#after force feeding throughout the night

[sidetongue]

I was asked to take a pair of 3wk old babies. Ofc I said yes. the person who dropped them to me was like "the boy can't use his back legs and the girl can't breathe. bye!"

[ihavemanyhusbands]

for a lucius fic/blurb maybe he was betrothed to a girl before he was sent away and them reuniting after the events of the movie

OMG YES THANK YOU!!! This is divineeee im gonna make it a lil angsty (with happy ending though)

———

In all the years he’d been gone, he had never stopped counting the days until he saw you -- his betrothed, the love of his life -- again. Both of you had been young when your engagement was arranged, meant to marry when you were of age. You were the daughter of a senator who was close to Emperor Marcus Aurelius, his grandfather, and you had been friends since infancy.

He remembered playing in the gardens together, chasing butterflies, picking flowers for your mothers, and feeding the fish in the vivarium. Endless days of laughter, without worry of what the future might bring. At least you had each other, and there was comfort in thinking it would be for the rest of your lives.

But everything changed after the death of Maximus, the gladiator who had slayed his uncle, Emperor Commodus. Staying in Rome as a youth was far too dangerous, as many would attempt to assassinate him for the throne. His mother Lucilla's last act of love was to save him, even it it meant there was a possibility he would never come back.

Unfortunately, though, that meant he did not have time to say goodbye to you; to vow his everlasting fidelity. In Numidia, the breeze blowing in from the sea whispered your name, and he swore he could almost see your face -- as he remembered it in youth -- where the sky and the water met on the horizon.

The resulting rage and guilt fueled him as he started training, becoming stronger and more cunning over the years. He vowed his revenge against the Roman armies, fiercely defending the country that housed him.

Their arrival had been both a curse and a blessing, but only because they took him back with them. In the sands of the Colosseum, he fought harder than ever before in order to prove himself.

It was torture being unable to find you, wondering day and night where you might be in the great city. But once again, he let it fuel him, hellbent on taking down any enemy that might stand in his path.

It wasn't until the first game he participated in that Fate seemed to smile upon the two of you, and you saw each other across a great distance. Him in the arena and you sitting on the second tier with your father.

Your eyes widened in recognition and you couldn't look away. You almost stood but stopped yourself in order not to bring any unwanted attention to yourself. You absently grabbed your throat, your heart thundering fiercely with a maelstrom of emotions.

"Lucius..." you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"Did you say something, dear?" Your father asked, glancing at you curiously.

You shook your head, but an icy dread spread throughout you as beasts were released into the arena. Lucius nodded at you just barely before he had to tear his gaze away, his sword at the ready. The way he fought was precise and ruthless, reminiscent of his father, Maximus.

You anxiously looked towards the Emperor's box, seeing Queen Lucilla come to the same realization. You desperately hoped you would be able to speak to her, so the two of you might find a way to speak to Lucius.

You sat at the edge of your seat the entire time, watching him fight his way to victory. You couldn't help but cheer with the crowd, immensely relieved, but covering it up with infectious enthusiasm. Lucius looked to you once again before he was forced to leave the arena, silently vowing to get to you, no matter the cost.

Under the cover of night, and with some help from General Acacius, some of your father's guards accompanied you to the underground cells where Macrinus kept his gladiators.

The gate to Lucius' cell was opened and you stepped in, making him immediately stand from his cot. Tears sprang to your eyes, a sound that was half sob and half laugh escaping you.

"Lucius!" you said as he embraced you, kissing you desperately.

You kissed him back as tears of happiness tracked down your cheeks. You pulled apart to look at each other, taking in the evidence of time on your features. Your hands cradled his face tenderly, seeing the boy you remembered beneath the man that now stood in front of you.

"I can't believe you're here," you said as he kissed your palms. "We have to get you out."

His jaw clenched in rage and frustration. "I have to earn my freedom in the arena, it is the only way for me."

You let out a sound of despair, trying not to break down sobbing. "But surely General Acacius can--"

He shook his head. "No one can know who I am. At least, not yet. There is too much at stake."

You grabbed both of his hands and held them against your chest.

"My heart belongs to you, Lucius Verus Aurelius," you said solemnly. "I have always been yours, and I intend to marry you no matter your status."

He swallowed thickly, pulling you in for another kiss as he realized time was running out. He leaned his forehead against yours, holding you as close as possible.

"I love you," he said. "Nothing could keep me from you.”

“Then promise me you’ll live.”

He promised, intending to see it through. There simply was no other way. Even through the most grueling trials that followed, losing one too many people in his life, he prevailed. He rightfully claimed the throne of Rome, ridding it of the threats that almost were its downfall.

And his first act as Emperor was to marry you in the palace’s gardens under the night sky, with only the Gods as witnesses. The way it was always meant to be, your fates written in the stars.

————-

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Some details from the LITA special novel:

Sky and Pai

Pai sells his condo immediately after the assault in ep 13 and buys a new, larger one in a high security building.

Pai loves seeing Sky cry. Not in a mean way- tears of happiness absolutely preferred- but he is deeply touched that Sky has recovered to a point where he is now able to cry again.

Sky's father realized Sky was gay after the assault by his ex in high school, but they never talked about it. Sky was scared to bring Pai home because he didn't know how his father would react.

Sky's dad knew the moment he brought Pai home that they were dating. He asked Pai to take good care of his son and always accepted Pai as a son-in-law. He loves seeing how well Pai takes care of Sky.

Pai doesn't like Sky being around his (Pai's) family PURELY because they're obsessed with Sky, and he ends up completely kidnapped by them (Golfing with dad, shopping with mom, galleries with the siblings, etc.).

Sky resists moving in with Pai throughout his university days, just to be closer to school during high-stress times. Still, Pai's condo is their main residence.

If Sky is put in danger by his new friendship with Graf (Pakin's boyfriend, who is frequently targeted by Pakin's enemies), either Sky is taken immediately to Pai, or Pai brought immediately to him.

Sky does not believe he's attractive or cute (even though Pai tells him he is CONSTANTLY), but he is damn well aware he's amazing in bed and confident in that.

If Pai and Sky are apart for more than 2 weeks (because of Sky's work or Pai's business trips), they both start going a bit mental (leading to a very hot video chat).

Sky and Pai get married around 8 years after the events in Love in the Air.

Sky is now a professor of architecture at his old university.

Sky and Pai babysit Pai's niece/nephew, but don't want kids of their own (though they leave that as an 'unless we change our minds' kind of thing).

The vows they use in "Wedding Plan" are actually lines Pai says to Sky that Sky later paints into a portrait of Pai with his bike.

The wedding planning service they use in "Wedding Plan" is one Pai approached first to plan a surprise anime-themed birthday party for Sky.

Rain and Payu

Payu told his mom about Rain after their first night together, and he and Saifah both shared stories about him, but no one ever told Rain.

Rain wanders downstairs in his undies one night and Payu's mom is just THERE. She pretends not to know who he is and disapprove of him while force-feeding him porridge... she and Payu are the exact same flavor of tricksters who enjoy seeing Rain anxious.

Strict no-sex-outside-of-the-bedroom rule put in place by Rain because Saifah once caught Rain riding Payu on the sofa and teased him for days.

Rain is not afraid to stand his ground and put Payu in his place if he thinks his man is wrong. He may leave the fight for morning, but he won't bend if he doesn't agree.

Rain ends up working for a top architecture firm (maybe the one Payu used to work for, unclear) and takes on bigger and bigger projects.

Two years after starting his own firm, Payu asks Rain to come be his work partner (he asked before the firm opened, but Rain wanted to gain experience so he could be Payu's equal).

Payu cried when Rain agreed to come work with him because they were both so busy that they barely saw each other anymore. Now, no matter how busy they are, they will still be together.

Rain and Sky

Rain blames himself in part for Sky being assaulted again by his ex, and won't leave Sky's side at races unless Pai is there.

Rain and Sky still hang out constantly and are thick as thieves.

They befriend Pakin's boyfriend Graf (at Pakin's threat/request), and Pakin softens towards them somewhat in gratitude.

Rain is nearly stabbed in a bathroom by someone who mistakes him for Graf. He's saved by Sky and Chai (who was secretly following).

Rain and Sky frequent the races and bring their own snacks and candy, every guard and repeat guests know them and greet them on sight.

Thanks to Sky and Rain, the dangerous, illegal, underground street races have more of a carnival atmosphere. Pakin doesn't care, so long as the rules aren't broken.

Pai and Payu

Still involved with the races, no matter how busy they get with work.

As much as Sky and Rain hang out, Pai and Payu also meet up in their spare time with others who are or were involved with the races (mostly former top racer Oat).

If Pai wants to plan a surprise for Sky, he will go to Payu's house and borrow Rain to help scheme.

Payu is the official-unofficial tutor of the young ones. If Sky seems to be struggling with a concept and stressed out, Pai will call Payu for help.

Payu and Pai both leave Sky and Rain plenty of space to be individuals. All of them have their own friends and go places they want to go, then come tell their partner about their adventures.

[finsplurtz]

Can you do something with Bakugou and rape?

loosen up, yeah? — katsuki.bakugo

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Katsuki.Bakugo

— contents : drunk sex , non con , you get bakugo drunk n fuck him , this is kinda iffy i’ve never written noncon before oops also rlly short gulp

warnings : R@PE!!! be currrful

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Katsuki Bakugo is insanely pretty. that’s what you first noticed about him when you met him, he had a nice face, beautiful eyes. second thing you noticed was how cold and rude he was to everyone, even his friends, and you were going to be the first person he truly respects.

you got along with all the other people, izuku and shoto, uraraka and tsu, they alll loved having you around and you all had fun when you guys hung out.

then there was bakugo who didn’t give a fuck that you were there, he basically ignored you.

to end the night everyone went out for drinks, one thing you knew about bakugo was that he wasn’t a lightweight, it definitely took a lot to get him drunk.

you sat down next to him at the table and passed him a glass with wine in it.

“drink?” you ask. he hummed before taking the glass and downing the drink. he did this for a couple times throughout the night but then he stopped.

“guys i’ll go get more to drink, you guys still going?” you ask getting out of your seat. all of them were still for drinking and you looked at bakugo who shook his head.

“mh… bakugo help me with the drinks!” you pat his back innocently hoping he would go with you, took a while before he finally gave in with an grunt of annoyance.

“you don’t wanna get wasted tonight bakugo? i mean look at everyone else, they’re already pretty drunk…” you start conversation as you both wait for the drinks to come.

“no i don’t want to wake up with hangover.”

.

.

“cmon, have some fun! drink with us~” you coo. bakugo shoos you away declining your offer. you grab one of the drinks on the counter and firmly grab his jaw, looking down at him.

“just a bit more, kay? loosen up.” you smile as you bring a glass to his mouth and slowly pour it into his mouth, he brought his hand up to stop you but drank the alcohol anyway. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked away.

“there you go, let’s try to have fun tonight!” you grab the rest of the drinks and he follows after.

the whole night you tried to get this blonde as drunk as possible, passing him more drinks, playing drinking games, pouring them down his throat yourself. by the end everyone was on the brink of passing out, bakugo could barely stand without stumbling.

you were a bit dizzy but managed. you sent everyone home safely and kept bakugo with you.

“drank quite a lot, huh bakugo.” you ask the man in your passenger seat who didn’t respond. he noticed you weren’t taking the route to his house and looked at you, you just kept your eyes on the road.

you guys got to your home and you helped him get up and out the car. bakugo was still conscious, aware of his surroundings, you needed him to down just a couple more drinks…

right as he sat on your couch you got some vodka out and placed it in front of him.

“imma throw up…” bakugo said, some hiccups leaving him.

“expensive kind. tastes good” you popped down next to him and poured him a glass anyway. you had to force feed him the drink and he wasn’t really putting up that much of a fight.

he started to blank out and he barely recalls passing out.

.

bakugo groans as he wakes up, hands feeling around at the sheets of the bed he was laying on. he opens his tired eyes and his breathing pace picks up when he sees his legs propped up on your shoulders, your dick already buried deep in his heat.

“w..what..” he has a migraine, you’re grinning devilishly, running your hands all over his thighs.

“morning pretty..” you whisper.

“wha….are…s-stop..” the blonde is about to start freaking out as realization sets in, he’s pulling his legs back and you take the opportunity to push them against him into a mating press, slamming deep into him.

“NOUH..~!” His eyes roll back as your huge length digs deep inside him. Tears begin to fall down his face as more painful moans leave him.

“you look prettier when you cry, baby~” you taunt as you set a pace and keep fucking into him. He’s trying to say something back but he’s speechless, you’re pulling moans out of his like crazy and he’s never felt this good.

his legs are trembling and he’s gasping pathetically, tears blurring his field of vision. you move his legs and start to jerk him off with one of you’re hands, groaning at the feelings of him tightening around you.

“fuh- hm..~ stop…p..lease..” he begs, barely even able to look at you. you’re just going at it faster, watching his tummy bulge at how far in your cock is hitting him.

“just…a second.. haa..” you’re thrusts get wonky and you whine when you finally fill him up with your semen, a cry leaving him.

Nothing but panting could be heard as you both calm down. just as you were pulling out, the blonde gave you a hard kick to the chest. you roll of the bed throwing a coughing fit.

you look back at him with a glare and see him filled with tears of rage. he’s covering his body up and shaking.

“so beautiful..”

a/n: wait ts so buns mb😭😭🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿

[nyrandrea]

Everything's Fine

As you try to deal with everything that has been thrown at you so early into your journey: forced leadership, mindflayer tadpoles and taking on everybody's personal problems, it all just gets a bit too much for you.

(Takes place during Act 1)

Word Count - 3.5k

Also available to read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

xxx

You felt your patience starting to wear incredibly thin when you realised Astarion had been staring at you for over five minutes now. 

Not directly, he would never be so conspicuous—at least, not intentionally— but you kept catching those fleeting glances he was throwing your way; the corners of his red eyes crinkling every so often before returning to whatever book he was pretending to read. It wasn’t one of those charming, smouldering gazes he would sometimes give you after a night of feeding, asking if you were alright, knowing full-well that your answer was a resounding ‘I’m fine’, and that you would provide for him again soon. 

No, what he was doing right now—very carefully—was scanning you, studying you,  judging you. It was as if he was trying to leer right through to your very soul. 

You almost had half a mind to stomp over to his tent and demand what his problem was, but there were other unfortunate issues to contend with. 

Namely Shadowheart and Lae'zel. 

“I already told you that the artefact is my responsibility,” Shadowheart said, her aloof demeanour and confident tone betrayed by the hand hovering over the hilt of her dagger. “This way it will protect us all, I thought we had already established that!” 

“We have established nothing,” Lae’zel hissed back. “We only agreed not to slit each other’s throats in the night, though...,” she grimaced. “I still have no reason to trust that you will not try again.” 

“At least there’s still some sense in that bullish head of yours.” 

“Tsk!” Lae’zel spat at Shadowheart’s feet, much to the latter’s disgust as she recoiled back. “However, the matter still stands that the relic you hold onto belongs to my people. Therefore, it should be in my possession!” 

The cleric sneered. “I would sooner slit my own throat.” 

“Then go right ahead. Nobody will stop you.” 

Rubbing at your temples to try and ease the incoming migraine that, for once, was not caused by the mindflayer parasite living rent-free in your head, you decided to step in-between the two women, not really caring about risking a gutting from their trigger-happy blades. 

“C’mon, we’re not seriously having this fight again?” You huff incredulously, the question already sounding stupid as soon as it left your mouth. Because of course they were having this fight again. They had it yesterday, and the day before that, and they were probably going to have it tomorrow as well. 

“We are, as it happens,” Shadowheart replied, her eyes flickering briefly to you before narrowing forward again. “Because this savage bitch won’t leave me alone!” 

Lae’zel bared her teeth in a cruel grin. “Better to be that than a revrykal of Shar.” 

At the mention of her Goddess’s name, Shadowheart practically lunged herself towards Lae’zel with an enraged scream, her dagger raised high with the intention of plunging it straight into the githyanki’s chest, who in turn raised her shield to protect herself. In that moment, you were nothing to them but a speck of dust in the wind. 

It wasn’t until your hand shot up in a blind panic when Shadowheart realised what she was doing, forcing her to suddenly pull back to avoid injuring you, only a moment too late as her knife slashed the palm of your hand. Blood sprayed across the ground as your short but pained cry echoed throughout the camp. 

“Oh Gods...” Shadowheart muttered as everyone was suddenly on their feet and crowded around the three of you in a matter of moments. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t... mean to...!” 

“What? Attempt to kill our leader in cold blood?” Lae’zel muttered as she took your trembling hand to examine it, you only stared ahead as the shock took a moment to wear off. You didn’t even register her uncharacteristically gentle touch as she turned your palm up. “Only a flesh wound, you will live.” 

“Still,” Astarion piped up from behind. “Perhaps it would be best to get that dressed up lest you attract any...*ahem* unsavoury visitors.” 

“It would seem we already have,” Lae’zel replied, to which the vampire put a hand up to his chest in mock offence. 

“Lae’zel, you depreciate me,” he pouted. “I’m hurt.” 

Astarion’s sudden cold grasp on your wrist startled you as he decided to examine the cut himself in a much less gentle manner than Lae’zel. “Not that I would be able to get much from this anyway, even if I tried.” 

You were slightly worried that he was pondering the idea the longer he stared at the wound; you could practically see him drooling. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat that he snapped out of his daze. 

“Well, we should probably get this cleaned up anyhow,” he finally said. “To avoid infection and whatnot.” 

“...You’re not gonna lick it clean, are you?” Karlach asked with a grimace. 

“Of course not!” Astarion bit back, much more flustered this time. “I’m not some savage beast, you know.” 

“That’s... debatable,” Gale piped in. 

“Well! It’s lovely to know that you all think so little of me; the feeling is very much mutual,” Astarion said with a fake smile before taking you by the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll have to nurse this poor wounded soul, as well as my pride.” 

He started guiding you away from the rest of the group, you only allowed him to because the whole situation had you in a bit of a daze, but not before Shadowheart tried to get in another “I’m... I’m sorry.” 

“It’s... I’m fine,” you replied with whatever level of composure you could muster up with a smile in a small attempt to reassure her before allowing yourself to be led towards Astarion’s tent. Your words seemed to satisfy her as Shadowheart returned a sorrowful but grateful nod, though her expression turned sour when Karlach stepped between her and Lae’zel. 

“Alright now, ladies, what do you two say we let out our pent-up aggression towards each other in a healthier and less murder-y way, huh?” The tiefling suggested before holding up her finger to not let the other two get a word in edgewise. “And before you ask, I will not be taking no for an answer.” 

A small smile graced your lips at Karlach’s enthusiastic yet surprisingly pragmatic way of taking charge, and it seemed to be working as Shadowheart and—to your utter astonishment—Lae’zel agreed to whatever training regimen she had in store for them.  

‘Perhaps Karlach should take over as leader...’  

The idea was extinguished as soon as it had entered your mind, replaced with thoughts of the tiefling messing everything up, of her killing you in your sleep, that you shouldn’t trust her to lead your party. The only one who should have any authority over these subordinates is you. Only you are worthy. 

The voice quieted down after a few moments, leaving you only with a pounding head—just another one of the many wonderful side-effects of the parasite. 

You didn’t take any heed of whatever thoughts the tadpole forced upon you. You knew that Karlach would never hurt you, or any of the others for that matter—not by choice, anyway. However, those flashes of betrayal and blood were starting to wear you down a bit, especially with the lack of sleep; the very notion of it had been non-existent since you escaped the nautiloid and accepted the leadership that everyone had practically forced upon you. 

You weren’t exactly a natural-born leader; hell, you barely managed to keep yourself alive never mind a whole group of people. 

“That’s going to need stitches,” Astarion said as he observed your hand more closely now that the two of you were in the privacy of his tent. Heat flushed around your cheeks at how close the two of you were. Flashes of that night you had shared a bed—or well, the forest floor—came to mind, and you hated how flustered it made you. It was a one-night stand, a bit of fun to ease the stress of adventuring; clearly it meant nothing. At least... that was what you were made to feel. 

What had been a night of passion for you, had been the same old dance for him. 

“Take a seat there,” Astarion’s said, his voice cutting through your thoughts like a knife. “I should have a needle around here, somewhere.” 

“You know how to sew?” You asked, settling down on a cushioned stool. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, and a sting of guilt surged in your chest. “How do you think I’ve kept these clothes looking so good for over two hundred years? Certainly not by magic.” 

“Why not just buy new clothes?” 

Your prodding seemed to hit a nerve as he paused for a moment. 

“Why waste the coin?” He finally replied, sounding a little dejected. 

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip as you tried to think of a way to quickly rectify your carelessness. “You do look great, by the way—y-your clothes, I mean,” embarrassment takes over as you trip over your own words. “The gold embroidery is um *cough * it’s nice.” 

Astarion seems amused at your inability to grasp basic English as he chuckles, the sound deep and almost musical. “Why thank you, darling. I’m glad someone around here appreciates the finer details.” 

The vampire kneels next to you and threads the needle before gesturing for you to hold out your hand. “It has been a while so... let’s just hope I’m not too rusty, hm?” 

Those words don’t instil a great deal of confidence within you, but you won’t allow it to show, trusting in him to get the job done. If you ended up getting sepsis, well... Withers was always on stand-by. 

“Now, hold still,” Astarion instructed. “This may sting a little.” 

You nodded, only wincing a little when he made the first stitch, the pain became more bearable as you watched him focus with the kind of laser-like precision that only came with a practiced hand; it made you wonder how many times he had done this. His methodical movements almost lulled you into a sort of relaxed trance, had your mind have not been working overtime, you honestly might have fallen asleep: Gods know you could have done with a bit of shut eye. 

Ever since the ship crashed, your problems just seemed to keep piling on top of each other: Lae’zel was hellbent on getting to that githyanki creche, and there was the matter of Karlach’s engine, Gale was close to blowing to kingdom-come if he didn’t get another magical item to consume soon, Astarion would probably need another feeding at some point, not to mention the dog, Scratch, and the owlbear cub who had started hanging around the camp. A dog was one thing but how much did owlbears need to eat?  

It was fine, you reassured yourself. Everything would be fine. 

“There we go,” Astarion said, relinquishing your hand back, freshly stitched and cleaned. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but it wasn’t anything a quick healing spell couldn’t fix. 

“Not my best work but it will just have to do for now,” he huffs, as if he was annoyed with himself. “You’ll have to excuse the sloppy stitching, it’s... been a while.” 

“It’s beautiful work,” you can’t help but admire the stitching; it was flawless. “Thank you, Astarion.” 

His gaze remains on you for a moment, as if he were expecting some sort of quip or punchline, and his eyes widen slightly when he realises you’re being genuine. 

“I... uh... you...?” He pauses and squints; still nothing. “You are... most certainly welcome.” 

You raise an eyebrow; did he really think so lowly of you that he believed you simply weren’t capable of a simple 'thank you'? Or was it himself that he had no confidence in? Your thoughts turn to when you asked him about how he came about becoming a vampire. Astarion kept most of his history closed off from you but told you just enough to let you know that this ‘Cazador’ fellow had treated him poorly. Belittled him. Enslaved him. 

You couldn’t begin to imagine how horrible it must have been; no wonder he didn’t trust anyone. 

A part of you wanted to pry into his thoughts, to let him know that you were here for him should he ever want to talk, but a new figure entered the tent, startling you into closing your mouth. 

“Hello!” Gale cheerily greeted with a smile, his eyes latching onto you immediately. “How are we feeling?” 

“Oh, we’re feeling quite dandy, thank you,” Astarion interjected with a frown. “You didn’t think to knock before deciding just to barge in?” 

“Well, given the materialistic structure of this very sound establishment, I think you’ll find it’s a little difficult to uh...” Gale trailed off, attempting to rap the tent flap to no avail. “...knock on.” 

“Then why not just knock on the wooden beams with that...” The vampire waved lazily towards Gale’s staff. “Very large stick of yours.” 

“Duly noted, but I think we’re getting a bit off track here,” the wizard said before turning to you. “I need a word.” 

You were taken aback slightly by his bluntness, and you couldn’t help but notice the almost pained way he was wringing his hands and how his eyebrows subtly twitched. He looked incredibly... uncomfortable. 

His hand hovered over his chest briefly, just above the mark that glowed whenever he consumed magic. 

Shit. Was it that time already? But hadn’t you given him something only yesterday? Or had it been a few days now? With recent events, it was hard to keep track of the time anymore; day and night just meshed into one big messy blur. 

Judging by your panicked look, Gale held up his hands in a placating manner. “Now, I know you’ve had a lot on your plate recently but this little uh... situation of mine is growing quite dire again so... if you could just relinquish whatever magical artefact you have, then all will be fine and dandy.” 

“I... don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 

Gale’s expression dropped. “Come now, you must have picked up something along the way, surely?” 

You grimaced. 

“In a dungeon? Along the road? What about that little goblin camp you rampaged through recently?” 

His sudden passive-aggressiveness made you feel uneasy. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Astarion cut in, folding his arms. “But we were a bit preoccupied with fighting for our lives to be on the lookout for any magic boots for you to chew on.” 

Gale chuckled dryly and drew the vampire a dirty look. “I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of what might very well happen if I don’t find something to contain the beast within me very soon- “ 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, darling.” 

“This isn’t a joking matter!” 

“Ugh! Just shut up!” You snapped. “I do get it, Gale. Because you remind me Every. Damn. Day. About this big, scary, mystery catastrophe that might happen without actually explaining anything about it! A bit of context would go a long way!” 

Gale’s hurt wince suddenly had your stomach churning in guilt; you shouldn’t be snapping at people; you were better than that. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologised. “As soon as we’re out on the road again, I’ll make it our priority to look for an artefact for you, alright? You have my word.” 

Astarion scowled and Gale forced a smile; his lips too strained for it to be genuine. It seemed like you couldn’t please anyone today. 

“That’s all I can ask for, and I promise... all will be revealed soon, otherwise the tadpoles will be the least of our worries.” 

When Gale left, you plopped down to the ground and took ragged breaths to calm your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt as you nestled your injured hand in your lap. Had Gale only checked in on you so he could ask you for a magic item in return? Was he really that desperate? He must have been, seeing as you had completely forgotten about his predicament. 

What kind of leader were you? 

“You know, you can’t go making promises all willy-nilly like that,” Astarion said. “We have enough problems as it is without having to worry about...” 

His chastising faded into white noise as you grasped your head, the sting of your fingers curling and tugging through unkempt hair was just enough to distract from the pounding that came from within your brain. The ability to focus was suddenly lost to you as your heart raced, and dark emotions swirled within your chest like a wild tornado; it was tempting to let them sweep you away, to ride the waves into the unknown. To be anywhere but here without anyone depending on you for so, so much.  

“Hello?” Astarion drawled. “Are you even listening to- Darling...?” 

He moved closer to you; his steps measured and deliberate as he lowered himself down next to you, still allowing you enough space while being close enough to reach out a hand to your trembling shoulder, his touch cold yet oddly comforting. 

“Hey,” he spoke in a soothing, soft tone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with unwavering support. “I’m right here with you, you’re safe, just breathe along with me, alright?” 

You nodded, albeit shakily, and tried to mirror his calm, measured breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, attempting to regain control over your racing heart. 

Astarion’s voice never wavered as your frantic gasps slowly started to synchronise with his calm breathing. “I know things are tough right now, but these feelings will soon pass. You’re stronger than you think, darling.” 

He continued to gently rub your back, tracing comforting circles with his fingertips, a rhythm that matched the cadence of your breath. Your hands slowly unlatched from your hair as you felt Astarion’s reassuring presence and honeyed words grounding you. 

“There we go, you’re regaining control,” he encouraged softly. “Now, I’m going to get you a glass of water, will you be alright for a moment?” 

You nodded again, and with a quick squeeze of your shoulder, he left. As your panic attack started to ebb, your breathing evened and your heart slowed as you felt yourself returning to the present moment, the tension that had your body rigid starting to ease. 

Astarion was back by your side within moments, gently pushing a glass into your hand and helping you lift it to your lips for a small sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I’m-” 

“And don’t you dare say ‘I’m fine’,” he scowled. "Because we both know you’re clearly not.” 

You racked your brain to try and find a way to explain that you were okay and that this was just a small moment of weakness, a blip in the road, that there was nothing to worry about and you had it all figured out. 

But the words never came, instead you draw your knees up and hug them close to your chest as if to hide away from his piercing gaze. 

Astarion lingers by your side for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like to stay in here for a while?” 

Unable to find the energy to speak, you simply nod. 

“Then come on, scooch over.” 

As you shuffle slightly to the side, Astarion sits down next to you, draping an arm over your shoulder and allowing you to settle your head into his side and cling to his shirt in a way that a child might cling to their mother. 

“...I’m sorry." 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Astarion’s expression soften as he waved a nonchalant hand. “Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, dear. If anything, I should be the one apologising, who knew being in my mere presence would be so breathtaking?” 

You managed a small chuckle at that. 

“But in all seriousness,” he continued. “I know a thing or two about putting on a façade and... well...,” he paused. “Just... know that if you ever want to talk, I’m all pointy ears.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, though you can tell by his undertone that he’s being disingenuous, kindness wasn’t exactly his forte after all, but you appreciated the attempt all the same. But you were just content to sit in his arms for a while, and he seemed pleased enough with the silence. So, for now, you inhale the comforting aroma of bergamot, rosemary and brandy, letting yourself get lost in his comforting presence. 

And exhale. 

xxx

Hellooooo Baldur's Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and the brainrot is real. I'm only in Act 1 hence why this fic takes place so early in the game but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. Apologies for any inconsistencies :'3 Let me know what y'all think!

*Edit - since this has been pretty well received, I've opened up requests! Pop me an ask if you would like one :)

[vilsoo]

𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐅 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐒! ⌇MICHAEL AFTON

succubus!reader x michael afton || WC: 5,413

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. ever since michael found you as a succubus, he’s never been so in love. you usually feed off humans, but with michael’s sexual energy keeping you alive, you never ate anyone in years. that is, until, halloween night occurs…

𖤐 WARNINGS. established relationship, university au, halloween setting, malewife himbo bf/girlboss demon gf dynamic, revenge, murder, flesh eating, gore, blood mentions, tentacle bondage, msub!michael.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] This is a high speed roller coaster with sudden stops and drops! All riders must store loose items inside of a locker. This ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and content warnings posted. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

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Is it possible to fall in love with a woman after they had just murdered someone?

For Michael Afton, the answer is yes.

Months ago during the beginning of the semester, Michael wasn’t always great at making friends. Even though this was university, it felt like high school again, where he remained an outcast and was reluctant to be involved with the student body, college clubs, or majority of big events like football games. He was academically focused; the typical nerdy student majoring in engineering. Always studying by himself in the library and sometimes tutoring other students so he could earn some money on the side. Back then he realized that having friends or even being in a relationship was the least of his priorities.

But it wasn’t until he first laid his eyes on you.

You were so beautiful. Also an inquisitive, scholarly student with good grades, staying on top of your classes, and involved with many extra curriculars. As badly as he wanted to talk to you, he viewed you as way out of his league. Always keeping in touch with your friend groups on campus and focusing on the clubs and committees you joined. There was never a chance for Michael to even be with you. So to avoid rejection and humiliation, he’d rather keep his crush a little secret, admiring and fantasizing about you from afar.

When October came around and a big Halloween party was taking place, Michael was invited by one of the students he was tutoring. He wasn’t the best at social gatherings and has never been to college parties, but the only reason he came was because you were attending as well. And that the first time he ever drank and slightly withdrew from his comfort zone from the alcohol, talking to people from campus and collecting all the courage to talk to you.

That night, however, you were busy with another man. A man that Michael has never seen before. Spending a lot of time together, dancing, drinking, and always leaving the vicinity together… As much as Michael wanted to admit that he was jealous deep down, he forced himself to move on. He’d always believed that there was no way in Hell that he was going to have a chance with you that time.

“…Hey, has anybody seen Y/N?”

A few hours later into the party the question started floating in the air, suddenly capturing Michael’s attention. The thought of you had completely slipped his mind as he started drinking more throughout the night until you were back to being his main focus. Recalling the last time he’s seen you was with that man he assumed doesn’t attend the university. As he lingered in his thoughts, his skin started crawl.

Suspicion. Piercing curiosity. An urge to look for you and make sure you were safe.

A handful of your friends were looking everywhere in the house for you as Michael decided to investigate outside. Even though he was outside of campus and wasn’t that familiar with the outskirts, he didn’t stop searching until he could find you that night. He searched until the path at his feet faded and lead into the dark woods, the verdant greens diminishing to sullen brown, as if he was entering forbidden territory. But it wasn’t until he noticed red.

A blood trail.

That mystifying Halloween night, right in the heart of the forest where danger and terror lurks, is the first time Michael saw a dead man’s body and his guts hideously torn apart, messy spikes of fresh blood splattered everywhere. The whole scene looked impossible for a rabid animal to even do that. But it wasn’t until he found you, on your knees and sitting on your ankles beside the corpse, blood draped all over your face, chin, and then your naked body.

And when your gaze flickered onto Michael, in your eyes he can sense longing, pining, regret, terror… a tumultuous storm surging in your mind, piercing right through him. He could’ve ran. He could’ve screamed that night. He should’ve been horrified by the scene in the first place. But every fiber of his fell frozen like he was in a surrendering state; placating, patient, consoling. Only for you. A rapport had already formed right there and then, right under the luminous moon…

“Help me, Michael…”

And just as you were about to collapse on the ground, he rushed over to hold your body in his arms, not caring about the dead man or the blood all over his hands and clothes. He only cared about you. A wave of relief may have washed over him, but he was taken over by this strange, formidable urgency to protect you. To be there for you. To cherish you with such powerful tenderness, nurturing you in such a delicate, vulnerable state.

That was the night you and Michael finally bonded. That special Halloween night you found each other. Comprehending the fact that you were a newborn succubus— the deadliest, macabre, and wanton creature to ever exist... Knowing that you eat men, feed off their flesh, and reap on them with sexual dreams and nightmares, suddenly lead him to a mind-blowing discovery…

Michael had fallen in love with you.

In just a year later, you two were official. A perfect boyfriend and girlfriend for each other, basking in a healthy, loving, long-term relationship. With Michael knowing what you’re capable of as a succubus, he never held it against you; especially finding out the dark and twisted origin of how you became a succubus… He still loves you, cherishes you, and will forever stay loyal to you. Dating you because you’re you was just what he wanted ever since the beginning of college. And even though there were various things he has to adapt to in this relationship, he never complained. He would sacrifice anything for you, including his time to skip class just so you two can have sex.

But for a very good reason.

During the first few months of his new relationship, he had to deal with your bloodlust. You would tend to be ravenous, feral, murderous, literally barbaric for man blood and flesh, for that was your only appetite as a newborn. Michael knew what he was getting into, knew that him ending up being killed and eaten by you one day would be inevitable just to keep yourself alive and beautiful. As cautious and wary as ever, he’d keep his distance as he was in desperate search for another way to satisfy your hunger besides murdering anyone. Then finally, he came to the conclusion that a succubus like his girlfriend can also thrive and feed off sexual energy. A perfect solution for your diet without anybody getting hurt and keeping you alive.

Having sex with you everyday and night didn’t even feel like a strict routine or sex ritual. Michael had you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even dessert. Nothing about this felt like a necessity just to keep you around forever; he really wanted to satisfy you deep down as long as you consented. And as the months passed by, perhaps deep down he was also a freaky sex demon that takes pleasure in pleasuring his beautiful girlfriend. A man possessed and bewitched by your ethereal presence, he’d make you feel various levels of pleasure and pain as he explores the regions of your body that you never knew existed— finding your weaknesses, turning them into his strengths, and then seducing you with them...

As goes for you, who trained yourself to only feed off the insatiable, wanton lust you have for Michael. You always find a human man like him weaving into your brain, coursing through your veins like you were downing a drug. Every second you see each other at school, your hearts pound as hard as the bed you shared in your new apartment rattles, feasting upon your lusts as if there were no more morrows. Michael had undying, blooming love for you— and you wallowed in his love like draping a warm blanket over you during cold Winter nights.

Halloween was right around the corner again. It was soon to be your one year anniversary, and though Michael had many, many plans on celebrating with you, one of them was going to this huge Halloween party just thirty minutes away from campus. But it wasn’t just some ordinary house party with spooky Halloween decor lazily thrown around and bowls of fruit punch and alcohol scattered on a kitchen island— this was a hardcore Halloween party with over 300 guests attending. Way more people, way more alcohol, and way more attractions than just music to dance to— there were rumors of a famous live band performing, people hosting escape rooms, haunted houses, and other cool horror-related shit that Michael couldn’t wait to experience with you.

It was an hour before the party. The two of you were at your apartment getting your costumes ready, since Halloween costumes were part of the dress code for this party. If you weren’t dressed, you weren’t allowed in.

“Are you… Jason Voorhees?” you marveled, passing by Michael standing in front of the body mirror putting on the iconic hockey mask.

Michael chuckled. “Yeah. Since we had a Friday the 13th this year... I just found this at Spirit Halloween and decided why not. What are you gonna be, hm?”

“Well, it’s a little basic…” You did some cute poses in front of the mirror in your costume; a cropped white puffer jacket with faux fur on the edges of your hood, a denim skirt, red laced stockings, and then fake blood splattered all over. “It was also last minute, so I just threw on some stuff to look like Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body.”

“Basic? You look beautiful,” he complimented as he stared at your reflection in the mirror, turning around to hold your waist. “The costume is also ironic. I love that. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s go before parking gets full.”

The thirty minute drive at night wasn’t that bad. You and Michael’s adrenaline started to rush in when luminous rays of colorful lights and fog were seen from a far distance behind the shadowy trees. There were so, so many people that Michael couldn’t even recognize. Some weren’t even students that attended the university. You were surfing through the crowd with him never letting go of your hand, everybody around dancing outdoors as the excitement buzzes around in this rave-like party. Spectrums within the bass-boosted music, the sound waves pulsing in your heart. In the air, you could immediately take in strong various drugs and alcohol invading your senses. You could hear the rustle of costumes, glasses clinking, people talking and laughing, and feel the whimsical energy flowing around.

You and Michael decided to drink and dance together, the dizzying lights and alcohol making you fall through space and only take in his face. As the ecstasy flowed in your bloodstream beyond all measure like a storm of electric emotion, your pupils dilating as you were filled with this hazy sweetness-like sensation. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you always felt this way for your own boyfriend; becoming a victim to your own deadly, rapacious desire, enlaved to the rhythm of such unquenchable fire.

Together on the dance floor, Michael kept caressing your waist as you kept moving your body on his. He cupped your face, lips meeting together and something like fire and passion ignited within your ribs, urging each other to deepen the kiss. As if the alcohol couldn’t intoxicate you more, Michael was all that you needed in your hazy, drunken world. You needed him more than ever. You wanted to sneak off and find some place private for the both of you. God, you were feeling so needy for him deep down that Michael already knew…

"…Thank you for having us tonight. It's so good to be here with y'all!" somebody exulted into the microphone on the stage nearby. "I hope y'all enjoy and have a happy fuckin' Halloween!"

The elated crowd cheers again as the drummer counts off with the sticks and the electric guitar riffs take over your ears. For some odd reason, the man’s voice that started singing sounded vaguely familiar to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a part of you that recognizes a voice like that…

With the heated moment between you and Michael now disrupted by the band performing, you both turn your heads towards the stage where the crowd started to increase. Still holding each other’s hands, your eyes weaved through the back of people’s heads and tried to see who was performing. The electronic punk riffs sounded incredibly vibrant, thrilling everybody in the rave. Dark red spotlights, increased fog from the machines, and the clashing of the drums and other electric instruments overpowering your ears… Even the music sounded familiar to you— this was a genre that you used to listen to, after all.

“Do you wanna stay and watch?” you hear Michael yell out, clutching your hand tighter.

Somehow the question flew over your head as if you were distracted and overstimulated at the same time. As if you were drawn into the hypnotizing performance, there was an odd feeling of curiosity weighing down on your shoulders. The set up, the music, the energy, the singer’s voice… was it deja vu? You were slightly emerged, as if you unadjusted from this atmosphere, and the more Michael studied your curiosity, the more he became concerned.

When the silhouettes of tall heads blocking your view parted for a few minutes, you could finally see the singer. And the moment you scrutinized his appearance, it felt as if the world around you slowed down.

His face heightened every nerve of your body, as if you were just electrocuted by the most hazardous downed powerline. You were in utter bewilderment and horror of everything that you took in, numerous daunting flashbacks running in your head. You held your breath as you relived a traumatic memory from last Halloween; the night you were reborn as a succubus… You had no idea if these were your memories— Hell, it felt like a past life regression coursing every fiber of your being. But for the first time in a long time, terror and fright seized you completely.

“That— that singer…” you drawled, eyes widening every second in horror.

Michael furrowed his brows from not being able to hear you, leaning his ear closer to you. “Wait, what?”

You remembered. You remembered everything.

That last night of your perfect life where everything felt so surreal— being noticed by your long admired idol. A diabolical, sinister plan disguised as an innocent groupie love, where you were betrayed, drugged, kidnapped, and murdered.

The fire. The alcohol. The party. The groupie sex.

His words. His threats. His intentions. His greedy thirst for fame.

The night where he cut out your heart and sacrificed you to the devil. The night when you woke up hours later with a repulsive thirst for flesh on your tongue. The night you were reborn as a succubus, killing the first innocent man you ever saw who was just camping alone in the woods…

It was him. It was really him.

With your eyes welling with tears, your mind started to scream at you. You wanted revenge. You wanted to fucking kill him. Your anger and surging vengeance ignited a dangerous flame taking over you like a goddamn baptism. Your mind turns darker than black as every painful memory rips through you. This was the night he will finally die— and you didn’t give a fucking damn about how many witnesses there will be for his death.

“Babe? Are you—“

Letting go of Michael’s hand before he could comprehend it, you were already out of the crowd and lurking in the shadows with your enhanced speed. Part of you wanted to make that man’s death public. But part of you wanted to take things the old fashioned way, luring him backstage and devouring his soul right back into Hell where he belonged.

But your insatiable lust for flesh and blood mixed with your rage had you impatient and ravenous. It’s been so, so long since you’ve ate a man. And for a valid reason, you were hysterical and feverish to finally eat one on Halloween again. Make that man die a slow, painful, agonizing death as you tie him up in the woods and tear apart each and every one of his organs and guts. You were back to your old roots of being a vicious, wild succubus who lacks control of your hunger.

Michael had to weave through the crowd desperately looking everywhere for you, sometimes pushing other people and mistaking some as you by accident because of your costume. When the song was finally over and he could see entire stage clearly, the band was making their way off and the crowd finally became loose again. He still couldn’t find you anywhere. He started panicking, making his way inside the estate to search.

Inside the estate, there was a private dressing room for the band where they kept their instruments and other possessions. You were there, waiting by the locked door, hearing the men laughing and conversing with each other. But the lead singer’s voice reverberating in the room sounded like nails to a chalkboard to you, your blood boiling every time he chuckles and gets all excited about bullshit. That man doesn’t get to laugh. He doesn’t deserve this kind of talent. You kept fantasizing about ripping out his voice box with your own bare hands, clawing at his throat like a goddamn vice.

Blending with the shadows to taunt them, you find your way inside and locked the door. The men were behind a huge curtain where they couldn’t see you, still laughing and drinking together. Such fickle souls, perfect to be tormented alone in a dismal night like this. As much as you wanted the lead singer gone, you couldn’t help but take predatory thrill in agonizing the rest of the men that was soon to face the worse demise. Maybe they weren’t all that innocent, either. They could add in to the main course for the night.

You decided to do this the old fashioned way, stripping off your puffer jacket, crop top, skirt, stockings, and shoes. You wanted to feel their splattering crimson blood all over your bare skin. Wearing nothing but a matching bra and panty set, you stayed behind the curtain and cleared your throat.

“Excuse me? Can you gentlemen help me with something, please?”

All of them suddenly stop talking at the sound of your coaxing, provocative, coy voice behind the curtain. You sauntered your way towards them, all of them holding their breaths in star struck silence, admiring your devilish beauty and stunning body. All doe-eyed, slothful, yearning, making eye contact with all five males. That glimmer in your eyes that makes a man lose his mind like your boyfriend…

“Woah. Didn’t know we got a groupie for tonight,” one of the men chuckled, their disgusting eyes that deserves to be gouged out staring at you from head to toe.

“How can we help you, miss?” said the lead singer, your nose involuntarily flaring in furtive anger at him.

“Well… if you wanna come behind the curtains here, I have something I’d like to show all of you. A gift from your biggest fan.”

The dumb men easily fell into your trap, following you behind the curtain only for them to realize you disappeared. Eyebrows furrowing, some baffled by where the hell you just went. But you were hanging right above on the high ceiling, like a predatory creature on all fours, using your succubus powers to fuck with the lights and make them flicker until they’re in the dark.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Why’s the door locked? I can’t fucking open it!”

“Goddamnit. We’re stuck in here! Where the hell is that bitch?”

It’s been so long since you’ve utilized your tentacles. With a disturbing screech and growl, your wings that you finally let free transfigured into slimy tentacles that snatched the men and threw them across the room one by one, leaving the lead singer alone on purpose. You grinned widely from hearing them scream, curse, and panic in a room where no one could find them nor hear them. Your tentacles shove right into their mouths, silencing them forever until you were ready to eat them for later. And when you left the singer in prolonged, tense silence, you can feel the rapid, erratic beating of his heart that was soon to be gone…

“I went through Hell and came back… to finally kill you.”

For the past ten minutes, you weren’t answering your phone. Michael searched most of the estate, underestimating how big and maze-like the structure of the place was that he literally got lost. But when he was passing by a group of girls coming from the restroom, he overheard a conversation that immediately caught his attention.

“…yeah, but I was a little shy to go inside the dressing room. Flirt With Death always has groupies in there fucking or something…”

It all finally registered in Michael’s brain. Why you suddenly ran away, why you’re nowhere to be found. He was disappointed in himself for not realizing earlier, not even recognizing the band playing that was right in front of his eyes. He decided to turn into another narrow hallway where there were few people, running through each room with panic as he was still looking for you. When he found a dressing room that was apparently locked, he looked for any objects or furniture nearby that could barge open the door.

Don’t fucking tell me you did it, Y/N…

He grabbed a heavy chair, smashing it several times on the door knob to break it. He knew that he was damaging property, but he did not give a shit. The party was loud enough to block the banging sounds. Nobody was around, there were not even any cameras that he could detect in the ceiling. But he kept jamming and jamming the knob until it finally broke off, hastily shoving the door open. And the moment he noticed the room was dark and quiet, he immediately knew.

“And If I ever find the people that did this to me, I want to kill them...” He recalled your words from a year ago when you told him the truth. “And you can’t stop me, Michael. They deserve to rot in Hell for this...”

You actually fucking did it.

When Michael switched on the lights, the entire dressing room was a wretched mess covered in blood. On the walls, on the floor, some splattered onto the ceiling… It was the scene of a fucking massacre. As if a giant bucket of blood spilled and flooded the entire place. He held his breath and his eyes widened in horror, scanning the corpses with all their guts and organs hideously torn apart and some spilling out, laying in a pool of fresh crimson blood.

His gaze slowly drifted to you in the middle of the room— your wings were spread, your eyes were a different color, and your half-naked body was completely draped in fresh blood. You were feeding on the man that you told him about, the man you’ve been wanting to kill for the longest; plunging to the depths of his rufescent flesh.

“…Babe?” Michael uttered, ever so slowly and cautiously ambling closer to you. You hissed at him and bared your fangs, immediately halting a few feet away from you in underlying fear.

You took a few moments to recognize Michael’s face, trying so hard to fight the urge of accidentally eating him as well. You were slowly coming down from your frenzied, blood lust state, your sharpened eyes scanning the bloody room. The band that became famous from the lead singer selling his soul is now dead. His diabolic soul finally rotting in Hell where he belongs…

Michael inched closer, watching the way your eyes turn back to its normal color and your wings closing. “Come. Let’s go home,” your loving boyfriend insisted, holding out his hand. “I’ll wash you up and then I’ll order us something to eat.”

Holding onto him and letting him cover you up with his jacket and his arm around you, it felt as if the raging and feral tides of your soul were finally at rest. His love for you was like floating in a warm pool of warm honey and velvet; you enthralled in this beautiful rhythm of sensations that fill your energies. Leaning over to give you a gentle, reassuring kiss that was so soft, so plush, a reminder that you belong to each other forever and nothing else in this world matters.

Because when you got home that night, Michael completely forgot about washing you up and instead pressed you against the door just to kiss you. Your lungs filling with wicked lust, bodies melting together like caramel as your needy desires take over. Not even waiting a fraction of a second to settle down at home, he couldn’t fucking wait any longer. And you couldn’t either…

“Mm— Michael,” you sighed out. “I thought you were… we were gonna…”

“Shh, shh. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. But… after seeing you tonight like that, I— I feel like something awakened in me, or… fuck, I just want you right now…”

You chuckled. “Awakened something in you?”

As much as Michael wanted to admit it, he was ashamed. “Nah, forget it. C’mon, let’s shower together.”

“Uh-uh. I’m not gonna go until you tell me.”

Michael had to mentally prepare before cringing at his own words. Recollecting himself and trying not to make things awkward, he pursed his lips and finally confessed. “Ugh, fine... When I saw your, uh— tentacles… I just thought about, you know— if you could tie me up with them?”

Never in your years of living as a succubus had a filthy, raunchy idea like this ever cross your mind. But were you opposed to it? Deep down, you were turned on by it. Tying Michael to one of your dining chairs, his wrists bound behind him as you straddled on top and teased him with your tentacles. As you kept kissing him and grinding on his thigh, one of your tentacles were wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it simultaneously that his precum was already leaking. Hearing his cute moans and whimpers gradually get louder, struggling to kiss back or try to touch you when he forgot he was tied up… you were so turned on that you kept struggling to kiss back as well.

He will never stop recalling the time when he first saw you in your succubus form, the time when something shifted within him. Not only was he turned on by your hot physical appearance as a maneating demon, but by your feral, wild, vicious behavior of ripping apart men and eating them greedily. He felt inclined to obey you, and only you; like holding him captive and chaining him up tight in the dark, making him quiver and gasp for every unobtainable breath of air. Ruin him, hurt him, mark him, corrupt him, just fucking use him for your pleasure…

As you kept riding him and stroking him, the tip of your noses press against each other in the heat of the moment. His jaw was slackened and his brows were furrowed from the white-hot waves of sensation coursing in his body.

“Fuck, Y/N— you’re so… God, I love you. I fucking love you.”

“I love you, too,” you cooed sweetly in his ear, hearing him respond with a slutty groan when you increased the pace. He involuntarily bucks his hips into the grip of your slimy tentacles, throwing his head back and clenching his fists tighter.

“I’m not gonna last, babe. I’m not gonna last— I need you to ride me, please. Please sit on my dick. I’m begging you, Y/N— God, I need to cum inside you…”

Michael's pleads were so adorable to you, it would be absolutely ruthless to deny his orgasm like that. There was just something so beautiful about a man pleading to you if he could cum inside you; something so irresistible about hearing the urgency with which he begs for permission.

“Aw, look at you. So fucking needy for me,” you teased as the tentacle stroking his aching cock slipped away. “Once you come, I’m not gonna stop riding you... You have to fucking take it.”

After hearing your words, Michael felt like he was gonna fucking explode. He was shattered. His stomach was tied up in knots the moment you planted yourself on his cock with all your weight, throwing his head back in such euphoria. His face flushed red as he watched you ride him, his cock disappearing into your pussy like magic and then reappearing much more wet and slick. He wanted to fucking touch you so bad. He wanted to adjust himself so he could thrust up into you and slap your ass like he’d always do. But with you in complete control over him, he was in a fucking bliss— his orgasm was building up already without a warning.

“Fuck, fuck… I’m so close, Y/N.”

Dizzy with desire, you felt as if you were getting closer as well as you kept riding on his dick. You can feel himself throbbing as he could feel you pulsing around him. Your fingernails were digging onto his skin, drawing your mouth closer to his and kissing him while parting away just to moan pathetically. Your thighs started to twitch, and your body thundered with tension and neediness. Every goddamn thrust and movement of your hips had you seeing stars. It was hard to pinpoint the differences between your bloodlust frenzy and your sexual frenzy— both of them had your hunger consumed and your body ablaze…

“Oh my God… Keep fucking riding me like that. You enjoy bouncing on my cock like a hot little slut, huh?”

“I’m— I’m the one that’s supposed— supposed to tease you like that, fuck,” you whined out, immediately cut off by him kissing you and humming in your mouth.

“At least I can think straight when I’m fucking you. Whenever you come— ah, fuck— you always go so dumb on my cock.”

“Oh? But you love when I do that. Just keep thinking about… the times you fucked me so hard that, I— I lost my mind…”

“You’re gonna come, Y/N. I can already tell. Fuck, I wish I can fuck up into you right now so I can pound that pretty fucking pussy…”

You tried so hard not to give him the satisfaction so quick, but your body had already betrayed you. Your lips clashed with his in urgency as too many sensations hit you all at once. As you kept bouncing your ass on him, the sounds of sticky skin clapping together slowed down as you felt that erratic pounding in your pussy and the feeling of Michael’s cum shooting inside you and pooling down onto the base of his dick. His forehead falls onto yours, shutting his eyes as you both sat there for a few minutes collecting your breaths. You let the tentacles release him so he could finally hold you and run his hands all over you, keep you in place just so you could cockwarm him.

Your softened eyes meet with his, prompting you to smile at how cute he looks. His eyes glittered like he was smitten, madly in love, the same expression he always makes every morning when you wake up. After a couple of ardent kisses, the two of you just didn’t feel like moving yet.

“So. I hope you enjoyed our anniversary so far,” Michael chuckled. “Especially after you finally got your revenge. That was fucking badass.”

You mirrored his chuckle, smirking in amusement as you kept replaying the scenes in your head of murdering the men. “You still haven’t cleaned me up yet, you know.”

“Yeah… but if we were to shower together right now, you know damn well we’re gonna go for round two. Maybe three, four, or five…”

“Then what are we waiting for…?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. The nearest exit will be on your left. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by rin237 on instagram ♥︎

obviously inspired by Jennifer’s Body (2009.) if you read my previous fic “ flirt with death “ this is the sequel.

𖤐 TAGS. @aft0nsimp @crysugu @rinshoe @kimekioo @porcelain_clown @willsdollface @zippertwat @strawstfu @maddietries @yourfavoriteobnoxiousomnisexual @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @bru1sedclavicle @hehehehesthings @dvafoxxystrashcan @dorkfilmz

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i saw a thirst trap of carlisle cullen last night and i immediately thought about a steddie twilight au but where eddie falls for steve, the patriarch of that weird-ass foster family that just moved to town at the start of eddie's third go at senior year (he moved to hawkins to stay with his uncle and try this last time to graduate after people in his home town keep only thinking of his now convict dad whenever they see eddie. maybe now he can actually graduate without all the teachers holding a grudge).

steve, or Dr. Harrington to the folks of Hawkins, who studied medicine to help people after he was attacked in his early 20s by an actual vampire his father was trying to hunt down after it killed steve's mother

steve, who forced himself to feed on animals, to not take a single breath when he went to his best friend robin's home after being changed to tell her goodbye

steve, who winds up changing robin too (accidentally biting her? he comes back not a year later and robin's sick? idk)

steve, who just kept collecting kids by accident when he'd find them on the brink of death, all throughout his long life.

steve and robin, who are now professionals at pretending to be married (and have been officially platonically married loads of times at this point).

eddie, who skids his car roughly into chrissy cunningham's in the school parking lot after they've just come back from winter break and they both end up bonding over the ride in the ambulance/long wait in the hospital

chrissy, who immediately clocks eddie's reaction to Dr. Harrington as soon as he walks in the room and relentlessly (lovingly) torments him about it from then on.

something something eddie falls for steve the otherworldly being and steve who falls just as hard for this entirely breakable human

classic miscommunications about "He's married!", "He's still totally into you though.." and "Oh my god he thinks I'm married...That's why he's not flirting back!", "And why did it take you so long to realize this?"

dr. harrington's meddling kids (who somehow look just like steve even though they're fosters??? ("They're vampires Chris, they've got to be.")) trying to push eddie on their 'dad' and eddie's 'robin' chrissy on their robin...

idk idk i just can't help but think about a twilight au now lmao

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST

Unchained Melody (Part One)

Summary: It had been almost two years since you had become overwhelmed by motherhood, fleeing from both your husband and son in attempts to escape the suffocating blanket of worries and self-doubt that had enveloped you. With a life now filled with poverty, you scrimp and save every shilling, every penny to make the costly weekly journey to catch a glimpse of your son from afar at the market. But your usual Sunday trip back to Birmingham suddenly turns your life upside down for a second time when you are unexpectedly faced with the presence of your husband and his refusal to let you do anything but return to Arrow house, back to him and your son.

Warnings: Language, angst, smut, mutual pining, postpartum depression

Word count: 4993

Authors Note: This series is inspired by another oldie but goldie, "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Tommy's feelings will be heavily influenced by the lyrics of this melodic and timeless song throughout the story. The song Y/N sings to William is an old British classic called "I do like to be beside the seaside" .

"Calling at Birmingham New Street ladies and gentlemen, Birmingham New Street " the ticket conductor shouted walking briskly along the carriageway, going from coach to coach announcing the last and final call. One year, seven months and fifteen days. You thought to yourself picking at the frayed upholstered chair you was sitting on as a single solemn tear slipped over the curve of your cheek down into your lap, escaping the pools of your eyes too quickly for you to brush away. Not now Y/N. Don't start. You scolded yourself, not wanting to bring your fellow passengers' attention to your escaping emotions as you let yourself sink into the guilt you had been keeping tightly against your chest for almost two years, keeping it hidden from the vicious judgment and critical eyes it was undoubtedly worthy of as you did every Sunday you made the journey back to Birmingham, every Sunday you desperately tried to get a glimpse of your son from afar. Brushing the steady flow of tears from your face, you turned your head to the window, wiping the condensation that had built up on the tempered glass to see your reflection staring back at you, cruelly forcing you to see what you had become. Ragged clothing, unkempt hair and chapped hands, reddened from the countless hours you had worked night and day laundering linen for people that resembled your former self. You were unrecognisable, a far cry from the woman you once were, the wife and mother you once were. Broken and beaten, you were barely getting by with the hand life had dealt you. How had it come to this?

Nineteen and half months ago...

"He's crying darling. Y/N?" Tommy said, walking into the nursery after a relentless day in the city to find you in the rocking chair, aimlessly looking out the window as your son wailed loudly in your arms. You were starting to worry him. He'd been so occupied trying to make things legitimate for his new family that the long days he had spent with his head buried in paperwork were slowly turning into long sleepless nights stuck within the four walls of his office. The birth of his son had ignited an unstoppable force within him to keep the two people he loved the most safe and away from the wickedness of the world he himself played a role in, all at the behest and advice of those around him. He just had one more thing to do, one more thing to finalise, then he would stop. He'd promised himself.

"Tommy..." You muttered, blankly looking up at him as he took William from within your hold, the sudden quietness from his father's comforting warm arms snapping you out of your trance-like state. "He's hungry" you said as you picked up the small brown bear among all the various necessities needed to care for a child of only four months. "He just...he won't feed properly. Won't settle" you huffed, internally blaming yourself as you wiped the front of your blouse, reaching for your son, then suddenly recalling, afraid if you took him he'd start crying again. Was it you that unsettled him?

"He dropped his bear love, that's all. Maybe getting some teeth as well, ey little man?" Tommy said, looking at William as he tried to diffuse the criticism you were undoubtedly burdening yourself with. "Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed, pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as tears welled in your eyes. You were slowly drifting away from him, he could feel it. But with Tommy being a man true to his time, he felt powerless as to what to do, what to say. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on. The British way...maybe the wrong way. You'd pull through, wouldn't you? "We'll fetch him some warm cow's milk or a wet nurse, so you can get some sleep"

"No. No Tommy!" You angered quickly at the mere suggestion of anyone but you feeding your son, determined to battle through whatever it was that had a grasp on you without aid. "You think I'm a bad mum, don't you? You think I can't look after him?" you sobbed, your temper and fatigue spilling over into an angry display of pointing fingers and high emotions. You knew you were being unfair, you just...you couldn't help it. You needed an outlet for your mounting frustration, and unfortunately for Tommy he had the unlucky pleasure of being at the receiving end of it.

"Darling, I never said..." Tommy huffed, before you took your son back into your arms and your position in the rocking chair, your eyes fixing on a small light in the distance beyond the grounds of Arrow House as Williams bottom lip wobbled and his whimpers resumed. What would he do without you? Tommy reflected, a sudden feeling of guilt washing over him for all the nights he had spent away as he watched you in admiration, humming a soothing tune to his son, your fingers stroking gently over the curve of his ear and massaging the soft cushioned lobe until his cries quietened and he fell asleep. You were just tired, the small surprise weekend away in Blackpool he had planned in a few days time for the three of you would see an end to your worries. Sea air and sandy beaches, just what any doctor would order. Then he'd stop, he'd try harder. He'd promised himself.

" Fuck baby...you feel so good" Tommy moaned against your ear, his labored breath hot against your skin. "Let me make you feel good eh?" He said breathlessly, sliding his finger down between you both as he pressed on the small bundle of nerves swollen from his thrusts. Just relax. You told yourself. And for the love of god, stop fucking thinking too much. You berated yourself once again as you closed your eyes, a feeling of guilt pooling in your stomach from the little attention and affection you had given your husband since the birth of your son. One month since you were last intimate, one full month since you had let him get close to you. Had he been with someone else? Your brain quickly panicked at the thought of him with another woman when a hard thrust from Tommy had you moaning into his shoulder, your hands threading through his soft hair as he kissed down your neck sending a ripple of goosebumps over your body.

"Wait...Tommy not there" you pulled his head up as his tongue swiped over your nipple. "Shit" you huffed as a trickle of milk flowed down your cleavage whilst you frantically scrambled for the freshly laundered sheets to wipe away your embarrassment.

"Y/N, darling, it's ok" Tommy chuckled, kissing tenderly around your swollen breast as he rocked his hips into you, his thrusts suddenly intensifying when his eyes darted down to between you both. "Stop. Let me see you" he said, pushing your self-conscious hands away from shielding your stomach from the small scars you bared from nine months of carrying his child. " Fuck sweetheart...look at you" He moaned watching himself drive in and out of you, his wet length glistening, the sight sending a surge of pleasure through his throbbing cock. He's so into it. Why? Was he just saying these things, was he thinking of another woman? Your mind plagued you as you reluctantly kept your hands by your side. You felt like shit, looked worse than shit. That and your mind was elsewhere, to a never ending timetable of feeds and nappy changes you seemed incapable of getting right. As the room filled with the moans of your husband and the sound of his body basking in the awaited comfort of you he'd been patiently longing for, your eyes drifted over his lean shoulders to your suitcase covered by the netted curtains of your grand bedroom window. With the sudden fear that you had already made your decision, you turned your head to your husband, crashing your lips onto his as you held tightly onto his broad frame. Would this be the last time? The last time you felt the weight of his body on top of yours?

"Tommy..." you whimpered, a tear falling down the side of your cheek, desperate to tell him how much you were struggling as he gasped at your sudden eagerness, unaware of your inner turmoil in the throes of his own pleasure as a surge of electricity fueled by adoration pumped through his body, his imminent high quickly approaching. With every part of you clutching onto him, tightly clenching you both to a daze of heightened arousal, you let go, loudly crying your husband's name.

" Fuck...i'm gonna, Y/N I'm..." Tommy moaned incoherently into the curve of your neck as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh and his hips came to a sudden stop, releasing the built up tension he had been desperate to be rid of inside the tight warmth of your body with a shaky groan leaving his lips. "We've still got it eh?" Tommy chuckled breathlessly moments later as he settled down beside you, pulling you into his strong hold.

"Still" you replied quietly as you turned your head to look at him." I love you" you said longingly, your voice catching in your throat as you buried your face into his chest, hiding the shame in your eyes of the choice you knew you had made.

" I love you too. Y/N what's..." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him, cutting his words off and what he really wanted to ask, as the glazed over look in your eyes sent an uncomfortable heavy feeling of worry to the pit of his stomach. The far-away look in your eyes frightening him more than any enemy he had ever come up against. You were just tired, he'd call Polly tomorrow morning to come and help you with the baby. Tommy reassured himself as he held you tightly in his arms, his hand cupping the side of your head as he pressed a yearning kiss to your temple. This weekend would fix everything.

" Y/N...baby's crying..." Tommy mumbled half asleep as he rolled over, so used to you being the first to bolt up and hurry to your sons' whimpers. A dairy cow in human form, a living comforter to aid your son to sleep. You couldn't help but feel as you rubbed the fatigue from your dry eyes, another surge of guilt hurtling your way for thinking such things.

"Shhh darling, mummy's here" you said flatly as you approached his bassinet, picking him up and cradling him in your arms. "Please William, please stop crying. I'm so tired, I'm..." you sobbed, caressing his soft skin as you placed the tip of your finger to his mouth for him to suckle on. "What do I do? Help me William" you cried quietly in desperation, rocking him back and forth in your arms as you looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down your face, your mind absent from the fact you were doing it, you were doing everything any mother would do in an attempt to soothe their child. Why couldn't you see it? "I don't know what's wrong with me" you sobbed to yourself, sniffing away the tears as you looked down at your son, his finger holding tightly onto yours as Frances the housekeeper listened outside the nursery door, her hand firmly enclosed around the handle, every part of her wanting to enter and magic your distress away. The thousand yard stare, they called it. She had seen it with her sister after the birth of her niece and then she saw it with you, the moment Tommy returned to work, popping your little bubble of the three of you lying in bed blissfully happy within the comfort of one another. She'd talk to Tommy in the morning. She promised herself as she backed away from the door, and back to her duties. She promised.

"Oh I do like to be beside...the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea" you sang quietly, your bottom lip wobbling with each passing word. "I love you, I love you so much" you cried as you placed your son back into his cot, pulling out your handkerchief with your name embroidered delicately in the center for him to hold, hoping the scent of you engraved into the light fabric would comfort him in your absence." I'm sorry William, I...I can't be the mother you need " you sobbed as his little fingers clutched around the small piece of cotton. "Daddy will look after you, better than I can" you said as you bent down, placing a tender kiss to his head. "I just need a little break, a small one. I'll be back, I promise" Your voice broke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gently glided your finger over his ear, caressing his soft skin and gently lulling him into sweet dreams and slumber. "Goodbye my love, my sweet, sweet boy" you cried, turning to the door and shutting it as a searing pain shot through your chest, through your shattered heart and the unbreakable bond a mother shares with her child, tearing and fraying from what you was about to do. Would you ever be able to come back from this?

"Come back to bed darling..." Tommy mumbled as you stood beside him, running your hands through the top of his hair, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response to your gentle touch as he lazily reached for your hand before his weighted eyes and tired body drifted him back into a heavy sleep.

"Soon Tommy..." You replied, muffling your sobs as you picked up your suitcase and turned to the door, glancing back one last time to your husband, to the love of your life. Meters away, it may as well have been miles. You thought to yourself as you came to the end of the long driveway of your home when the light of your son's bedroom suddenly turned on in the far distance and the loud call of your name from the depths of your husband's lungs resonated throughout the grounds. There was no going back now, it was done. They were better off without you.

Present day...

"Fuck sake" you mumbled quietly, hiding your face in your shoulder as you frantically wiped your tears away from the memory of the night when you abandoned your family and your former self. As you cursed yourself for being being so weak, so feeble, the small girl seated opposite you scrunched her brow in confusion, her little thoughts plagued with worry as to what had you so upset, as her mother, who looked as tired and weighed down with her own misgivings, sent you a sympathetic knowing smile.

"Hardly the time and place to let one's emotions get the better of them, this is public transport not a woman's bloody wash house" a man seated next to you clothed in the finest of suits grumbled rolling his eyes, begrudging the fact the train was not divided by class when the engine suddenly came to a stop and the mother ushered her daughter out of the carriage giving the gentleman a stern look, all while her daughter conveniently stepped onto, rather than other the pompous man's foot dirtying his perfectly polished loathers. "The little..." He spat as he folded his newspaper in half, turning to face you as if you had a role in the small girls worthy retribution. "Thiefs, whores and murderers. What would one except from this dump they call the second-biggest city in England" he seethed looking at you from head to toe as you stood to leave when he crassly stuck his foot out, causing you to fall face first onto the grimy train floor as a satisfied scoff left his lips. You were nothing to him, a beggar, the scum of the slums of the city he reluctantly found himself in. With no will or want to confront him about what you believe you undoubtedly deserved, you stood up, wiping the front of your dress down and adjusting your hat with only one thing on your mind...your son.

" Excuse me...please, excuse me" you said, pushing your way through the bustling market. You were already late, and with only the briefest of opportunities to get a glimpse of your child until another full seven days passed, and he made his Sunday outing with Frances again, you were desperate to see him. Standing by a stall filled with seasonal fresh fruits and juices you adjusted your woven hat, pushing the knotted strands of hair behind your ears in attempt to make yourself look proper, more presentable. Who were you kidding, you were but a ghost in a crowd full of people. Your disheveled appearance your only shield and cover from any potential sightings of yourself that could be relayed back to your husband. If he cared to know. You thought to yourself as you raised your head, your breath suddenly catching in your throat. There he was, your William. Watching from a distance, you followed his small wobbly steps, his hand holding tightly onto France's as the sun beamed down on them, heading with determination to the market stall he made a beeline for every Sunday. Perching yourself on a large wooden barrel next to a shelf of neatly stacked bottles of cider, you smiled as your shaky fingers came up to cover the joy on your lips as your former housekeeper picked up your son and showed him all the various jars of sweets and lollipops his wondrous eyes were beaming at. "Barley Sugars" you whispered, a small laugh leaving your lips as he pointed to his favorite and only choice of sweets whilst Frances tried to coax him into trying something different, when a smartly dressed man stood beside them turned around. Tommy.

"Barley Sugars again, eh?" Tommy chuckled, nodding to the stallholder as he reached into his pocket for a penny, smiling lovingly at the boy that resembled you more with each passing day. Wha...what was he doing here? You panicked at the unexpected sight of your husband, the last time being the night you had left him sleeping soundly in your shared bed. With shaky legs and your panicked eyes darting frantically around the market for any of his men, you slid off the barrel stumbling backwards into the shelf of cider, causing a small commotion of crashing glass and spilled beverages.

"You'll 'av to pay for that, miss" The seller frowned, waving his finger at you as he came marching around his stall to your trembling body frantically picking up the shattered glass, apologising profusely for the days' takings and mess you had made. With unsteady feet you stood up, your eyes cast down at the muddied ground, unable to meet the piercing stare you could already feel boring into you with every stifled breath that left your lips.

"Y/N..." Tommy whispered as he steadied himself against the wooden frame of the market stand, his knees buckling, his eyes widening in disbelief as time and everything around him suddenly slowed to an abrupt stillness, his ears deafening him with a piercing high-pitched whistle. "Y/N" he voiced louder, as the sound of the teeming market entered his muffled eardrums and your sheepish eyes finally met his." Y/N" Tommy called your name again as he pushed through the crowds of people, his eyes fixed on you as you started walking backwards, tears welling in your eyes from the panic firmly setting in."Y/N Shelby!" His voiced boomed into the crisp spring air, gaining everyone's attention, his brisk pace turning into a quickened run as he stumbled past people in a frantic attempt to get to you. "No! Don't you dare!" He bellowed, fear tightening in his chest as he watched you turn and run out of the market when he misplaced his foot and fell forward, tripping over the curb of the path as the end of your dress glided behind the corner of the bricked wall and out of sight.

" Shit...shit!" You sobbed running through the cobbled streets as you scanned the neighborhood in a frenzy of labored breaths and hysterical cries for somewhere to hide. What was he doing here?

" Hey, hey!" Tommy said, turning the corner onto the street you had been on mere seconds ago as he grabbed the arm of a young boy running past him with a hoop and stick in his hand. "Have you...have you seen a girl, in a...a dark red dress" Tommy asked breathlessly, whilst his mind frantically tried to make sense if what he saw was real, if you were real.

"That way, Mister" the rosy-cheeked child replied, pointing to a back alley leading to a row of terraced houses before running off to his friends that were patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the street. With shaky steps Tommy ran across the road, raising his hand in apology to a car and it's horn blaring at him from the near collision his dazed state caused. With his hands trembling, and his breath held within the tight confines of his burning lungs, Tommy turned the corner. And, there you were.

"Tommy..." You sobbed, backing up against the roughness of the slabbed wall as he stood in front of you, his own eyes welling with the unspent tears he'd been holding in for the past two years in an attempt to push away the reality of your absence.

"You're dead...I..." he said, his voice catching in his throat as he stepped closer, his brow furrowing in confusion at the acceptance he had surrendered to, now thrown into a disarray. " I.. I thought you were dead" he muttered in front of you as you shook your head, the back of his hand coming up to gingerly stroke across your cheek as the soothing coolness of his wedding band he couldn't bare to part with brushed along your delicate skin. But as the initial shock slowly started to fade, Tommy's jaw suddenly tightened and his gentle touch dug into your skin, his fingers twisting in anger as the creases of his brow deepened and the fury of feeling fooled took over. "I thought you were fucking dead!" He snapped through gritted teeth grabbing your chin, his grip painfully pushing into your flesh as he pressed his forehead to yours and his own tears spilled over between the curves of your cheeks. "Fuck!" He bellowed pushing your face away in disgust as he stumbled back to the wall opposite you, pulling his peaked cap from his head to cover his face as his body forced the contents of his stomach up onto the bricked floor. For months he had believed you had killed yourself, thrown yourself in the cut. And for months he blamed himself, burdening his body and mind with the responsibility of your death. The realisation and shock of you being alive was too much for his body to comprehend, even for someone as hardened to life as himself. " I thought you were dead..." Tommy wept quietly as he turned his head away from you, his reserved demeanour crumbling apart, leaving a man broken and tired from two years of heartbreak in its wake.

" Tommy I'm sorry, I..." You sobbed, approaching him as he put his hand out to stop you.

" No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to fucking say sorry" he sniffed back his tears cutting off your meek attempt to apologise as he stood up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his disheveled hair hanging over the perspiration sticking to his forehead." Why?" His voice wobbled barely above a whispered as he searched your eyes for an answer, his back pressed firmly against the brick wall to stop his legs from finally giving in as the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through his veins slowly dispersed and fatigue took over.

" I couldn't do it anymore Tommy, I..."

" Mummy!" a little voice caught your attention as you turned your head and your eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of your son in Frances' arms mere feet from you, his little hands reaching desperately for you as Tommy watched your panicked reaction, a scoff catching in his throat when your eyes sheepishly darted away from your son and back to him.

"Mrs Shelby..." France's voice broke as her hand flew to her mouth and tears pooled in her eyes at the sight of you standing before her. For she believed as everyone else did, that the poor Mrs Shelby had succumbed to her troubles and parted from this world, now free of her tormented mind.

" Take William to the car, Frances" Tommy ordered turning away, adjusting his coat and demeanour as he breathed heavily through his mouth, every part of him desperately trying to regain some form of composure.

" Mummy! Mummy!" Your son wailed as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you apprehensively stepped towards him with your hands out when Tommy hurried between you both, and you came face to face with the remnants of his anger firmly etched on his face once again. He didn't trust you. Your initial reaction to seeing William not good enough of one for your husband who was now evaluating your every move, your every word.

" Mummy's coming, isn't she?" Tommy said, grabbing you by your arm as he waited for a response, his jaw tightening at every passing second as his patience grew thin, unwilling to let you go, unwilling to give you an option. "Isn't she?"

" Yes" you whispered, nodding your head as Frances hurried to the car with William wailing loudly in her arms.

" Look at you" Tommy said, glaring at you from head to toe, his words laced in disdain as he took off your hat, throwing it to the muddied ground with despise. Disheveled clothes, matted hair and muddied fingers. He had given you the world, given you a warm home, anything you could have wished for and yet you chose this, a life of labor and poverty over him and your son. With a mind clouded with fury, Tommy was doing what he promised he'd never do to all the gods he had prayed to, all his ancestors he had pleaded to if they would just grant him one thing, and bring you back into his arms. He was judging you.

" Wh...why is he calling me mummy?" you said, sobbing as you hurried alongside Tommy's quickened pace, his hand still painfully grasped onto your arm, dragging you with him to the car. William was only four months old when you left, he didn't know who you were, did he? " Tommy?"

"Just fucking move Y/N" Tommy said, opening the car door and pushing you in, slamming it behind him with enough force to frighten William into tears again. " Frances, please" Tommy sighed pinching his brow, his elbows resting on the steering wheel as William cried loudly in the back of the car. As Frances tended to your child, searching for his brown bear she feared he may have dropped in all the commotion, you kept your eyes fixed firmly ahead of you, your hands clasped in your lap not daring to look at anyone as shame engulfed you and reality hit home that you would now have to face not only what you did but everyone in your life you had left. Tommy had now plunged you head first back into a world you had abandoned without an ounce of sympathy or understanding, the anxiety of what awaited you was becoming unbearable.

Pulling up to Arrow house, the confines of the car were silent, and had been for the majority of the journey with William now soundly asleep in France's arms, the only audible noise being that of the muddied driveway of your forgotten home and the sound of Tommy's flesh gripping tightly onto the stirring wheel. He was furious, the moment he could have only dreamed of as he sought solitude in the pits of grief now engulfed with hatred. As Tommy and Frances exited the car, you stood seated, panic suddenly enveloping you, your body unable to move as you watched the familiar faces of the grounds men coming to a halt as they squinted into the car and at your face they thought they'd never see again. You wanted to run, not from the heavy weight bearing down on your heart but run from their critical eyes and the things you were sure you could hear them saying.

" Get out" Tommy said opening your door, pulling you out and marching you to the front of your once, shared home.

" Tommy" a lady beamed upon seeing him as she waited in the foyer, her dark brown locks cut into a bob bouncing on her shoulders with every step she took as your husband stormed through the grand entrance with your arm grasped tightly between his fingers. "And who's this?" she frowned looking at you from head to toe, her assumptions of you firmly setting in stone from your appearance alone. A thief no doubt, or a whore. She thought turning her nose up at you as her crimson nails curled into her palms as she crossed her arms, ready to have you thrown off the grounds or better, dumped in a ditch. You had no place in this grand house, in the house she was now not only the governess of, but a woman that the maids and workers believed had wormed her way into ruling the manor Tommy had abandoned his interest and care for to the grief of losing you. " Well, who are you?"

" She's my wife"

PART TWO

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird

[whoistartaglia]

genshin men as types of influencers

part two

alhaitham has an account dedicated to his books. his feed is filled with aesthetic photos of his bookshelves, and videos include updates on his reading list, monthly favorites, and book reviews. might also post his favorite quotes and explanations as to why they are his favorite.

kaveh makes DIY tutorials on home projects. he’s surprising thorough in explaining the projects and showing his audience how to do them. such projects include home gardens, bookshelves (he definitely made alhaitham’s), birdhouses, and fixing repairs around the home.

itto has a workout account. he is a gym bro and definitely records all his sets, personal records, favorite workout routines. definitely a couple more than a couple pictures of him flexing his muscles, and he definitely forced members of the arataki gang to film him.

ayato posts get-ready-with-me’s. his channel is filled with morning and night routines, and he has one for every season and occasion. some are a little too specific—did he really need a “get ready with me for bed after a long day working and then going out to dinner with friends?” maybe, but his viewers eat it up anyways.

zhongli is a lifestyle influencer. he’s not necessarily a vlogger, but definitely makes videos highlighting his daily routine, favorite products he uses throughout the day, and sometimes restaurant and store reviews. his videos definitely have either soft piano or clam lofi beats playing in the background.

childe is a vlogger, but like an extremely hot-mess of a vlogger. his videos are mostly unedited and include him just living his life. you will see his highs and lows in his videos, and even a glimpse into what he does for work—it’s cute, if you can ignore that he’s literally filming himself beating someone up!

wanderer has an account dedicated to his travels. he refuses to show in face in his videos, but he will document his journey around teyvat. it’s more of a pet project than anything else, and some of his videos are genuinely interesting; him filming what the sky looks from each nation, for example.

kaeya is a beauty influencer. posts range from doing his eyeliner to picking out his outfits to shopping and reviewing new products. his makeup tutorials are very well informed and he has amassed a base of loyal fans who wait for his approval on certain products and brands.

diluc has a cat (yes he does) and has an account dedicated to said cat. his feed is filled with pictures of the feline, sprinkled in with some videos diluc filmed of the cat being particularly cute and/or getting into trouble. diluc never intended to become a pet influencer—he just of just started posting his cat on his main and it took off from there.

[bones4thecats]

Their S/O Assists Them With Their Hair

Characters: Cater Diamond, Leona Kingscholar, Jamil Viper, and Idia Shroud Inspired By: The multiple cards A/N: I have been laying this off to the side for such a long time so I decided to finally write this. Also, I've been having a hard time with the border around the images, so I changed it. Anyways, have fun reading this!! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing. Just pure fluff ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Cater Diamond ══════════════════════════╝

💎 Cater doesn't change his hair up very often, only making it different when he has special events such as performances for the music club

💎 One day, you received a text from Cater asking if you were going to their next concert the following week, in which you just smiled and replied with a happy yes

💎 You knew from Cater's many messages and calls from his club meetings that they were getting more and more excited and anxious for the day that it came and they would set up and play to their heart's content

💎 Over the passing week, everyone could see how happy the group was, and you had a front seat to it. Since Cater would send you photo and video after one and another of them having fun getting ready

💎 Then came the day

💎 Cater was beyond stressed out, scrolling through his feed to find the perfect hairstyle that he could use for that night, to which you sighed and laid back on his bed as he stressed

"Cater, Honey, are you sure you know what you don't want any help?"

"Yep! Just give me a minute. I'm sure I can find the perfect hairdo!"

💎 The sound of his shoes hitting the floor in a circular motion was giving you a headache, so after about four more minutes, you slapped your hands on the nearby table and told him to sit down

💎 Cater was shocked when you took his phone from his grip and secured it into your pants pocket before grabbing his shoulders and forcing him back on his butt

"Thankfully, Vil taught me enough during the time I spent helping with the VDC. Now, just sit down and relax, I'm sure I can figure something out quick."

💎 As you walked around the bathroom and grabbed multiple brushes and clips to hold his hair as your designed it, Cater watched memorized, you really were beautiful when helping others, weren't you?

💎 It took a mere ten extra minutes for you to decide and fix up his hair, making it into a shaggy-crop style. You smiled and kissed his forehead as he stood up and adjusted a couple light-up weave-like pieces and allowed rose his phone, which you gave back halfway through styling, and took a selfie of you and him

"Hashtag: 'Cay-Cay's S/O' , 'Cay-Cay Getting Ready' , and 'NRC Music Club BTS'. "

"Good luck, Cater."

"Thank you so much, Love Bug."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Leona Kingscholar ════════════════════════╝

🦁 He, unlike other beastman, doesn't enjoy having his hair touched. He does it a certain way and doesn't want it to be messed with like how his brother would do

🦁 This means that every time you would ask to style his hair, he would just open one eye, say no, and then lay down on you. Claiming you as his makeshift pillow for one of his many daytime naps

🦁 To actually get him to agree, you'd most likely have to either wait until a couple months into dating or marriage, and we all wanna know what his hair feels like, don't we?

🦁 Now, when you finally got to touch his hair, Leona had come back to his room drained from the long day. He had gone to all of his classes and then Magift practice. All without a single nap throughout the day

🦁 The guy had practically barreled onto the sheets of his bed after throwing his bag of dirty clothes on the ground. He groaned as you chuckled, opening your arms for him to lay down there

🦁 Thankfully, Leona had taken a shower already and was perfectly clean. Not a single drop of sweat on his body. Meaning he could be curled up on you without you trying to pull/push him to take a shower to get clean

"Leona?" You asked, your head moving from the book Leona gave you a couple weeks ago. He merely growled lowly before looking up and into your eyes and asking what you wanted.

"I was just wondering... if I could- y'know. Touch your hair? You don't have to let me, I understand if you wouldn't want me too!"

🦁 Leona smirked and reached up to take his hair out of the ponytail he lodged it into after showering earlier. His long brown locks dropping down, a slight amount of water there, he obviously was to tired to spend a ton of time drying it

"Have at it."

🦁 Smiling gently as you laid the book down, you began to move his hair around gently, using your fingers like a make-shift brush (did anyone else's mom/dad/guardian do that when they were young?) to get the small knocks out

🦁 After doing that, you began to rub his scalp, allowing him to relax and let out a very low purr, though it sounded more like a satisfied hum to you, and kissed your exposed thigh. He was thankful you were wearing shorts. (Though how could you NOT? It was like over 70 degrees in that dorm!)

"Do you feel better, Leo?" You asked, only to be met with the soft snores of your boyfriend.

🦁 His larger form was hugging you tightly as you chuckled and embraced him back, nudging a blanket on top of your both. He was a lot more than a mere second-born prince to you, he was your one and only prince, from now till the day you die

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 Jamil takes pride in his hair. It has always been one of the only things that he had full control over. Throughout his life he never got full control of anything, except for things like his hair (I know this is wordy, but you get the point)

🐍 Anyways. When you had asked him to do his hair, he was getting ready to cook for the remaining Scarabia members for the spring break. Some students volunteered to stay while others left, he and Kalim volunteered to stay, along with you

🐍 You noticed that he was having a hard time keeping it out of his face, so you excused yourself from the third year and walked into the kitchen

🐍 Jamil was getting more and more frustrated, he was so close to taking the scissors and snipping his ponytail off if it won't stop getting in his way. Thankfully, the sound of your chuckles made him look up and nervously look away, embarrassment was obvious in his expression

🐍 You smiled at him and told him to sit down as he began to put some ingredients away. You had been helping Jamil cook long enough to know that the food needed to simmer for a while, just long enough for you to help him out

"Jamil, would you like your hair completely out of your face? And not done by having it shaved... or cut by kitchen utensils?"

"...yeah."

🐍 Handing him your phone as your began to take his hair out of his ponytail, you told him to just hang out and let you do what you knew best: hair styling

🐍 As you meticulously placed his hair behind his head, Jamil felt relaxed, even more relaxed then ever before. You treated his hair with the amount of care that he did. It was admirable just how much you paid attention to his reactions as you worked

🐍 After maybe a couple minutes, you had patted his hair down and gave him a cheerful done before telling him to turn the camera on and put it in selfie-mode

🐍 He did as he said and was shocked. You did beyond amazing! His hair was completely out of his face, and he didn't look half bad. He had to admit, he needed to put his hair up like that more often when he worked

🐍 Jamil stood up and hugged you, his arms giving you a snug squeeze as you chuckled and kissed his jawline. He smiled and kissed your forehead before thanking you and handing you your phone back. Right before you left though, your boyfriend called your name and asked

"Would you like to help me cook?"

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Idia Shroud ════════════════════════════╝

🎮 This guy. Ho this guy

🎮 When you guys first began dating, he was very off-handed. He was not, and still really isn't a big fan of physical touch. He just doesn't like it that much

🎮 That doesn't mean he hates it, he just prefers to simply spend time together and give you things. He sucks with his words (he overthinks like me), he has a hard time with acts of service (he doesn't go out often, so he can't do much outside of his dorm), and he has a massive issue when touched. He just freezes and stutters a lot more than before

🎮 Idia does like it when you're physically affectionate sometimes. Like when you would lean your head on his shoulder whenever he gets frustrated with a level in a game he has been working on for days to calm him down. He likes that kind of stuff

🎮 So, whenever you would ask to mess with his hair, it goes from a beautiful blue to a campfire-like orange and red, the tips being flushed with pink like his face as he stuttered and mumbled

🎮 After the first couple times, you decided to lay loose and allow him to come to you whenever he wanted you to mess with his hair. It was his choice and his consent and comfort was just as important as your own

🎮 It only took maybe a couple weeks for him to begin wondering why you weren't asking to mess with his fiery locks. But, in true Idia Shroud fashion, the male strayed away from questioning you until the thought was all he could wonder about

"Hey... Y/N?"

"Yeah, Idia?"

"D-do you think, you could maybe... y'know... mess with my hair a bit?"

"What? Please repeat louder, honey."

"Damn it... could you mess with my hair please?"

🎮 You smiled and laid your phone on Idia's desk before he moved away from his gaming chair and sat down in front of you on the bed, continuing to play his game and groan about how the 'noobs were releasing more time camping and not acting as aggro against the boss like he was'

🎮 It was funny how much gamer lingo Idia used when he was outside of class-related situations. But it was quite funny when he then began to speak of how 'op the boss was and how the rest of the players needed to get off their buts and act like true FPSs and help him defeat the bullet sponge of a boss'

(Yes I looked up gamer terms, I am dumb T^T)

🎮 You just chuckled as his face went from petrified as he ran from danger to reload his weaponry to coming up with the most determined expression you had ever seen on him. Playing these games really made him feel better than he was outside speaking to others

🎮 It lasted maybe a couple hours before Idia finally noticed you weren't playing with his long hair anymore. So, he looked up and saw you laying down asleep on his bed, one of his larger hoodies was around your top and he couldn't help but smile gently as you snoozed

🎮 He decided that he was going to lay down on the bed to, not to sleep, but to get a more comfortable angle to play in. So, he stood up and got on the bed, pulling the sheets down and over your arms and his legs before looking back at his phone, noticing it was in camera mode. He must've hit the button at the bottom as he secured his spot

🎮 Idia gasped quietly as he saw how you did his hair. It was like a mixture of multiple braids with a single thicker braid behind. The housewarden couldn't help but smile and laugh like the little dork he was

🎮 After the little giggly fit, Idia looked at you and shut off his phone before laying down next to you, holding your arm as you shuffled onto your back. He smiled and closed his eyes. If you did something so nice to him, he could at least get maybe a couple hours of sleep for you

(I have so much Idia brainrot right now it's insane)

[five-and-dimes]

Sunbeam

Part 1 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo Adoptable prompt: Cat Ears

Rating: M

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort

Summary: King of the cow Kingdom, Hob is given a cat person as a warprize, and he'd give him the very sun if he could. But perhaps some sunbeams will be good enough.

Read on AO3

It takes a village to make an au like this- It all started on our fav @gabessquishytum 's blog (specifically these posts), plus a lot of inspo from discord, and Hob's design based on the amazing art of @amielot. Thanks for feeding my obsession with this au, friends! 🤘

~~~

By the time Hob makes it back to his room, finally released from a dull morning council meeting, it is nearly afternoon. And Dream is kneeling on the floor.

It’s been a little over a week since King Hob was gifted the cat person now staying in his private chambers. When Dream had been presented to him, Hob remembers feeling a mix of emotions- rage and sorrow and confusion and offense. The bovine kingdom did not trade in people. 

(Not anymore.)

He had wanted to refuse the ‘gift’ out of principle. But he had looked down at the wounded, far too thin creature in front of him and knew immediately that he could not let him go back with his captors. So he had accepted the offering with the minimal amount of politeness to not start a war. He had beckoned the cat to him, and learned that his name was Dream, and that he was too weak to make it up the stairs to Hob’s room. His body was withered and wasted, starved and neglected, even a short walk leaving him panting and shaking. Hob had waved the guards away and lifted him up into his own arms to carry him the rest of the way.

Dream had trembled against him, no matter how Hob tried to reassure him. Part of him still wonders if it was a mistake to bring the poor man into Hob’s own chambers, to lay him on his own soft bed when his fears were so obvious. But Hob could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and scared in some strange room in the palace. In truth, he wanted desperately to care for him himself. Some part of his heart had been given to the cat the moment Hob saw him, and he was determined to see him healed. 

The first night was hard, and Dream continued shivering even as he drank from Hob’s chest, falling into a fitful sleep in Hob’s bed after being tugged away guiltily to ensure he didn’t make himself sick drinking too much too fast. In the days since, Hob has left him in his room as he went about his business throughout the day, returning to check on him and feed him, and always finding him in the exact spot on the bed where he left him. Until today.

It had been raining for much of the week, but today the sun was streaming through the open windows, the light falling vibrantly across the floor in the center of the bedroom. Dream was crouched at the edge of the thick rug placed beneath the bed, reaching one long arm out to dip just the very tips of his fingers into the light, his face full of equal parts longing and trepidation. 

It is a look Hob remembers on his own face when he was a young calf, sneaking into his mother’s study and standing on the tips of his hooves to admire her golden collar and bell. He would tap it, giggling at the heavy chime, feeling mischievous as he imagined a day in the future when the beautiful adornment would be passed on to him. He also recalls getting caught, his mother admonishing him sternly yet fondly, and the way he never once felt fear of her.

He put his grimly little child’s hands all over literal gold, and he never felt anywhere near the blatant terror he sees now on Dream’s face at being caught reaching for a sunbeam.

“I apologize, my lord,” Dream scrambled frantically back onto the bed, folding his limbs to kneel and forcing his hands to release his robe, laying them in his lap meekly. It broke Hob’s heart every time, the way he so clearly wanted to hold the robe closed around his body and just as clearly expected it to be torn away from him.

He had been given to Hob naked.

The robe he wore now was meant for a calf, too short and too wide and still the best fit they could find for the cat until the tailors finished the custom robe they were working on. Dream had been near tears when he was presented with something to cover himself, bowing his head and offering anything and everything of himself in thanks. So grateful. All for a robe that didn’t even fit.

Hob approached the bed slowly, smiling gently even when he wanted to cry for the poor creature, “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Dream shivered, keeping his gaze downcast, “I should not have moved without your permission, master.” 

Hob flinched at the title. As king he was accustomed to being referred to as lord and sire and majesty- it was only appropriate, and he did expect to be given the respect due his station. But he was no one’s master.

Right now though, he had to choose his battles. “You are free to move about the room, Dream,” it was true that Dream clearly needed rest, but his heart ached to think of Dream sitting stiffly wherever Hob ‘put him’. He turned and gestured at the sunlit spot, “You may even move some of the pillows or blankets from the bed, should you wish to lay in the sun.”

Dream looks horrified at the very idea, ears pinned back in fear, “I would never, sire,” his voice nearly pleading for Hob to believe him, as though he is being tested.

Hob feels his own ears droop, before straightening with resolve. He keeps his motions clear, walking to the bed to gather an armful of pillows. Dream keeps his head down, but his eyes follow Hob’s movements as he begins arranging the pillows on the floor where the sunlight is hitting. He adds a few blankets to the pile too, until he has a little nest in the middle of the room, soft and sunlit. 

Dream still hasn’t moved.

“Come here, Love,” Hob keeps his voice soft and soothing, but Dream still tenses when Hob scoops him up into his arms easily, so frighteningly light, “You must be hungry. Breakfast feels like ages ago.”

As much as Hob wishes he could sustain Dream with his milk alone, they had begun introducing some light foods- small morsels of fish, and select vegetables that the royal librarian deemed safe for cat people- into his breakfast and dinner. In between though, Hob fed him himself. Hob was used to being responsible for an entire kingdom, to making decisions that were far and long lasting and praying that he might make his country even a little bit better each day. And he was proud of his position, he would not trade it for anything. But there was something so special about being able to hold this one person in his arms and see the good he was doing. 

It still took some encouragement. As he settles into the nest, leaning back against the pillows and facing the window so that Dream can sit in his lap in the direct sunlight, Dream is still tense and trembling. Hob shushes him gently, slipping his shirt over his head before placing one hand at the back of Dream’s head to guide him to his chest. He remembers how confused Dream had been the first night when Hob had fed him, opening his mouth wide like he might for a different part of Hob’s body, unsure of what was expected of him. He had allowed himself to be maneuvered without any resistance until Hob was finally able to get a few drops of milk onto his tongue. He had watched as Dream’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating as he licked his lips in something like disbelief. 

After that it was a little easier. He is still nervous and hesitant, but Hob is able to press his mouth to his nipple and say, “Drink,” softly, more of a request than an order even if Dream does not yet recognize it as such. Hob shivers at the sensation as Dream begins to suckle, biting his lip to hold back a groan. He turns his gaze up to the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensation. Dream shifts in his lap and Hob has to mentally recite every trade detail he’d been given at his morning meeting in order to restrain himself from moving his hips.

The first night, Dream had looked so resigned when he finally noticed the hard prick in the lap he was sitting on. Hob had just pushed him back, not wanting him to throw up what was most likely the first substantial meal he’d had in who knows how long. He had looked so sorrowful, gazing longingly at Hob’s chest, and then he leaned back and gasped, Hob’s cock hard and hot against his hip. 

He had seemed to wilt, any relaxation Hob had coaxed from feeding him vanished, and he spoke like he was reciting a script, “How shall I repay you, master?”

Hob had felt his blood run cold at the title, “There is nothing to repay, sweet one,” he promised, his smile more of a grimace. Dream had stared at him in blatant disbelief, and as much as Hob wanted to keep holding him, he knew his body’s response was not helping the situation. So he had moved Dream off his lap, tucked him under the bed covers to sleep off his meal, and then gone and taken a long bath to take care of the problem.

It is a routine he has kept ever since. Dream no longer asks what Hob wants in return, though he still looks at him expectantly, and Hob smiles and pets him and then excuses himself to the bath to spend as much time as he needs pleasuring himself. And if he spends that time imagining the soft pads of Dream’s hands, or his sandpaper tongue, or the few glimpses he’s gotten of Dream’s enticingly barbed cock, well, no one needs to know.

Glancing back down at the cat in his arms, Hob is drawn now to Dream’s ears. His own are soft, yes, but they are also thick and sturdy. Dream’s are so thin. Even with the blackness of his fur, the sun seems to shine through at the very tips, a soft glowing pink with little veins just barely visible. Almost without thinking, Hob moves the hand on the back of Dream’s head to lightly grip one ear between his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Dream startles, a frightened chirp escaping him as he releases Hob’s teat. 

“Shhh,” Hob soothes, nudging Dream back towards his nipple, “It’s alright, you can have some more.” He has to be careful not to let Dream make himself sick, he had been warned by the palace physician what to look out for, but they were nowhere near that point yet. Dream shyly begins suckling again, eyes glancing up at Hob through his eyelashes for approval. “Good boy,” Hob praises, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut, relaxing minutely.

In his hand, he runs his thumb across Dream’s ear. So soft, so delicate and paper thin. He feels a strange compulsion to put it in his mouth. Not to bite, like he did with his playmates growing up- Dream feels too frail for that sort of roughhousing, and Hob does not ever want to hurt him. 

No, he wants to hold his silky ear in his mouth like a delicacy, wants to lick and suck at it as gently as Dream does to his teat until the gossamer fur is wet and warm from his tongue.

For now, he settles for simply rubbing the skin between his fingers, stroking the velvet softness in a feeble attempt to distract himself from his own lust. Eventually, too soon for his or Dream’s liking but in accordance with the doctor, Hob must gently push Dream away, his chest feeling emptier and yet still too full. All he wants is to feed Dream until he is fully sated. It hurts that, for now, he cannot.

Dream has become more accustomed to the routine, and so his whimper is nearly inaudible when leans back in Hob’s lap. Hob can feel the way his ears go from lax contentment to physically pressed down, tense and flat against his head. Or trying to be, at least, in the case of the ear still in Hob’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob coos, “I know you want more, just have to wait a couple hours, Love.”

“You have been more than generous, master,” Dream replied shakily, and Hob suddenly realizes that he does not want to run away to sequester himself in the baths. 

At the moment, his body is not betraying him, at least not so much that his robes do not hide it. And so he shushes Dream again and turns him in his lap, easy as a doll, until they are both facing the window. He nestles Dream between his thighs, bracketing him between thick, warm fur and tugging him to lean back against the softness of his belly. He feels Dream’s breath hitch as he brings his free hand around to rest softly on the subtle swell of his stomach. 

“Relax,” Hob whispered, one hand on his ear while the other rubbed his stomach soothingly, helping encourage his starved body to digest the meal it’s been given, “Just relax.”

As he strokes Dream’s trembling belly and pets his ear, Hob cannot help but tilt his face into the sun. He thinks perhaps he has taken this warmth and light for granted. How many times has he awoken and scowled at the light streaming across his bed? How often has he walked past these sunbeams, stepped across the warm fibers of his extravagant rug, and not even spared them a glance? Now, feeling his body warm- feeling Dream’s body warm- in the glowing light, he feels a pang of regret that he has not appreciated this simple pleasure before.

Well, he is appreciating it now. He smiles to himself as he feels Dream slowly relax under his ministrations, body melting back against him and sinking into Hob’s abundant, pillowy flesh. Hob thinks that if he could, he would keep Dream here, surrounded by his body, soft and warm, forever. 

Maybe he can’t hold him forever, but he can hold him now. And maybe it is too soon to mouth at Dream’s silky ears and press his tongue to them like a salt lick, but he allows himself to press a fleeting kiss to the one in his hand. 

Dream doesn’t flinch. And that is more than enough for now.

[moongreenlight]

Ok I’m in the middle of doing four thousand things at once right now but I am personally having some thoughts about Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick that is forcing me to pause everything.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

He is so unbelievably obsessed with your pleasure. Obsessed with your sweet cunt and the way it reacts to him and his touch.

Literally cannot get off from head unless you’re 69ing because he needs to know that he’s making you feel good too. The combination of you mewling and gagging around his cock and the way you clench around his fingers when you come is guaranteed to get him to reach his high every time.

He honestly doesn’t even need to bury his cock in you. He can get himself off laying in bed with his head buried between your legs. Grinding against the sheets. Feeling you buck your hips against the tip of his tongue.

OBSESSED with giving you head. Daydreams about it. It’s all he fucking thinks about. And he’s SOOOOOO good at it. Takes time to watch the porn that you like so he can try to replicate some parts of it. Memorizes all the things you like and dislike. Incredibly attentive to all your tells. Is also SO coachable. Like he listens to directions for a living. A little to the left? Faster? Slower? Harder? Softer? Anything you want followed to a T.

He’s a pillow princess enabler. Buys you silk pillowcases and sheets and builds you a little nest in the bed before he settles in for the night. Rotating between licking at your pussy and fucking into you ruthlessly. Wouldn’t dream of asking you to get on top because god knows he tires you out enough as it is and he wouldn’t want to risk you needing to take a break or end things before he was properly done with you. Routine pauses to make sure you drink water. Feeds you sweets and cut up fruit or granola to keep your energy up because he’s so thoughtful.

Pleasure dom for sure. Practically demands that you send him videos of you touching yourself when you’re away from him on holiday or when he’s at work. Begs to see a picture up your skirt of your soaked panties after he’s spent your entire lunch break guiding you over the phone through multiple orgasms in your car. Insisting it will help you focus throughout the rest of your day.

He also definitely takes videos of you with your permission. Buys a tripod and everything. Zooms in close on your cunt so that he doesn’t miss a single detail. Takes hours and hours to lick at your clit in slow, measured strokes. Or he has you prop yourself up doggy style so he can pump a few fingers in you. Watching the way your sweet cunt drools and clenched and twitched around him. And he’ll go at it for HOURS. I mean it. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until you can’t stay up anymore. Can’t keep your legs from shaking. The breeze from the AC kicking on sends you screaming into your pillow because you’re so sensitive without him even touching your clit. At that point he’ll flip you over his knee and keep at it until you’re screaming and crying and physically cannot produce another orgasm. He’ll pout his lip a little even though his fingers have gone pruny from being buried in you so long, but he’ll be so gentile when he rolls you onto the bed and tucks you in. Rubs your back and massages your scalp until you fall asleep. Cooing into your neck about how well you did for him. How good you are. How much he loves making you feel good. Makes him feel good too.

[obriengf]

yeah this got 18+ real quick - smut warning!

imagine MITCH RAPP during a time when he is allowed peace; a life away from correcting the world of its crimes, waking up in the same bed every day with the absence of worry, contentment riddled so deep in his bones that he can draw a deep breath and finally feel tranquillity. he can sit in his designated armchair each morning, drinking his stupid imported coffee from the ugly mug you got him last christmas. he can sit at the dining table, across from you, sharing a meal and discussing your days, every day. he can lead a life with a promised future, and not one where he was unsure whether he'd make it out alive. just imagine it.

now, imagine him feeling so settled and fulfilled in his life, that he kneels down on one knee. he knows that there is that promised future, and those lazy sunday mornings, and more christmases with more ugly mugs. he knows that you'll crawl on his lap as he sat in that armchair, snuggled up watching movies into the darkness of the night. he knows that you will make him meals, and he would make you some too, before you share them across the table for the rest of your lives. mitch on his knee, a ring held so carefully between his fingers as they slightly shook. he had hope filling his beautiful brown eyes - a golden tone to match the colour of the band. he had felt loss so strongly in his past that it provoked him to be an empty shell. until he met you, until he learnt to love you unconditionally. and you love him too, despite his demons.

"it would be the greatest honour to have you by my side for the rest of our lives. i love you so fucking much. marry me."

to which you would reply with a teary, "of course."

imagine that months had passed. and that the love only grew stronger. imagine standing at the end of the alter with him, as he insisted that he held your hands throughout the entire ceremony, even through his vowels, which he had been memorising for months. his eyes unable to leave yours for a mere second as he stood mesmerised by your beauty on this special day. mitch would feel so lucky that he could call you his forever. flash forward to your first dance, and you both have two left feet. it was a mess, so you stuck to rocking side-to-side, giggling like school kids, impressed when he managed to twirl and dip you without fail. you both decided to feed each other your first slice of wedding cake, but you got his nose instead. on purpose. he knew that it was coming, call it assassin instincts. but he could only laugh before smashing his lips against yours, frosting decorating your cheeks in utter joviality.

now imagine a few hours later, and mitch had you pressing hands and knees into the mattress of your hotel room. your stature was wobbly, his fault, of course, after he priorly had his head between your thighs for what felt like forever. and he ate you out so fucking good, too. his blunted nails leaving crescent marks embedded in the flesh of your thighs, your hips, your stomach. the tip of his nose was dragging over your clit with such force as he tried to bury his tongue so deep inside your cunt. relishing in how you'd constrict around the muscle. and the moans that'd draw from your lips was a fucking symphony if he'd ever heard one. his lips sucked and swallowed as you writhed and panted. you were so close that you could reach out to the stars and touch them as they dizzied your view. but he stopped abruptly. teasing you. and mitch couldn't hold back the smirk that had tugged at his sopping glistening lips as you protested.

he was aiming for an orgasm that would take you to the edge and over. mitch was grasping your hips, pulling you back to him when you started to buckle and lose your strength. skin on skin slapping, reverberating off the four walls. your ass was red from his large hands as they fondled and slapped, only to be soothed by gentle rubs from calloused fingers. you were painted on different marks as your body filled with sensation, as mitch admired them proudly as his eyes lazily dragged down from your purple splotchy neck. your head dropped to the side as your cheek grazed the bedsheet, his name slipping past your lips like a prayer, begging for him. you were close, again.

mitch had a soft side, as you learnt quickly after meeting him. he was generous and sweet. incredibly kind-hearted when he wanted to be. which is why he treated you with such fragility as he slowed his thrusts, the plummeting now nothing but an idle wait. as much as it hurt his throbbing cock, he pulled out from you and wrapped his arms under your frame, gentle as he turned you over. with your back now pressed to the bed, mitch kissed over your eyes as they remained closed, still floating in your upcoming orgasm. waiting.

"let me see you, baby. open 'em for me." his voice was soothing but you still whined, lost in euphoria. mitch chuckled, his breath heavy before his lips kissed over your own, "i want to see your face when you cum for the first time as mrs rapp..."

tears brimmed your waterline but you had never smiled so wide as when you saw the love that exuded from this man, before he was lining himself up again. the tip of his cock tapped against your clit as you cried, pushing yourself up to indicate that you needed him. as your walls incased him completely, mitch's body lowered, his chest sweaty as it stuck against yours, one hand tangled in your own as the other braced itself, white-knuckled, beside your head. his hips drove deep into your core. tapping your inner walls, and you continued to cry out his name as he attempted to soothe you with sloppy bruising kisses on your collarbone, and up toward your ear. you were so tight. it felt dangerous, daring, the way you were squeezing and milking this man for everything he had. and yet he was so utterly addicted to you.

the moment before the release was always one that he cherished. the adrenaline rush was one unmatched, how you both reeked with desperation, how sighs and pants and moans grew louder and louder. the way you would beg one another for more, the 'pleases' and 'thank yous' mixed among the cussing and chanting of 'fuck fuck fuck' over and over again until the explosion. he loved these moments. but when you came? the second you arched so high off the bed that he used all his force to hold you down? when he came himself the second you pulled at his hair in absolute pleasure?

that was his crowning glory moment.

that's when mitch rapp knew that he finally found peace.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [9]

Part Nine | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, realizations, reunions and resurrections, chapter follows "Tell it to the Frogs" but dialogue and events are paraphrased.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s Note: I am officially laid off for the winter. I make no promises, but I really want to write more often during my layoff. I'm really happy with this chapter (even though it might feel like a dagger to the heart), but things are really ramping up. Also don't worry, Daryl will reappear in the next one. Now that we've gotten to the show starting, this fic will follow the plot of TWD, but events and dialogue will be paraphrased so as not to simply rewrite episode scripts — hope you guys understand. Let me know what you guys think! Your support and excitement for this fic mean the world to me. Additionally, if I don't post beforehand, happy holidays and merry Christmas (to those that celebrate).

You watch as the sun begins to set from your spot on top of Dale’s RV — mesmerized as the clear blue sky slowly shifts into an array of golden hues. The sight almost makes you forget how much the world has changed — how much everything seems to have changed.  You sigh as you realize how envious you are of your past self. Just a few weeks ago, you were complaining about your boss to Lori, grabbing coffee in between shifts with Shane, and helping Rick with his latest home improvement project. Life was simple and stable. You had a lovely home, a decent job, and a loving boyfriend. Now, well, you’re lucky if there’s enough food at the campfire at the end of the day to feed the entire group.

You tear your eyes away from the sunset and look down at the book in your lap. The very book you attempted to busy yourself with this morning before Shane’s interruption. You haven’t gotten much further, finding yourself distracted by Daryl’s crumpled note that you’ve begun using as a bookmark. You can imagine him scoffing beside you as you reread the simple, messily written words. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tries to decipher what’s troubling you — and he’d read you like a book. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve yearned for his silent, stable presence more than usual today after your conversation with Shane this morning.

The sound of someone climbing the ladder and approaching from behind you pulls you from your thoughts. Your hand instinctively grabs the shotgun beside you as you turn your head toward the sound. Your mind starts anticipating the worst, but you loosen your grip as your eyes meet Dale’s. Dale raises his hands in front of him as he approaches; the gesture is playful, but his features are laced with concern. 

“I come in peace.”

You snort at his words before removing your hand from the shotgun entirely. 

“Sorry, Dale. I was just a thousand miles away.”

Dale hums in response as he takes a seat beside you. The two of you sit in comfortable silence while watching the sunset. You don’t mind Dale’s company. Despite his dislike for Shane Walsh, he’s never treated you differently despite your connection to the deputy. You’ve always appreciated that he sees you as you, not just Shane’s girlfriend — if you can even call yourself that anymore. 

“You’ve been up here for a while.”

“Got nothing else to do, I suppose.”

You shrug nonchalantly before glancing over at Dale. His eyes are still focused on the sunset, but you can tell he’s thinking over his next words. You appreciate how intentional he is with what he says. It reminds you of Daryl in a way. Your hands find their way to the crumpled note again — moving on their own accord.

“I’m just surprised to see you here — thought you’d be in Atlanta. I mean, Glenn wouldn’t shut up about you asking him to show you the ropes when it comes to scavenging.”

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips as you close the book in your lap and toss it to the side. Your eyes do a quick sweep of the camp, ensuring that Shane is not within earshot. 

“Shane decided it was best that I stayed here and helped Lori and Carol with chores.”

Dale lets out a dry laugh at your admission. 

“I didn’t know you needed his permission.”

You meet Dale’s expectant gaze and try to formulate a response, but his sarcastic tone has you floundering. Because as much as you want to assert that you don’t need anyone’s permission, you’ve also become somewhat of a prisoner in your own relationship. You shouldn’t need Shane’s permission to do anything — he certainly doesn’t need yours. And yet, here you are, a shell of your former fiercely independent self. Your shoulders slump at the realization, and your eyes drop to your hands, which are desperately gripping your only lifeline. 

In an act of comfort, Dale moves to cover your hands with his, and you involuntarily flinch away from his touch. Guilt washes over you as Dale pulls his hand away. Logically, you know that Dale would never try to hurt you, but your conversation with Shane this morning has you on edge. You look up at Dale and meet his sympathetic gaze. 

“Dale, I…”

Before you can explain yourself, you’re cut off by a blaring car alarm. Without a second thought, your hands find the shotgun at your side and aim toward the direction the sound is coming from. The once-sleepy camp quickly awakens at the first sign of trouble. You hear countless voices yelling, but one cuts through them all: Shane Walsh.

“Dale, what do you see up there?”

Dale looks to you as you peer into the scope. You can hear the car alarm clear as day, but you’ve yet to see any sign of life through the scope. You shake your head at the older man, keeping your eyes locked on the dirt trail leading up to the camp.

“Talk to me, Dale!”

“We can’t tell yet.”

“What the hell do you mean you can’t tell yet? Just look in the fucking scope, it’s not that hard.”

That sets you off. You don’t know if it’s the edge in Shane’s voice or the condescending tone in which he speaks, but something inside of you snaps at the words.

“I know how to look through a fucking scope, Shane!”

You can hear a low growl rumble through Shane’s chest at your retort, but you keep your gaze steady. You tune out the ensuing chaos: Shane insisting you hand the shotgun over to Dale, Jim attempting to defuse the situation, and Amy incessantly asking if it’s her sister. Dale offers you gentle words of affirmation as you take deep breaths — attempting to steady yourself. And then you see it: a bright red Dodge Challenger with none other than Glenn Rhee at the wheel. You finally pull away from the scope and hand the shotgun over to Dale, who looks at you in astonishment.

“It’s just Glenn.”

Dale takes the shotgun and peers through the scope. He searches for a moment before speaking.

“Well, I’ll be.”

And then the two of you erupt into a fit of laughter — after all, this whole situation is nothing but absurd. Dale pulls himself together just long enough to alert the group of your findings. There’s a collective sigh of relief, and everyone seems to relax until Glenn peels into camp. Glenn climbs out of the sports car and smiles brightly up at you.

“You like it?”

Another laugh escapes your lips as Glenn points at the blaring vehicle beside him. You nod at his words before responding. 

“Love it. You rob a bank along the way?”

Dale interrupts the conversation.

“Can you turn it off, son?”

Glenn’s brow furrows at his question, glancing between the car and the two of you.

“I don’t know.”

Quickly, Shane steps in and starts yelling at Glenn to pop the hood. You and Dale decide to finally descend from the top of the RV and join the rest of the group. When you enter the chaos, the car alarm is finally off, and several other vehicles begin pulling into camp. You smile as you watch reunions unfold before your eyes. Amy pulls her sister into a tight hug before she even has a chance to exit the vehicle fully. Morales’ children race to see who can get to him faster. Dale claps Glenn on the back as the young man excitedly shows off the vehicle they managed to jumpstart.

Deciding to give them all some privacy, you turn to walk back to your tent. Your smile quickly fades as you spot Carl’s saddened expression. His misty eyes scan the crowd, looking for someone who will never return. Your heart breaks as you watch Lori kneel beside him and pull the small boy into a comforting hug. Still, Carl’s gaze doesn’t falter. You lower your head as tears well up in your eyes. You understand.

Shane had told you about what happened at the hospital the first night at camp. You remember sitting beside him in your small tent, your heart breaking as you watch one of the strongest men you’ve ever met crumple due to the loss of his best friend. Setting aside the grief sitting heavy inside of your chest, you spent that whole night comforting Shane until he finally fell asleep. It was only then that you buried silent sobs into your pillow and prayed for the impossible — for your found family to be whole again. 

It isn’t until Morales speaks to the group that you finally look up. Your brow furrows as he explains that a new guy helped them out of the city, so they decided to bring him back with them. It’s been a long time since anyone new joined the quarry camp — Daryl and Merle were technically the newest members, but you’ve all been together for weeks now.

“Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello.”

Shane plants his hands on his hips looking toward the SUV expectantly as Morales explains that he’s also a police officer. Finally, you see the new guy, and you can’t believe your eyes. Standing before you is Rick Grimes dressed in his signature sheriff’s uniform and cowboy hat. Rick’s eyes meet Shane’s first, and the two stand in silent astonishment until they hear Carl’s small voice.

“Dad?”

Rick’s eyes well up as he finally spots his boy at the back of the crowd.

“Oh, my God.”

Rick hesitates for a second, almost as if he can’t believe this isn’t real. But Carl sprints toward him, with Lori close behind. Tears stream down your face as Carl crashes into his father’s embrace. You look beside you, expecting to see Shane, but you meet Dale’s reassuring eyes instead. Your brow furrows in confusion, and you take a moment to find Shane in the commotion. Surely, he’s as choked up as you — hell, his best friend just came back from the dead. 

But when you spot him leaning against the red sports car at the back of the crowd, watching his best friend tearfully reunite with his wife and son, he looks less like a man who just got his brother back and more like someone who just lost everything. 

You want to be elated at the scene unraveling before. After all, you’ve been dreaming of this moment every night since the world fell apart. But something feels wrong as you watch as Shane lock eyes with Lori over Rick’s shoulder. Lori looks at him apologetically, and Shane’s expression shifts into a mix of anger and disappointment. Confusion washes over your features as you watch the exchange until…

Oh. Oh.

Suddenly, everything makes sense. Every time you couldn’t find Shane in camp only for him to miraculously appear with Lori hours later. Every time you attempted to spend time with him only to be dismissed for something more important. Every time you waited up for him to return to your shared tent, only to fall asleep in a cold, empty cot. 

Taglist: 

Suddenly, everything makes sense — and you feel nothing but a stark hollowness settle into your bones. Because although your found family may be whole again, you’ve never felt more alone.

@minervadashwood

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@dreamtofus

@youcantstandit

@ajlovesdilfs

@prettywhenibleed

@luvsvnlqt-things

@strnqer

@marina-isabella

@lissanovak

@elissanatok

@luv-4-aria

@moejoeflow-blog

@ceoofdisappointment

@jewellthebooknerd

@callsignwidow

@genderless-ghosty-boi

@all-will-be-well-love

@tabzthemightyyyy

@mychemicalimagines

@nosebleeds-247

@catradora333

@punicorn999

@tybsbnbn

@i-wear-wet-socks313

@sunny92sworld

@echothy

@ta3baee

@rottngzombi

@rhey-007

@azanoni

@ritosparty

@vaniniweenie

@nameless-ken

@ibuch7

@theunfortunateshadow

@j0joworld

@marauder-exe-old

@hello-emma

@ziziriaa-blog

@livingdeadblondequeen

@krissophia

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

@kellie-ana-blog

@my-name-is-heartache

@the-valars-sapphire

[nectardaddy]

songs in the gravel . . . a. miya + f!reader

⋆｡ bitter winds | wc: 769

warnings . . . angst, failed past relationship, talk of aging and the feelings associated with it, feelings of being left out/left behind, regret, loneliness 

The man sighed as he leaned against the kitchen counter, the marble edge leaving a small indentation on his arm from just how long he’d been standing there. He didn’t mean to get carried away with doom scrolling through social media, his other hand on his cheek. Didn’t mean to roll his eyes as another one of his brother’s wedding photos passed his feed, and surely didn’t mean to linger on a photo that made his heart ache. A simple photo, really, a few friends gathered in a bar and nothing more. But it was her. It was always her. He felt his stomach drop as soon as the picture popped up minutes earlier, and felt a pang that rattled his insides all the way to the bone. 

He couldn’t help but stare, to hover over the picture for far too long. He hadn’t spoken to her in years, frankly forgot about her until the moment hit him with force and nearly brought him to his knees. She was a bit older, as was he, and despite the wide grin she held in the image he could pick out the small lines near her lips that weren’t there before. Maybe she stayed in the sun while in his absence, maybe it was stress, or the daunting fact that both were getting older. He often tried to repress the thought of aging, but the few, tiny gray hairs that peaked through faux blonde made it hard to forget. It was even harder knowing that everyone around him seemed to progress while he did not. 

The off season brought him home, but home was empty. No longer living with his parents, but a rather nice apartment that he used to share with his brother. But his brother had gotten married a few months ago, and left the apartment cold and empty. No more laughter, no more teasing, and no more seeing Osamu’s stupid face in the morning. At first, he was overjoyed with the concept of living alone. But then the loneliness crept in. Settled in shallow veins late at night when he tried to go to sleep, and remained throughout the day as every corner he turned held no one. 

He felt like he was getting left behind. Hometown friends coming and going, moved entirely, or had other things to do than drink in a barren apartment. Kita had gotten married, started a family, and now lived on a farm. Suna would rather stay in Shizuoka than the “hick ass city” (as he put it) of Hyōgo, so he was rarely ever in town anymore. Aran, while home more often, was often hard to reach. And his teammates, understandably, made plans to see their own families during the off season - leaving him, undeniably alone. 

Excruciatingly alone. 

The isolation was gentle at first, slowly creeping upon him like a pot starting to boil. But as he still looked at the picture in front of him, the bubbles began to roll until finally spilling over. She was happy, she was laughing, she had friends - she didn’t remember him anymore. The nauseating feeling of being left out hit him in his chest and he felt the sudden urge to heave, to spill his guts right then and there. 

Osamu always called the woman “the one who got away” in regards to Atsumu. In reality, the man let it happen. Too preoccupied in his career, and with little to no balance within his life, he let the relationship fall through his fingers like sand. It wasn’t until nearly a year after, he realized the hollow ache in his chest without her in his life. An emptiness that ate away at him, nipping and biting until there was nothing left - a shell of the man he once was. But as years passed, he started to repress the wretched feelings. Bottled them up and crammed them down within the chasms of his mind, never to be felt again. 

Until now. 

The man put his phone face down on the counter roughly; the sharp snap of the case hitting cold marble made his ears ring in contrast to the quiet apartment. He put his hands to his face and covered his eyes with a loud sigh, shaky as it took up a sense of desperation. The sinking feeling of regret trickled into his mind as he stood there, elbows still against the cool marble and calloused hands over his face, until it completely devoured him. Swallowed him whole, with not a single piece left, and he once again felt alone. 

Completely, and utterly, alone.

“Fuck.”

taglist (open, send an ask)

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks 

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui 

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches

[daisies-daydreams]

…I know I just submitted one..BUT Miguel O’Hara and his busy busy self 😇🙏 so he’s at his desk being all grumpy and stuff totally focused and we are at home all bored and sad cause Miguel hasn’t came home so we get frisky and put on his white button up and send some scandalous pictures. We get left on DELIVERED. NOT EVEN SEEN. So we get a bit angry and sad so we get dressed and drag our asses to his office (with the bracelet we suddenly obtained..that he knows nothing about..) BUT WE COME BEARING GIFTS. Comida. And love. And lust. We go to him and nuzzle him and he’s still being a grumpy shit so we sit on his lap and grip his cheeks. We force feed the shit outta him bc he’s our baby and WE GOTTA FEED HIM. HES OUR BIG BOY. So we feed him and he’s grateful but bc he’s a tease he says how we shouldn’t disrupt him. We scratch his head soothingly and tell him we love him. Then like we stay like that for a while and he grabs his phone. He sees the raunchy photos and smut ensues. He claims that we are sluts and that we should’ve waited for him. degradation and praise. Also Miguel saying how we really ruined his work just for a quick fuck and how pathetic that is. And just for comedic relief..Lyla sees the aftermath and Miguel gets flustered.

Distraction (Miguel O’Hara x F!Plus-Sized!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut w/ Angst Throughout (18+) Warnings: Sexting, Swearing, Praise/Degradation Kink (Use of 'Slut', 'Cocksleeve', 'Fuck Toy'), Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected P in V Sex (you know the drill), Full Nelson, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Miguel Being a Meanie Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Hello hello! I'm so glad to get another Miguel O'Hara request (I personally loved working on this spicy fic 🥴). I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Tonight was supposed to be different.

Miguel was supposed to walk through the door, exhausted yet relieved to finally be home. The two of you were supposed to sit down and have some home-cooked food, discussing the ins and outs of your respective days. You were supposed to do the dishes together, maybe dance a little in the kitchen, before making your way to the bedroom. And to top it off, the two of you were supposed to make sweet, tender love for hours before falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

...That’s how it was supposed to go. 

Instead, you reluctantly ate dinner by yourself after waiting for him for over an hour. Your body felt unbearably heavy as you put the rest of the food away and tucked the dishes into the dishwasher. You sighed when you stepped into the bedroom and flopped down onto your cold bed. Your eyes stung as you gripped the comforter, your jaw hurting from how tightly you clenched it. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Miguel promised you he’d be here tonight on time. He even texted you earlier that he had “one more thing” before he left work. It's felt like forever since the two of you had a nice night to yourselves. You sniffed as tears poured down your puffy cheeks and soaked the blanket. The room was filled with your quiet, muffled cries for a while before your phone buzzed. You pulled your head up and snatched your phone, a small glimmer of hope shining through before you looked at your screen. You scowled as you glanced at the notification for your email. 

“Why am I not surprised?” you muttered bitterly as you tossed your phone across the bed. You sighed as you fell back down on your back, eyes set on your shared closet. You huffed as you skimmed over the organized rows of Miguel’s shirts and jackets. Your scowl melted a little at the memory of you strutting around your apartment wearing nothing but one of his massive t-shirts. 

You laughed softly as you remembered his red, flustered face when you bent down to pick up your phone after you “accidentally” dropped it. Needless to say, the two of you almost had to buy a new sofa after he...

Wait a second. 

You slowly sat up again as an idea crossed your mind. You smiled deviously and bit your lip. You grabbed your phone and slipped your feet onto the cold, hardwood floor. Maybe Miguel needed a little more…convincing for him to finally come home. You hummed and swayed your hips as you flicked on the light switch to the closet. Your heart skipped a beat as filed through several of his shirts. Your eyes lit up when you grabbed a crisp, white button-up.

“Just you wait, Miguel O’Hara,” you chuckled as you pulled it from the hanger. You quickly padded over to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room and stripped yourself of your t-shirt and sweats, kicking them to the side along with your panties and bra. You bit your lip as you slipped your arms through the sleeves of Miguel’s button-up. You tugged at the bottom of the shirt and swayed side to side, wondering what your first pose should be. 

A smirk eventually crossed your face as you opened your phone. You turned around and showed off your curvaceous bum. You glanced over your shoulder with a shy, half-lidded gaze as you arched your spine. You nearly squealed excitedly after taking the picture when you thought of another pose. 

You turned around to face the mirror again, this time pushing the sides of the button-up away to reveal your breasts. Your nipples hardened against the cool air as you puffed out your chest. You squeezed your thighs together before looking up, your eyes just barely peeking past the top of your phone as you snapped the picture. 

You giggled as you looked at the photos before one last pose came to mind. You shifted your thighs together while turning towards the bed. You grunted as you adjusted yourself on the edge of the mattress, gazing at your naked reflection in the mirror. The sheets rustled as you spread your legs apart and dug your heels against the edge of the bed. You bit your lip as you spread your puffy labia apart, revealing your tight, juicy hole. You exhaled quietly as you took the last picture, a ripple of pleasure and excitement coursing down your spine. 

You nearly fell as you scrambled to the bathroom to quickly wash your hands. Your cheeks were growing warmer by the second as you grabbed your phone and quickly typed a message: 

I feel so alone, bebé. Won’t you come home and give me some company? 🥺😘

You sighed and fell back onto the mattress after you hit “send”. Thoughts of him seeing the photos crossed your mind. You wiggled a bit when you imagined him stroking his thick cock as he stared at your exposed, slick cunt. Your excitement dulled with every minute that passed without his reply.

You nearly fell asleep before a sudden crack of thunder shook the apartment building. You jumped up and looked around wildly, hands bracing against your comforter. You sighed as heavy raindrops pounded against the windows, the neon lights of the city blurred behind your holographic curtains. You yawned and rubbed your eyes as you reached for your phone. You instantly gritted your teeth when you opened your messages. 

Delivered 7:04 PM 

It was almost 8:30 PM. You shucked off his shirt with a short huff before stomping back over to the closet. You rapidly tossed aside several of your clothes before your eyes landed on a short, black cocktail dress. The corners of your mouth turned up as you bit your lip. 

If only Miguel knew what you had in store for him…

•••

Your black heels clacked against the polished floors of the Spider Society’s HQ as you swayed your hips side to side. A few Spider-People brushed past you, some turning their heads as you continued your determined stroll towards Miguel's lair. You hummed to yourself as you held a bag in the crook of your elbow, the smell of empanadas lingering everywhere you walked. You nearly jumped back when a small, yellow hologram of a young woman jumped in front of you.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. He’s in a mood tonight,” Lyla explained while pointing down the dark hall with her thumb. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“When is he not in a mood?" you replied. She pursed her lips. "Besides-I just wanted to bring him some food,” you said as you pulled out the plastic container full of empanadas. Lyla leaned forward stroked her chin contemplatively.

“Well…he hasn’t eaten in a while,” she reasoned aloud. You raised a brow at the AI. “Alright! Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Lyla said while holding her hands up. You smiled as she dissipated, turning your attention back to the long, dark hallway in front of you. Your heart skipped as beat as you stepped forward, the low humming of the electronics around you sending a shiver down your spine. It took a few minutes to trek down the hall, but eventually you walked through the wide opening to his lair.

You gasped when you gazed at the wide expanse of room, several different machines whirring and shifting around in unison. You slowly craned your neck up, sighing and shaking your head as you watched Miguel mechanically scroll through various holographic monitors.

“How did you get in here?” he huffed as he flicked two of his fingers across the largest screen and enlarged the video. You frowned as you rested your free hand on your hip.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you clicked your tongue. Your lover paused before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You took the spare I had in my nightstand, didn’t you?” Miguel droned.

“Maybe,” you replied with a straight face. The large man grumbled.

“I don’t have time for your games. What do you want?” he grunted while waving his hand. You rolled your eyes at his abrasive tone.

“I just wanted to give my cariño some homemade empanadas,” you sang as you held up the bag. Miguel paused and turned his head.

“Empanadas?” he asked with a curious tone.

“Mhm,” you said as you took a step closer. The large man floating on the platform above you clenched and unclenched his fists as he turned around. You frowned when you saw his face: the bags under his eyes were dark and vibrant, his cheek bones protruding out more than usual.

“Fine,” he muttered as he slapped a button. You smiled triumphantly as the platform began to lower…centimeter by centimeter.

“Can you make it go any-“

“No. It only has one mode,” he replied bluntly. You raised a brow.

“You have the ability to create a trans-dimensional watch…and yet you made a platform with just one mode?” you piqued. Miguel narrowed his dark, crimson eyes.

“Do you want me to come down or not?” he asked. You sighed and tapped your foot as you waited. The platform eventually eased its way down before resting on the floor with a tired sigh. You sashayed over to him, your ass nearly spilling out of your tight dress as you stepped onto the platform. You frowned as Miguel went back to shifting through the various monitors, his bloodshot eyes locked on the giant screens in front of him.

“You can just leave the food on the desk. I'll be home after finishing this,” he grunted. You shook your head as you gently slid your hand over his wrist. Miguel blinked before drawing his gaze to your bright, half-lidded eyes.

“I have a better idea,” you murmured as you leaned closer. He tensed as you suddenly climbed onto his lap, spreading your thick thighs over his while smoothing your hand over his wide chest.

“(Y/N),” he said in a warning tone, his cheeks filling with a deep, rosy pink.

“Miguel,” you mimicked before tossing the bag to the floor. You quickly pulled the lid off the container, the savory aroma of the turnovers wafting through the air. You smirked as Miguel’s pupils slightly enlarged as steam rose up from the delicious, fried food. You cooed when you heard his stomach gurgle.

“You poor thing. You must be so hungry after working for so long,” you frowned. Miguel swallowed thickly as he tightened his lips. “C’mon hermoso-déjame alimentarte,” you whispered as you pinched his cheek [handsome; let me feed you]. He frowned as you pulled out one of the empanadas and traced it against his pouty lips.

“I know you want it,” you teased as you fully sank down onto his lap, grinding your ass against the top of his thighs. Miguel’s eye twitched as you continued to draw the corner of the empanada along his lips.

“(Y/N),” he grunted. You frowned and rubbed your other hand up and down his chest.

“Please Migs? I made them just for you,” you pouted and fluttered your lashes. Your lover sighed.

“Hijo de...alright. Fine,” he said with annoyed defeat. You smiled and lightly pinched his cheek again, making his frown deepen even more.

“Open wide,” you sang. Miguel scoffed.

“Ay coño. I’m not a baby, (Y/N),” he scowled. His eyes widened as you slowly pushed a bit of the golden, crispy empanada into his mouth. He moaned a little as you let the savory food linger on his tastebuds.

"There you go," you cooed. You wiped some crumbs from his mouth as he chewed, his cheeks flushing with pink at your simple touch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he finally swallowed.

“So?” you asked. Miguel poked his tongue against his cheek.

“Good,” he replied bluntly.

“Just good?” you hummed as you brought the empanada back to his mouth. Miguel grunted he took another bite.

“What do you want me to say? Everything you make is excellent,” he said with a small smile. Your smile softened as you blushed.

“Gracias, mi amor,” you breathed as you wiped away some more crumbs [Thank you, my love]. You continued to feed him, his muscles relaxing with every bite he took. You heard his stomach growl again just as he finished swallowing his last bite.

“You want some more?” you asked as you already grabbed another empanada.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. You smiled and pressed the second empanada to his mouth. Miguel parted his lips as you fed him, your other hand stroking up and down his chest all the while. He sighed when you threaded your fingers through his dark, messy hair and lightly scratched his scalp.

His hands slowly came down to rest on your waist as he hummed in satisfaction with his final bite. You smiled and rested your head in the crook of his neck, relishing in the warmth of his chiseled body.

"Thank you for the meal, hermosa," he muttered [beautiful]. You nodded and traced your fingers a through his thick hair. “You know, I should’ve come home when I said I would,” Miguel sighed heavily. You tilted your head up and met his solemn gaze. “Maybe...maybe I've been working a bit too much,” he mumbled. His eyes softened as you cupped his cheek.

“I'm worried about you, Miguel,” you confessed.

“Cariño, I’ll be fine,” he assured you [Honey]. He frowned as tears welled in your eyes. “Hey…” Miguel said as he brushed his thumb across your cheek.

“Y-You haven’t taken care of yourself for the past few months. You never really come back to the apartment, and when you do you’re always so exhausted,” your voice shook. Miguel watched you silently as he kept his hand on your hips. “I love you, Miguel, and it breaks my heart to see you like this,” you sniffed as you gripped his suit. You stiffened when he suddenly pulled your chest flush against his as he buried his face into your neck.

“I’m sorry, cariño. I had no idea you felt this way,” Miguel said while wrapping his sturdy arms around your smaller frame. You nodded and squeezed him tighter. “But you understand why I have to be away so much, right?” he asked softly. Your bottom lip quivered as your heart sank.

“I-I do,” you said in a broken whisper. You took a deep breath as you pulled back, making sure to lock eyes with your lover. “Miguel…please promise me that you’ll at least try to take better care of yourself. For me…please…” you breathed as your puffy eyes glossed over. Miguel frowned as he wiped a loose tear trickling down your cheek.

“I’ll try,” he said with a gentle smile. You sniffed and nodded. He kissed the crown of your head as he rubbed your lower back.

“Gracias, bebé,” you murmured, your lips brushing over his collarbone. The two of you continued to hold each other for what felt like hours, your warm bodies pressed against each other in a quiet bliss. Your eyes snapped open when you eventually felt something hard brush against your crotch. A small squeak left you as Miguel squeezed your love handles.

“You know…you have been pulling me away from my work for quite some time,” he murmured playfully before squeezing your waist again, his lips dancing over your ear. You bit your lip and gripped his broad shoulders as you felt his cock twitch beneath you. “You've been quite the distraction, conejita,” he clicked his tongue as he slid his hand down your upper thigh. You gave a cheeky smile before wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

“I can think of a few more ways to distract you,” you whispered as you arched your back. A low rumble came from his chest as he inhaled sharply, his crimson eyes lit with a burning desire.

"That's very tempting, but-" he was cut off when his phone started to vibrate. Your eyes widened as he reached over. Miguel sighed. "Sorry-my phone's been on Do Not Disturb for a while. I just need to check it for a second,” your lover said.

“O-Oh” you squeaked. Miguel smirked as he picked up his phone.

“Why are being so shy all of the sudden, hm?” he mused while opening his messages. You ducked your head into his massive shoulder just as his breath hitched.

“¿Qué es esto?" he piqued as he squeezed your leg [What is this?]. Your face swelled with heat as you remained stiff in his hold. You squeaked as he cupped your ass and tenderly squeezed one of your cheeks. "These are some very naughty pictures, princessa,” Miguel murmured as he kneaded your asscheek in his rough, calloused hand [princess]. “‘I feel so alone, bebé. Won’t you come home and give me some company?’” he read with a raised brow. You blushed as you felt his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“¿Oh conejita...qué voy a hacer contigo?” he sighed as he bunched up the skirt of your dress [Oh bunny...what am I going to do with you?]. You shivered as the cool air fell over your exposed skin, your thong barely covering your dripping, puffy folds. Your legs shook as he dipped his fingers past the soaked fabric of your panties and teasingly rubbed at your labia.

“Puta. You should've waited for me,” he chastised [Slut]. You mewled as he scissored your folds apart with his thick fingers. You swallowed while gently bucking against his hand.

"L-Lo siento, Papi," you whined while humping his hand like a dog in heat [I'm sorry, Daddy]. Miguel rumbled as he slowly pushed two of his massive digits past the rim of your entrance.

"’Sorry’ won't do you any good now, muñeca," he husked into your ear [doll]. You choked as he spread your tight hole, shallowing pumping the pads of his fingers in and out with short, languid strokes. He licked lips. "That's what you are, right? Why else would you come in here wearing your shiny heels and tight, slutty dress?" Miguel whispered before pushing his fingers all the down to his knuckles. You gasped and clawed at his suit as he filled you to the brim.

"Mi lindo juguete para follar," Miguel grunted [My cute fuck toy].

“Papi," you whined as he curled his digits against your spongey g-spot, a spark of pleasure bursting through your dripping sex. Your walls tightened around his thick fingers as he pressed his soft lips to your temple. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of your gummy walls. You panted and moaned as you rubbed your raw clit against the bottom of his hand, smearing your slick all over his palm. You gasped when you felt his other hand snatch the zipper of your dress.

"Did you really want to come take care of me, or were you just this desperate for my cock?" Miguel groaned against your neck as he peeled the zipper down.

"I-I wanted to take care of you-promise!" you keened. You moaned and rocked your hips in time with the pumping of his digits as the top of your dress fell down, revealing your skimpy bra. His eyes lit up when he saw your breasts jiggle with each shaky breath you took.

Miguel smirked before pressing a soft peck to the top of your cleavage. You moaned as he messily kissed down the space between your two tits, his fingers rubbing your walls even faster. He met your gaze just as your warm pussy began to flutter around his digits. You whined when he pulled his fingers out, leaving your hole a stretched out, drooling mess.

“Turn around, bebé,” he rasped before spanking your ass. Your legs trembled as you slowly turned around and steadied yourself on his lap, your dress shifting down your plush rolls. He kept your legs spread wide for him before he steadied his hands on your hips.

You gasped when you saw a quick flash of light before his massive length sprang free from his suit. Your core fluttered when his burning shaft slapped against your pussy, his flush tip smearing pre-cum over your sensitive clit. Your mind reeled as he slowly rocked your hips forward, glazing the top of his meaty cock with your juices. Miguel shoved his face against your neck and inhaled deeply and spread your pussy lips apart with his thick, veiny cock. You whined and curled your toes.

“Please Papi,” you cried as your pussy slobbered all over his dick. His deep chuckling made your walls clench.

“‘Please’ what, (Y/N)?” Miguel purred. You swallowed and gritted your teeth as his member throbbed against your sex.

“Please…I-I need your cock inside me, por fa,” you gulped [please]. You hissed when he paused, his meaty length resting against your needy cunt.

“Is that all?” he teased. You flared your nostrils.

“Please fuck me hard with your thick cock, Miguel!” you begged and desperately ground your aching pussy against his length. You gasped when he wrapped his burly arms beneath your knees and pushed your legs up. “M-Miguel!” you squealed as your giant lover made your back become flush against his front.

“Arms behind my neck, mi amor,” he instructed. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you did as you were told, making sure to lock your fingers together. Your eyes widened as he stood up, the head of his cock teasing your tight entrance as he steadied his feet.

“If you’re going to come in here dressing and acting like a slut…” all breath was punched out of your lungs as he sank you down on his girthy member in one swift motion. Your body had little time to adjust before he raised you up again. “…then I might as well fuck you like one,” Miguel finished as he slammed you back down. You couldn’t hold back your moans as began to snap his hips up at a brutal pace. Your body bounced and jiggled as he spread your tight hole wide open with quick, sloppy thrusts.

“M-Miguel, fuck,” you moaned as you felt his dick massage every inch of your tight, gummy walls. You dug your nails into the back of his thick neck as he panted wildly, his hot breath fanning over your pulse.

“Mierda-you wrap around my dick so perfectly,” he moaned while squeezing the back of your knees. [Shit]. You whimpered in reply, your mind becoming too drunk on the pleasure that throbbed from your stretched cunt to give a proper response. You squealed as Miguel wrapped his lips over your neck and sucked over your pulse. You mewled as your hard nipples rubbed against the inside of your bra with every thrust.

“Mmm, love how you drench my cock,” he groaned against your fresh, wet hickey. You knitted your brows as your puffy clit throbbed and walls clenched. He grunted as your pussy gripped his veiny length.

“Yes, that’s it-make sure you keep hugging me just like that,” Miguel rasped. Hot tears of bliss seeped from your eyes as he sank you down effortlessly. “My sweet little cocksleeve-all for me to use and fuck and fill with my cum,” he moaned as he wildly thrusted into you.

“Fuck,” you sobbed as you felt the muscles in the pit of your belly start to tighten. Miguel grunted as your pussy gripped his girth.

“You’re going to cum already?” he laughed. Your face burned as you bit your lip. “We’ve only been going for a few minutes-surely you can last a little longer,” Miguel hummed. Your chest burned at the fact that he had so much control while you were quickly becoming a drooling, fuck-out mess in his arms. You panted and squeezed your eyes shut as you desperately tried to stave off your orgasm.

“I-I can’t help it! Feels too good, Papi!” you whined. Your eyes grew wide when you felt something cold press against your clit. You gasped when you saw a long, hard-light appendage start to rub tight circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Miguel smirked against your neck as he continued to use you as his personal flesh-light.

“Never thought I’d use my suit upgrade for this,” he confessed with an amused grin. You rolled your head back against his chest as it continued to massage your clit while his cock mercilessly dragged along your gummy walls. You squeaked when he spread your legs further apart, your muscles burning in a painfully delicious way.

“Tell me princessa: who does this pretty pussy belong to?” Miguel snarled. You sobbed and thrashed your head around as you found yourself rushing towards the edge of your release.

“Y-You!” you screamed. Your lover clicked his tongue as he slowed down his movements, drawing a high-pitched whine from you.

“Come now: you know better,” he rumbled. You blinked away hot tears as your chest quickly rose and fell.

“P-Papi owns this pussy!” you gasped. Your jaw went slack as he pounded into you again, your inhibitions thrown out the window as you screamed his name.

“Good girl-good fucking girl,” Miguel panted as he raked his teeth over your neck. Your entire body stiffened as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“P-Papi!” you cried out as you arched your back. Stars flooded your vision as your body trembled with pure, unforgiving bliss. Your walls contracted around Miguel’s cock as he kept pumping into your slick, tight pussy.

“Mierda,” he sucked in a sharp breath as you gripped his neck for dear life while your orgasm tore you apart. You babbled as a ring of cream gushed from between your two sexes and seeped down his shaft.

“Miguel,” you murmured as a string of drool fell past the corner of your lips, your high leaving only static humming through your brain. You moaned softly as your pussy convulsed for the last time, sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your nervous system. Miguel panted as he kept you flush against his large, chiseled body.

“Estoy aquí, bebé,” he breathed before pecking along your neck [I’m here, baby]. Your mind reeled at the sound of drenched “plaps” each time he brought his hips up. “You’ve made quite the mess on my cock, conejita,” he teased. You blushed and lowered your head. Miguel clicked his tongue.

“Ah, ah-I want you to keep your head up for me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he demanded. You shivered as his cock pistoned into your oversensitive sex, each stroke making your walls flutter and thighs clench. You gulped as you tilted your head up, the appendage still working on massaging and gripping your puffy clit with rapid strokes. Miguel sighed.

“You know, you really ruined my work flow-coming in here for a quick fuck,” he huffed. You whined at his words. “I can't think of anything more pathetic,” Miguel scoffed with a wide smirk. The tips of your ears burned as your pussy fluttered around his shaft, arousal coursing through your veins. Miguel sighed. “However...I also can’t help but want nothing more than for you to cum on my cock again before I fill you up,” he grunted. You arched your back as the appendage was nearly vibrating as it circled your clit.

“Fuck, Papi!” you mewled loudly as you felt the muscles in your lower tummy start to tighten all over again. Miguel grunted as he felt your cunt start to squeeze him in a vice grip.

"Say my name when you cum," he growled. You nearly choked on your own spit as your jaw went slack, the band deep inside you quickly snapping in two.

"Miguel!" you screamed as your walls convulsed around his massive girth, your vision clouded with white. Miguel growled as your cunt sucked him all the way against your bruised cervix, your walls eagerly gripping to his twitching length.

"Sí Sí Sí," he rasped as his thrusts began to stutter. You grew limp in Miguel's grasp as he heaved.

"Shit, I'm close. F-Fuck, (Y/N)!” he roared as he sank you down on his cock for the last time. Your eyes rolled back as he filled you, soaking the inside of your pretty cunt with his thick, milky white cum. Both of you moaned each other’s names as his cock throbbed and swelled inside your tight cunt. You gasped as hot ropes of his spend flooded your swollen walls.

“T-Take it. Take all of me,” Miguel panted as he rolled his hips, your pussy squelching as he continued to stuff you. Your greedy cunt milked him dry as his balls twitched beneath your puffy lower lips. Both of you panted as you caught your breaths, bodies swimming in the afterglow of your highs.

“You took me so well, cariño,” he purred before pecking the crown of your head. You gasped as he rolled his hips forward. "However, I'm afraid our night isn't over yet," Miguel husked. A sudden flicker of light grabbed your attention as Lyla appeared. The AI crossed her arms as she wore a cat-like grin.

“Damn, Miguel. You really put that porno you watched earlier to good use!” she mused while lowering her sunglasses. Your jaw immediately dropped as Miguel’s eyes widened. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his thick, dark brows as she faded away with a mischievous cackle.

“LYLA!” he bellowed.

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

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