs are in your sticky cunt, always being given more and more as you adjust. Your butt is stretched so much by her swollen length that she’s trained you to take her whenever she wants. Your rim easily swallows up her fingers, tongue, or dick, sometimes dildos, whatever she felt like watching you squirt on.

The witch’s cock keeps you plugged up every morning. It's the only routine you can seem to keep track of these days. Oh well, who knows why you came here in the first place anyway?

A/n- i wrote this in one sitting (it’s noticeable)

new tentacle au idea, thoughts?

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 7:

Summary: Your escape from Joker doesn't go unnoticed, and you bear the consequences of attracting the attention of the bats.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

----

Burning green blinded him, searing his veins and twisting. His very breath was strained, broken and turning into what he could only describe as boiling rage.

He did the only thing he could do.

Murder the clown.

Strike after strike bore down upon the clown’s heaving body, his guns left behind on the floor, long forgotten. Any little trick up the clown's sleeve was swiftly discarded by Jason’s primal force.

The clown’s leg was held in his gloved hands, he twisted, pulling and pulling until there was an abrupt snap. The other leg was subject to the whims of his iron toe boots, breaking under the pressure.

He itched and burned to do more, fists turning into a flurry of blows upon the now unconscious clown. The clown could still cry out in pain, and that satisfied him.

Jason kept going, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not until he wrapped his hands around and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and the clown finally popped.

Jason let out a breath, hands forming into an instinctive fist and aimed, until hands wrapped around his arms to pull him back.

He struggled, trying to jab out with his elbow to no avail. A voice interrupted the Green, calling out to him.

“Jason! Jason, come on!” The voice called out, demanding and desperate and somehow just enough for him to break through.

“Steph…?” He mumbled, regaining focus of the world around him. There was blood on his gloves.. his boots too. 

The clown as if a train had run him over- several times. Every part of his face was bruised, green, purple and black. His limbs were in no better shape, twisted and broken into pieces that seemed like agony for doctors to put back together.

He didn't envy Joker’s recovery period.

“Shit..” Batgirl muttered, at his side. “Batman won't be happy about this.” 

“Fuck Batman.” Was his instinctive response.

“Indeed..” She replied. “Well… I’ll take him back to Arkham, or actually, to the nearest doctor that won’t try to finish him off. Cass?”

A sudden movement in the shadow (that definitely didn't make Jason jump) revealed Cass, as she walked closer, a golden cage in one of her hands and Jason’s soul form in the other.

“Hurt.” Cass stated, pointing down at his soul form. Jason whistled, looking at the damage. 

His soul form had always been a durable little thing, no doubt a result of his own upbringing, but this amount of damage was definitely rare. The bird’s wings were twisted, a sign that they were broken, and its breaths were slightly ragged, indicating some internal injuries.

It’d be alright, ultimately. Soul animals healed much faster than humans, as a result of them being magic. 

He was mostly just glad he had bond distancing training, feeling those injuries wouldn't be fun at all. There was a dull pain in his back already, no doubt a result of his soul form’s injuries.

He sighed, kicking at the clown a bit as he did so. “Well that’s a problem.” 

“Your soul animal shouldn't be out of the cave Hood, how did it get here?” Batgirl spoke, turning to look at Orphan, as the hero unlocked the cage a bat was glooming in.

“And how did Bats get here either? Out of all of us, he's had the best training, his soul animal should know the most about how important it is to our identities for them to not leave.” Batgirl frowned, confusion painted on her face.

Batman’s soul animal flitted up to rest on Orphan’s shoulder, a vision of silent solitude. Orphan gave it a little scritch on its ears.

Jason paused, considering how to word what he was about to say. The Green had mostly cleared up, but it still fogged him a little, especially as he thought of the scene he witnessed.

“There was a civilian, Joker’s victim. Tied to a chair and about to be smashed on the head by a crowbar. My soul animal appeared and took the hit.” He stuck to the facts, they were wasting too much time as is. Damn, if not for the pit rage he could have found them by now!

Batgirl gasped. Orphan shifted a little. “Wait, do you think..?” Batgirl struggled to voice the question, knowing how much it meant to them all.

“Yes.” Jason answered, blunt. “That was our soulmate.”

Abrupt movement from the window interrupted their shock, as Red Robin swooped in with a brisk move. 

“Hey.” Red Robin called out, taking in their depressed faces. He paused. “What happened?”

—-

You were not having a good night. Your head hurt, your feet ached, and you would basically give anything at this point to get back home and collapse on your bed. Nothing had gone the way you had hoped for. In fact, it was now the absolute worst case scenario, other than being dead.

Now you have been exposed to two of your soulmates, potentially all of them now if they were feeling like sharing that information.

Oh and of course, you couldn't forget the Joker. Your newly acquired head injury certainly wouldn't be forgetting about it anytime soon.

You groaned, the world before you turning into brief spinning fuzz, as you trudged on. 

“Why me…” You muttered, narrowly avoiding stepping in some rain water. You walked through an alleyway, vaguely guessing the direction of your house. In all honesty, you had barely the slightest inkling of where you were at this point, but you had to try.

The shadows behind you stirred, and you whipped around, making eye contact with one of your worst nightmares. Nightwing.

You shifted backwards, aiming to run away, but he caught onto the fleeing posture of your stance.

“Hey! Hey, calm down.” He spoke reassuringly, as if he was talking to a scared citizen. “I'm not going to hurt you. The inmates of Arkham Asylum have broken out, and it's not safe to be roaming the streets right now.”

He smiled, a charming little gesture, and held a hand out to you. “I can take you home, you'll be safer indoors.”

You shook your head, words failing to escape in your fear of this new problem.

He frowned. “I’m sorry but, I'm going to have to insist. It's really not safe. I’d hate for you to get hurt.” He perked up a little as he spoke the next few words. “Are you injured? I know someone who can help, her name is Leslie, she's a very safe doctor. Or if you don't have anywhere to go, I can escort you to a safe place?”

You shook your head desperately. You wanted nothing more than to get away. Your legs were shaking.

Any further time spent in the presence of your soulmates was a risk. At any point one of them could tell him and you'd be doomed. Hell, he might already know!  

“I… I want to leave.” The words tumbled out, clumsy. “But not with you.”

The smile stayed on his face this time, plastered on. “It won’t be an inconvenience-” He tried.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It's really unsaf-”.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It will only take five-”.

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE!” You screamed, frustration and agony eclipsing into a fearful shout. You regretted it immediately, as it echoed through the streets. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your breath ran short.

Nightwing stood there, finally looking unsure. A part of you reveled in it, finally seeing how you always felt around them reflected on their form.

A fluttering sound broke the uncomfortable silence, a little robin flying down onto Nightwing’s shoulder.

“Robin..?” He muttered, more to himself than you. “Why are you here?”.

You meant to take the opportunity for what it was, to turn and run while you had the chance, but beady eyes turned towards you at the first movement you made.

Robin fluttered towards you, landing on your trembling hand. It gave a little coo, tilting its head a bit to stare at you. It seemed like it noticed your anxiety. It was admittedly a very cute gesture, something that acted like a balm to your scratched and raw mental state, but it didn't last for long.

“Wait…”. 

Your blood froze in your veins. Everything stopped.

“Are… are you…?”

You couldn't respond to his question. Your head spun, an undercurrent of anxiety questioning every option you could make. Your shakes increased. It was noticeable.

“Ah, hey!” It seemed he spotted it. “Don’t worry so much, I know you're so terrified because of what's going on, but now I know I can keep you safe.” His hands grabbed yours, a constricting grip. You tried to take a step back, but he kept you there, not budging from his grasp. Robin shifted a little in displeasure.

“We… can keep you safe.” His eyes beamed into yours, trying to convey a feeling of safety, of reassurance.

You were numb to everything but terror.

“I've told you this once.” You muttered. “And I didn't want to say it again.” You ripped his hands from yours, pushing him away. You grabbed Robin.

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!” You screamed, primal agony laced in your tone, your last efforts giving out.

Then, in a moment of desperation, you grabbed Robin, your littlest soul animal. And you threw him at Nightwing’s face.

His startled scream was music to your ears, as you raced out of the alleyway and down the street. If you were lucky, maybe Robin would be startled enough to give him a few scratches.

Things were finally, finally looking up. It had taken a lot. Gosh, it has taken so much from you. You couldn't go home anymore, both vigilante and villain now knew your name, but at the very least…

You could escape.

It was a mantra you chanted to yourself.

“I can escape. I can escape. I can escape.”

It remained in your brain as you ducked under windows and hid behind cars.

I can escape I can escape I can escape.

A slip of blue in the shadows was your only warning, before cruel pain pierced your arm. 

“Ack!” You clutched at it, noticing what could only be a dart now embedded in you. You ripped it out as you ran, hoping that would be it.

IcanescapeIcanescapeIcanescape-

The world started falling to pieces before your very eyes, a black void stealing the places of buildings, cars, wherever you looked.

Your rush turned into a stumble.

Escape-escape-escape-

You were limping through an alleyway when your limbs finally gave up on you. The adrenaline finally losing to the tranquiliser.

“Escape…” You mumbled.

You glanced up.

A dark shadow was the only thing you could see. A giant figure, clad in a long cape.

A resentful part of you thought that the cape would be a rather warm thing to snuggle up to.

A hand reached out from the darkness.

You passed out.

----

Happy Halloween!!

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Actually, there won't be too many chapters left now, we're coming to the end of Reader's struggle. Ofc, I will be going extra's that aren't actual chapters, and they'll have some extra details that are excluded from Reader's pov.

Also, I definitely have to apologise for how long this one took. I do have my reasons! Had an ear infection, then a holiday (that was pretty neat actually) and currently I have COVID lol. So I was a bit busy there.

But Halloween deserves to be celebrated just as much as everyone deserves another chapter, so here you go!

It is a bit of a shame I won't be able to make an actual Halloween piece. Maybe I'll make something a few days after Halloween? How do people feel about a coraline inspired DC oneshot?

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger

@sociallyakwardpanda @imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu @snowy-violet @nommingonfood @yandere-enthusiast @nb-babygirl @demonqueen-1 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @winter67890-blog

Tumblr just told me I can't tag anyone else, so the list ends here. I'll add the others in a comment!

[skyeconch]

“I want you. I want you right now. I want you here. I want you in my bed. I want you tomorrow. And I want you the next day. Do you feel how I need you?”

An Offer From A Gentleman by Julia Quinn

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Pile: Your Future Fashion Choice +Love interest and Lifestyle. [Girls Edition]

Top Left to Right= Pile 1->Pile 2. Bottom Left to Right= Pile 3->Pile4.

Introduction

Pick one of the Images above and you will receive some outfits inspo that will suit you the best in the future. You will also receive a reading on your potential love interest and your lifestyle.

================================================

Pile 1

Your future style exudes an office siren and badass villain energy, with a preference for a dark, sophisticated color palette—think blacks, deep reds, maroons, greys, with accents of white and gold. You might accessorize in silver occasionally, and a bold red lip will likely be your go-to. Even on a minimal makeup day, a statement accessory could add that extra spark. This overall vibe will be strikingly sharp, almost vampire-esque, with a confident boss persona that draws attention the moment you walk in. Picture yourself in a high-powered corporate setting that requires formality, yet you’ll effortlessly exude that “high-value” look.

Interestingly, this era could open doors to a potential workplace romance. Picture a formal work event where you catch the eye of a charming individual—someone who wears glasses, has messy, dark curly or straight slick hair [Think of someone with a wolfcut or think of Prince Charmont from Ella Enchanted] , and a great personality with an introverted, brooding vibe. They might hold a senior role, like a project manager or supervisor, and have a naturally appealing charisma that others admire. Despite their introverted nature, they show a sweet nervousness around you that’s endearing. Your persona during this time might be a little sharper and more direct—focused on making moves and cutting distractions.

This phase may come after a breakup or a temporary break from a relationship that was overwhelming. This prior partner may attempt to re-enter your life, but by then, you���ll have met this new, more balanced person who feels refreshingly easy to be around. You’ll trust your instincts and follow your own path, even if it’s full of unexpected twists!

================================================================================================

Pile 2

When you adopt the cozy, layered looks in the images below, it might signal a season where you crave more time at home. You'll likely prefer staying in but, on those occasions when you do go out, you'll look your absolute best, like you just stepped off the set of a fall-themed movie—very "Gilmore Girls." During this phase, your focus could be on a significant project, such as a college assignment, work project, or a challenging exam. This period is all about staying single, striving toward future goals, and building a clear vision of your success, even if it feels just out of reach for now.

In terms of romance, no specific person catches your attention, though a few people might find you quite charming. However, you’re discerning, weighing any potential connections against your ideal partner. One person, in particular, may be interested, but they don’t quite align with your ambition or vision for the future. Though they’re attractive, kind-hearted, and you share great chemistry, their lack of drive doesn’t fit with your goals.

Despite how well you get along, you ultimately decide to move on, seeking something bigger and better aligned with your vision. Though a tough, perhaps even cold choice, this person will understand, showing emotional maturity even if they’re briefly heartbroken. You might even give them a meaningful parting gift, ending things on good terms. For now, you’ll continue your journey as an “Autumnal Fairy,” focused on your dreams, knowing that in time, a more suitable match will come along.

================================================================================================

Pile 3

Unlike the other piles, you’re embracing an avant-garde style, experimenting with accessories and layering pieces that you feel harmonize creatively. You’re drawn to a wide range of colors, thinking, “What’s life without color?” This shift reflects your desire to create a more vibrant life, filled with happiness and lively connections. Expect to add graphic-print dresses and colorful, patterned skirts to your wardrobe.

Through this vibrant energy, you may serendipitously meet someone whose grounded style—favoring blacks and earthy tones—contrasts yet complements your own. This person, with tan skin and a captivating smile, is drawn to the radiance you bring. Your charm and lively conversations will leave a lasting impression, making you feel like their favorite book, a story they can’t put down. They’ll be smitten by your style and personality, enchanted by your unique way of navigating life.

Enjoy this exciting, colorful phase—cheers to what’s ahead!

================================================================================================

Pile 4

It seems you’re headed for an all-pink or mostly pastel tones typa phase in the future! You might have felt drawn to another style as well, so expect to mix up your aesthetics often, making this time especially fun. You’ll be leaning into a “doll” look, inspired by Bratz or Barbie, with a wardrobe full of pastel tones. Your vibe will likely be sweet and demure, with favorite spots to visit with friends, like cozy cafes, grocery store runs, late-night drives, and park picnics. Theme parks might also be on your list!

During this phase, there’s a significant person by your side—a taller, older partner who is strong, protective, and deeply loyal. With a cooler, steady personality, they’re both a provider and a devoted companion who treats you like royalty, always willing to support and spoil you. If you’ve manifested this connection, it’s clear your efforts have worked, as this person truly feels like a keeper.

You’ve got this—go get that bag, sis!

[murdrdocs]

thinking about taking care of jack after a LOOONNGGG day. hes spent hours networking, chatting up crowds etc and all he wants to do is come home to his (controversially younger!) girlfriend and let her jerk him off as she asks about his day

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

slight power dynamics; handjobs; pet names (honey and baby); clothed sex; MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

you've always thought that jack looked pretty when he was all dolled up. when his hair was swept off of his clean-shaven face and his slim body perfectly filled up a suit that was tailored just for him. when he unlocked a part of himself that you rarely see, even though it's such a big part of who he is. jack's always pretty to you, even if he glares in the mirror and turns his head this way and that before an event, nonverbally expressing how jarring it still is to see himself like the ones who came before him.

you'll tell him he looks good—whether that be via the words coming out of your mouth, or a restrained kiss that worked to transfer as little makeup as possible. maybe a gentle press of your fingers into his shoulders, or wrapping your arm around his back. either way, it was always honest.

but you truthfully prefer jack when he's like this—leaning back against the bathroom counter, his hair fallen out of the swept back wave, curls visible thanks to the late-summer humidity as well as the heat swirling in the bathroom from the previously running shower. you'd shut it off once jack breathlessly complained about wasting water.

he was right, but you still appeared a little upset about having to stop your task to reach a hand into the water and turn the dial off. you were back on jack within the minute, though.

your hand wrapped around his cock, while you stared up at him attentively, smiling and nodding as if you weren't languidly jerking him off and you both were just having a regular conversation. he's keeping up well, only faltering every so often, usually whenever you twist your hand around his tip every few strokes.

but he recovers quickly, clearing his throat and blinking a few times before picking up where he left off.

"then i had the meeting with my editors after lunch..." he continues detailing the events of his day, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, only drifting off to the side whenever he has to think about something.

you could've undressed him completely, you probably should have, but you like how he looks like this. his pants unbuttoned and shoved down just enough for you to reach into his briefs and tug his dick free. his white shirt—no longer as crisp as it was this morning when you kissed him goodbye—unbuttoned to give way to the thin undershirt he wears. it's been lifted up now by your irreverent hands, sitting towards the top half of his midriff. you have a perfect view of the hair leading down towards his cock, along with his abdomen which tenses and relaxes periodically.

"uh-huh," you nod, glancing down for just a second before bringing your attention right back up.

you're the one getting him off, but his gaze still makes you feel a little hot. the intensity in his dark eyes which are framed by shadows of long lashes. the prominent furrow of his brows when he hesitates, paired with the flicker of his tongue over his lips.

he's so pretty. you don't think you'll ever get tired of looking at him.

"i got a drink from that place we wanted to try." this snaps you out of your daze.

"what? without me?"

jack smiles a bit and your attention is briefly brought to the grooves along the side of his mouth. he speaks through a grin. "sorry, it was on the way!"

"you're a traitor."

"if it makes you feel any better the drink was really—" his words taper off into a moan. it's satisfying to see his eyes screw shut, his mouth falling open.

you would wait for him to continue, to either confirm your suspicions and tell you that the overpriced drink was the best thing he's ever had, or that it wasn't worth his money, but you can tell he's lost his train of thought.

one of his hands lift off of the counter and flail uselessly in the air for a second before it finds you, wrapping around your forearm and then drifting to gently cup your elbow.

"close. 'm close."

as if you needed him to tell you. you can tell, it's written all over him; from the way the center of his eyebrows reach for his hairline, to the way you can feel his dick throbbing in your hand.

the audible slick! gets louder as you increase your pace just enough, determination driving your movements. you keep going, trying to push him closer and closer, waiting for him to tell you what he wants.

his lips hang open, not a single word coming from them, and then he speaks. "talk to me. c'mon, honey. help me out."

you're quick with it. "you're so pretty, baby. i love it when you let me do this. i can feel you, y'know? can feel how bad you wanna come. go ahead. please? for me?"

it gets him every time.

he curves away from you at first, his head falling back, resting between his shoulder blades as the initial spurts of cum shoot out onto your hand. and then he slumps forward, large frame swaying in the air until you catch him. you stumble from the weight, but you're struck still by a long arm winding around your waist, keeping you right there as jack comes into your hand and a little onto your belly.

[goblinpuppy35]

David Thewlis

The Artful Dodger (TV series) - 2023

Part 5/6