#but like no one talks about the need for silk/ satin things to keep the curls intact

[crunchycrystals]

im not a fic writer but im kind of tempted to write something if only for the sole purpose of representing the ways people have to take care of curly hair bc every pjo fic i read doesnt talk about it

[nerdieforpedro]

A Poor Plan to Confess

Dieter Bravo x plus size female reader (Moon Pie)

This is fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.1k

Warnings: Dieter being a bit rude, porn use, mention of masturbation, teasing, improper toy use?, very bad communication, some mentions of sexual activities and acts, Nerdie is unsure of what she wrote

Summary: Dieter is doing his best to stay sober. You have a large part in his plans. They aren’t well thought out.

Notes: Written for the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot Server Challenge. @wannab-urs brought me back to Dieter, originally I didn’t have any ideas for this and then boom! 🤯 I had a few. Thanks to @missladym1981 for beta reading for me. 😘

Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist

A joke between old friends. Dieter was doing well. Three years sober, well from the harder drugs. He still had the occasional joint and alcohol. You weren’t really into the weed, thought it stunk to high heaven. Dieter always managed to find some really fragrant strains though, smelled like incense. Type you would burn laying on a chase couch in a fancy silk robe. Maybe smoke one of those long cigarettes except it had bubbles coming out of it. Dieter bought you one and told you to make bubbles come out of it over FaceTime.

The two of you have many silly jokes over the years. Some about video games, some about animals, some about his job and yours. He never wanted to hear about relationships and didn’t mention any of his to you. You asked why one day because friends normally at least mention if they’re dating someone or not and Dieter flat out told you, “I don’t need to have the image of you fucking somebody in my head.” Had you not been as secure as you were, you’d take offense, but you left it alone, keeping it in the back of your mind.

One thing Bravo hadn’t joked about thankfully was his sobriety, finally taking it seriously. He told you that if he ever called you mentioning coke or pills to lock him up and prevent him from calling anyone for the drugs. This was another joke. He even bought you handcuffs, zip ties and some bondage tape. His assistant dropped it off with a quizzical look on their face. You smiled and put them in your office. You knew why they had that look, you two as just friends and Dieter’s never given you anything like that before. Like an idiot, you googled how to use the zip ties and tape, ending up on Pornhub and unaware that someone was banging on your door.

When the next pop-up blocked your screen again, that was when you heard, “Hey! You alive in there?! Open the hell up! What kind of friend are you?” Running downstairs, you open up the door recognizing the voice, Dieter’s at your door. It’s 11:30 at night. He stares at you and you wonder why. Ah…I’m in my nightgown. My pink satin one to match the handcuff fuzz. I don’t think I washed my hands, and they smell like…fuck.

You now know why.

“Moon Pie, you got someone up in here? Didn’t know you had someone. I need your help your help though, just a room.” He pleads at your doorstep, before you can answer, whatever ad has finished and there’s loud moaning from the video you had been watching. His eyes cut upward to where the noise is coming from. “Or maybe not. I didn’t think you watched porn.”

Putting your hands on your hips, “Anyone can watch porn Dieter. Am I not allowed according to some weird ass rule you have? I have sex sometimes too!” His eyes went wide as you stepped aside letting him in and he raised his hands to signal defeat, though he did laugh when you said the word sex.

“You can’t even say fuck Moon Pie. Listen, let’s not talk about that. I need you to keep me here. I’m feeling like I may need to make a bad call. I did give my assistant my phone, but I don’t want to chance it. You still got that box?” He pays your shoulder, plopping down on the couch.

“Go find your silly box yourself Dieter. I’m going back upstairs.” Waving your hands, you start upstairs, making it up three stairs before some slaps are heard from your laptop in your room. You really need to turn that off.

“To finish your porn instead of helping your friend?” He popped up met you at the bottom of the stairs, “Come on! You still have the tools, right?” His hands ran up your arms. This man. Despite showing up unannounced, late, interrupting some ‘me time’ and requesting he use tools you don’t know how to use save for the handcuffs, you’d still help him out. Even if he could be troublesome and rude at times, he always supported you in work endeavors and listened to you talk way too much about Final Fantasy games. He blames you for knowing about crystals and different jobs like paladin and black mage.

You didn’t answer him and walked upstairs to your room, to turn the porn off but the screen was frozen, playing the same moan ever and over. The image had a man zip tied to a pole while standing as a woman sucked him off. They both were letting out a combined moan. Swallowing hard, Dieter watched you switch your weight between your large hips, he removed his robe and brown t-shirt leaving himself in his brown pajama pants and removing his gray socks. “Moon Pie. Have you ever done that sort of thing? I doubt it.” His voice snapped you after your haze, turning to look at him, confusion dots your face.

“Why did you remove your shirt? I just need to tie you up and prevent you from leaving right? Put your shirt back on Dee.” His chest only has a small splattering of dark hair on his golden skin. He lays across your bed grinning. “Wait how long am I supposed to keep you here? You’re not getting me arrested.”

“I was hot and until I don’t feel like using. Where’s the box?”

“Stay there, it’s in my office.” You’re back momentarily with the fabled box and open it, taking out the handcuffs, zip ties and tape. “Here which do you want me to use? I’m tired.” Dropping the box on the bed, he frowns, you’re not playing along, you see annoyed. Shouldn’t you be happy he’s across your bed? Dieter is, why aren’t you?

You are tired sure, but you’re hornier and more aware that Dieter is not going to want anything to do with relieving any frustration you have. Holding your hands palms out, “Just tell me what you want me tie you up with so I can set up the guest room.”

“Hey, why are you pissed at me? I’m not leaving until you help me, you said you would.” Dieter scoots to the edge of the bed and leans on his elbows. “Are you really that mad I stopped you from finishing your porn? You don’t need it.” He picks up the handcuffs out of the box and studies the pink fuzz. It looks about the same shade as your nightgown. Moon Pie hasn’t used these has she? No, they don’t look used. I think. These are mine, I bought them for her to use with me. She shouldn’t be watching porn. I need to be the toy.

“Damn it Dieter! I’m not just your friend, I’m a woman who has needs no matter if you wanna think about it or not! Fuck you!” Charging at him, you grab his shoulders and knock him back on the bed, pinning him to bed. He slaps the handcuffs on your wrist and his. “What the hell?! They’re only supposed to go on you not me!”

Bravo licks his lips and turns his head to the side to kiss your hand after pulling his wrist to his mouth. “Oh, I’ve always liked the idea of you in handcuffs. You should fuck me Moon Pie.” His curved nose inches closer to your hand and sniffs it. He has your scent now, sticking one of your fingers into his mouth and pulling it back out.

The sensation from his lips went straight to your cunt and you stifled a moan. He will not have his way; you can ensure even if you’re handcuffed to him. “You said you couldn’t picture me fucking Dee? Are you looking for that much of a distraction?” You moved to sit beside him on the bed, but he pulled you back on top, his free hand roaming freely over your love handles. “Dee, I’m not just going to be used for you staying sober.”

Leaning forward, his face connected with your neck, licking it, “I’ve been using you to stay sober since I finish rehab three years ago. I knew if I went back, it would disappoint the hell out of you.” His teeth bit into your neck and a whimper escaped, small but it was enough to encourage him. “I didn’t want to think of someone fucking you other than me. I’m sure you have; they’re flies drawn to honey.” His hand ran from your rolls to your ass squeezing it. “If I’m going to stay sober for you, I should have you, shouldn’t I?” Rolling his hips up into yours, he licks the bite and lets go of your ass slapping it.

Dropping your hips, you press right into his clothed bulge, feeling it throb against your bare cunt. “You’re insane Dieter, how does that make any sense….?” Unfortunately, he’s making it so much worse, your nipples are visible through your nightgown, erect as you leak onto his pants from your core. “This is only because you stopped me earlier with your stupid request.”

“Whatever you want to tell yourself Moon Pie. Only I’m going to see you like this from now on, right?” The pads of his fingers trail up your spine and pull down one of the straps of your nightgown letting a breast become fully exposed. He licks it before blowing on it, eliciting another whimper. “Tell me I’ll be the only one. I’ll take the handcuffs off and make sure you come. Don’t be difficult tonight. Not when I need you.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before taking it in his mouth, and sitting up, pulling you into his lap. Instinctively, both of your hands grab his head, pulling his one hand back. He disconnects from your nipple to yelp from his shoulder suddenly going back.

You grin and try to reach for the key that’s in the box since he’s distracted, but Dieter gets on his knees and pulls on his wrist, having your arm come back toward him and making you fall face first into the bed. “Dieter let me get the key, then I can lock you in another room. Clearly you need to be.” His fingers trace your thighs but don’t go any higher, sighing, he lays down next to you.

“You seriously don’t want to have sex with me? Even after I tell you I want you to be my only one? So cold to me.” He pouts. This man is seriously pouting after he’s teased you? He doesn’t move as you get the key and unlock yourself. You consider handcuffing both of his hands but release him as well. Moving to the edge of the bed, you stand and turn off your laptop then return to sit on the bed.

“You’ve got to do better than trying to guilt me into it. You’re horrible at this.” You laugh as does he. If it had been anyone else, you’d never speak to them again at minimum, Dieter rolls on his side and kisses your thigh.

“We’ve been friends how long? You know I’m shit at this. I feel like I should ask, you’re not going to have me arrested for this are you?” You poke the scruff on his cheek.

“No, though I should. You’re insane Dieter Bravo. We’ll sleep on it.” You lay back and scoot up to the head of the bed, closing your eyes.

“Did you want to finish your porn? Or make our own? It will be Moon Pie’s debut!”” Slinks up the bed and lays his head on your chest, kissing your collar bone.

“You’re a dumbass Dieter. I would tie you up but you’d like it too much. Go to sleep.” Placing your fingers in his hair to scratch his scalp makes him purr, wrapping a leg around one of yours.

“Keep scratching my head like that and we won’t be sleeping at all you cheeky Moon Pie. I’ll be under that gown soon.” His face found its way back to your neck, licking the teeth marks he made earlier. Letting out a soft groan, you pull on Dieter’s hair, so he pulls his head back. “Jokes on you, I enjoy my hair being pulled. Manipulate me more.” His grin is criminal, he should be arrested for that if anything.

It wasn’t even two hours before Dieter had your legs up around his waist. He’s temperamental and a horrible communicator but damn if he didn’t have you call him an Oscar winner while he rutted into you from behind giving you your third orgasm before one in the morning.

Trash Panda Pals 🦝: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @titlee78 @tinytinymenace @magpiepillsjunior @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @rhoorl @wannab-urs @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @yorksgirl @pedroshotwifey @heareball

[sturniolo-rat]

✨Chris Sturniolo Headcanons✨

For Black Girls✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

💋 Chris loves black girls

I’m sorry but in my head Chris prefers black girls. Like Atlanta Georgia black girls… thick, dark, dressed to the nines, hair done, acrylic nails 💅🏽💅🏾💅🏿absolute fucking queens. Like I don’t describe Y/N in any way but best believe if it’s a Chris fic she’s black to me.

💋 He sees fucking hates racists

This doesn’t actually need to be said but I figured We’d get this out of the way first. Chris definitely listens to you when you talk about race issues so he knows all about micro aggressions. He always notices them and stands up for you every time. “Baby, if anyone says that shit to you again I’m gonna catch an assault charge!”

💋 He owns silk sheets

This man most definitely would buy a full set of silk sheets after you sleep over his house for the first time and he notices you brought your own satin/silk pillowcase. He doesn’t realize it’s for your hair until he surprises you with them the next time you sleep over and you tell him. “Oh, I just thought you were being bougie.” Then he buys more sets of them because he decides to throw away all his cotton sheets.

💋 He learns your hair care routine

Chris is the only white person you trust to touch your hair. He makes taking care of your hair into a really loving and intimate experience. If you’re in the bath he adds epsom salts, sets up candles, and does a bunch of stuff to set the mood. “You have any music requests, Mama? If not I’m probably just gonna put on the sexy time playlist.” He sits out side of the bath and takes his time washing and conditioning your hair making sure to detangle and section it the way you taught him. He does the same thing when you’re in the shower except he stops occasionally to pull you close and feel you up. “Come here, Baby. You’re so fuckin’ pretty and you smell so nice and clean. I just can’t resist.”

💋 He sits with you when you’re getting your hair braided and brings you snacks

Before your appointment he packs you a lunch bag full of snacks for the both of you because of course he’s coming with you. “Alright, Baby, we’ve got Doritos, McDonald’s chicken nuggets, and a shit ton of candy. We’re all set to go.” If you think he’s not gonna come when you’re gonna be in the chair unable to get away from his yapping you are sorely mistaken. He’s always keeping everyone entertained and happy. “What’s up ladies! You have any tea for me today.” It’s just him feeding you snacks and having silly conversations with you and the person doing your hair. If you ever show up to your appointment without him everyone misses him.

💋 He pays for your acrylics

He insists on giving you the money every two weeks because he’s just “helping to keep his princess feeling pretty” He also likes to help you figure out designs and themes nails. He sends you random texts with nail inspo all the time. “I know a zoo theme seems extra, but let me cook, Mama!” I’m certain that he makes you get a C for Chris on one of your nails every time you get new set. This probably isn’t exclusive to black girls but like as a black person who gets their nails done I like to go all out on the designs and shit gets expensive.

💋 You convince him to wear a durag

He only agrees to do it one time in the house. You use the situation to teach him its use and significance in black hair care. It takes him a few tries and you have to demonstrate it a lot but eventually he is able to put it on correctly and he looks super cute. Not cute in a “this is a good look for you” kind of way, but in an aww “the little white boy is engaging in cultural appreciation” type of way. “I think if anyone saw me like this I would get cancelled.”

Taglist

Masterlist

Idk if people put their tag lists on headcanon posts??? Pls advise

@daddyslilchickenfingers2 @mrsmiagreer @rafecameronsbitch @lovergirl4387 @gdsvhtwa @ashley9282828 @j-worlds-blog @stephanienwf @achrisgirly @draculaura123 @abbypost @cind2224 @crazychrisl0v3r @ryli3sworld @bkwrld @chrattstromboli @pinkishpearls @pepsienthusiasts @stunza @sturnssmuts @angelic-sturniolos111 @69isabella69 @maryx2xx @sturniolo04 @bigbeefybitch @klaus223492 @r93339 @sturnzsblog @spotconlon55 @robins-scoop @junovrsmp4 @sturnlover4eva @blahbel668 @lilahnowheretobefound @luxy-nyx @tuffsturns @m0r94n @sturnstvs @pepsicolapussy333 @maddyslifesstuff @dogblof @honeymoonxxz @xplr-sturns-e-m @hayhjelmstad15

[aprillikesthings]

s5 ep8 Shot in the dark

woohooo

Off topic but while looking for fan art of Catra from the portal (ugh I need to try different tags) I instead saw a bunch of anti-Catra and anti-Catradora and anti-spop blogs and jfc people need to get a life and touch some grass and if I'm saying that--

(I mean, I did leave the house today with Saer and their mom, we went to Powell's books where I spent too much money but I got a couple of wlw manga and a Judith Butler book among a few other things, and also we went to a vintage clothing store that seemed to have NO END but I bought one thing there, a lavender satin bathrobe, the short kind; the only thing wrong with it was that it's a bit faded in some places and it's a little small on me but it's a bathrobe, and it was like $26 AND 100% SILK)

a question many astronauts have surely asked as well!

these two squabbling but not actually fighting always sounds like flirting, it doesn't help that a split second after that screenshot, Catra actually smiles for a second

Look. I love them.

Bow: "Adora, Catra's right" Everyone's eyes: go wide Bow: "...that felt weird to say"

the startled noise they all make when he starts talking lolol

but Catra has some flashes (from when she was in the hive mind) and says Krytis is a planet, nice. There's something there Horde Prime doesn't want them to know--so they head for Krytis, roll intro theme

:O

oh man they really did start changing this up every episode. Look at poor Perfuma's face.

Anyway on Krytis they find an old Horde ship and everyone else is trying to figure out what happened but poor Catra is remembering what it was like to be chipped :(

there's a cute moment when she notices her tail is all fluffy from fear and smooths it out before joining the others

there's a "crack" video where Entrapta's little walk here is dubbed with a clip from an ancient Spiderman show's theme song

ahaha

LOOK AT HER the way Bow says this is so great

POOR CATRA

Adora laughs longer than anyone else after Catra gets the helmet off and Catra blushes and smiles and everyone stands around not wanting the ruin the moment--and then Entrapta finds something and squeals and startles the shit out of everyone and it's SO GREAT

Catra: "So, wait, the plan is to barge ahead into the structurally unsound building to find some mystery person that we know nothing about, in hopes that they somehow know how to defeat Horde Prime?"

Bow: "You know, we were just gonna recklessly blast our way through that blockade until you stopped us. So this whole thing is basically your idea."

Catra's starting to realize what DORKS they all are and that good-natured teasing is just part of the deal

the GLEE with which they are including her

I didn't mean to get a screenshot that makes it look like Adora is staring at Catra's butt, but(t) I'm not mad about it

Meanwhile, on Etheria:

yikes

"and yet we're still stuck with you?"

HAH

Back on Krytis Wrong Hordak is having an existential crisis as he realizes Horde Prime is not perfect

Catra fuckin' slices a door into the wall

Bow: dunno if that's safe Glimmer: yeah I'm not sure about this either Adora: MY GIRLFRIEND IS STRONK and has v sharp claws isn't she perfect

seriously tho Adora is BLUSHING

Catra's face

Glimmer's too, actually

oh god it's the bit where Catra keeps sneezing at the spore things in the air and Bow is just like 🥺

Adora's reaction to this conversation is also priceless

Anyway a second later, Catra leans on the wall and sinks into it, she shrieks and Adora yells "CATRA!!" and when they pull her out the wall starts sending out HUGE MURDER SPIKES

Back on Etheria:

Castaspella: "You said you had a plan. The only reason I'm following you is because if anyone would know about mind control, it's you." Shadow Weaver: "Mind control? Is that what they told you? No. My gifts were always far subtler."

I dunno, I think torturing kids is hardly "subtle." But abuse is often hard to spot while it's happening to you.

y'know, like this shit

Okay in fairness she says she was less powerful as well and now he's chipped he's under control by the enemy and they're not strong enough to fight him

On Krytis, the Squad realizes they've gotten confused/turned around in the abandoned ship--"Isn't this where we started?!" There's a growling noise. The hallway somehow gets longer while they're walking in it. Creepy as fuck.

Oh and also it turns out Horde Prime and the First Ones fought over Krytis ages ago and Prime won but then abandoned the place anyway.

Entrapta: also there's someone right behind you

yay i know who this is lol

ALSO Catra insisting on protecting everyone is v cute

also it took me three times to get this screenshot ahahaha

and when she tackles it they both disappear

the audible PANIC

OH HEY i hit the image limit okay hold on

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 21: Lingerie with Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1938 Warnings: Reader wears Lingerie, Eddie is super into it, vaginal fingering, P in V Sex, Dirty Talk, Aftercare. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Your whole body was buzzing as you looked yourself over in the mirror.

Excitement coursing through your veins as your fingertips traced over the black lace along the top of your breasts. Heart racing as your eyes scanned over the thin satin that offered the suggestion of coverage over your waist in a draping fashion that was open in the front. Face flushing when your gaze reached the thin lacey panties underneath, which held a secret in the form of an opening for your cunt.

You and Eddie have been together for a couple years, but it took about a week to notice the man had a deep appreciation for lingerie.

His eyes would always linger when you passed the lingerie store at the mall for a moment before looking you over slowly, like he was picturing what you would look like wearing the window displays, and he never failed to watch when you got dressed at the start of the day, eyes tracking the movements as you pulled your panties up you legs with a heat that made your heart race.

That second scenario has led to more than one pre-work quickie.

So, you’d decided to give him a little surprise. It had taken a little time to save up the money to buy a set of decent quality, not wanting something that’ll fall apart the first time you wear it, then it was a matter of getting a chance to spring the surprise.

Eddie usually worked evening shifts, while you worked in the morning, so he was always home when you got back, but you were asleep by the time he came home. It made for a rather inconvenient window of opportunity.

But not today. Today Eddie had filled in for a coworker who needed to call out, and you had the day off. You’d spent most of the day cleaning up around your shared apartment just to keep from vibrating out of your skin with excitement.

Time felt like it was moving at half speed till it finally reached six o’clock, when you could expect him home, and as soon as the hand on the clock hit six you all but raced to your bedroom with a giddy grin.

You had no doubt he would love the set you chose; he’s always telling you how drop dead gorgeous you look in black, and his favorite of your dresses was mostly lace. This was the best of three things you knew he liked.

You’d just smoothed the silk down for the third time since you’d been looking at yourself when you heard the front door open.

“Babydoll?” Eddie’s voice called as the door closed. “Where ya at?” You could picture him putting his stuff down, looking around for you.

“In the bedroom!” You called back as you went to sit on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other while leaning back on your hands.

“Take a nap did ya…?” He started as he made his way down the hall before trailing off when he walked through the door. Pretty brown eyes going wide as they trailed over your form. “Holy shit…” He breathed reverently before finally looking back at you with a slow grin spreading over his face. “What’s all this, Sweetheart?”

“Thought I’d surprise you.” You answered sweetly as you watched him slowly approach you, eyes darting all over your body, like they couldn’t decide where they wanted to look more.

“Color me very pleasantly surprised.” He said as he took your hand and guided you to stand so he could fully see you. “Jesus Christ…” He breathed.

“You like it?” You asked, knowing what his answer would be.

“Like it? Baby, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.” His eyes met yours and his pupils were wide and full of heat.

Grinning, you took his hand and guided it to your side. “It’s not just for show…” You prompted, moving closer as your hands trailed up his chest slowly.

His smile turned into a smirk before he pulled you in, claiming your lips with his own as his free hand came to cradle your face. Your hands met his hair to pull his as close as possible while your body pressed to his, giving you a good feel of his hardening dick in his jeans.

The kiss quickly grew more and more in intensity and heat as tongues and teeth joined in, his hands roaming to feel as much as possible before yours were tugging his shirt off, forcing you to break the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, sending wild curls every which way.

Before he could pull you back in, you turned him so you could push him to sit on the bed before climbing onto his lap, lips attaching to his neck to leave little purple marks where everyone could see, and earning a low groan for your efforts.

Your hips unconsciously began to grind down against his, which made those sounds he was making turn breathy as he rolled his own hips up into yours, his hands gripping at your as if to keep himself tethered to earth.

The opening in the panties meant your pussy was grinding directly on the stiff material of his jeans, sending zings of pleasure through your body, and when Eddie moved his hand between your thighs, clearly expecting to pull them aside but instead being met with no barrier, he let out an almost animalistic growl, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Christ, Sweetheart, this just keeps getting better…” He said, voice low and needy as he leaned in to give your neck the same treatment you’d just given his while his fingers ran up and down your wet pussy, rubbing slow circles on your clit for just a moment before he was pushing two into you. “So fucking wet. you been thinking about this all day, Baby?” He asked against your hot skin.

You nodded. “Mmhmm…” You managed breathily. “Been planning this for a while.” You explained as you pushed your hips down on his hand, desperately seeking more of his touch.

He let out a quiet chuckle and while you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smirking. “Yeah? Well, all your planning has paid off, Princess.” He said before attaching his lips to your neck and leaving what you were certain was going to be a massive hickey later at the same time as he curled his fingers, rubbing up against your g-spot.

The sound you made was high and breathy as your back arched into him. “Eddie!” You gasped, hands gripping onto him in the same way his hand been not moments ago.

He chuckled again. “Such pretty noises.” He teased as he continued to finger you, now pressing the heel of his hand against your clit.

“Eds, please…Need more…Fuck…” You felt your thighs beginning to shake.

“C’mon, Pretty girl, cum on my fingers, then I’ll give you my cock…” He promised, and while you couldn’t see him, as your eyes had fallen closed, you could tell he was watching you as you got closer and closer to your peak.

And it didn’t take long, not when those skilled guitarist fingers were working you so perfectly.

You clung to him so tight you were sure your nails were leaving tracks on his back as you came, a half-finished cry of his name on your lips and your soaking cunt gripping the life out of his fingers. “That’s it, Baby…That’s my girl…” He whispered as he worked you through wave after wave of pleasure.

It didn’t take more than a couple minutes before you were pulling him in for another heated kiss, all tongues and teeth right away, the fire in your belly stoking once more. And he didn’t waste anytime in taking hold of you and laying you out on the bed, standing just long enough to rid himself of his jeans, which had long since become uncomfortable.

Your hands trailed up his arms as he crawled over you, settling between your parted legs, his eyes trailed over your body, once more appreciating how you looked in all the lace and satin, now a little wrinkled but no less pretty and soft. “So beautiful, Babydoll.” He said softly, more love than lust, but the lust was right there on the edges. “I love you.”

You smiled up at him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. “I love you too, Eds.” You said as he pressed a kiss to your palm softly.

The affectionate moment lasted for a moment longer before he was kissing his way down your arm to your neck, where he added a couple more marks while his hips rutted against yours, the head of his cock brushing against your swollen and aching clit, providing sweet friction that made you gasp.

“I believe I promised you my cock if you came on my fingers…And I’m a man of my word.” He teased slowly, pressing more kisses into your soft skin every other word, trailing down over the swell of your breasts.

Taking his cock in hand, he pressed into you slowly, dark eyes clenching shut as his mouth fell open though no sounds came out, not that you were much different, back arching up as he filled you to the brim, a delicious stretch that you never got tired of.

He stayed still for a long moment, clearly trying not to cum, as his hands trailed up and down your body, basking in your every soft curve and dip as he pulled himself back from the edge. And once his breathing evened out, he started a nice slow rhythm, filling you over and over again, pulling so many sweet noises from your lips that formed a pretty song when they met the sounds of your slick.

But soon that slow rhythm wasn’t enough for either of you, and he sped up, adding the slap of skin on skin to your melody of noises, and quickly building your second orgasm with every thrust.

“Jesus…Grippin’ me so tight, Baby…Shit…Gonna make me cum. Christ- You want it? Hmm? You want me to fill you up?” He was rambling, and such sweet filth from those full lips that had you clenching around him.

“Shit…Please, please, Eds…Please…” You begged, mind going delirious and foggy as each drag of his thick cock on your sweet spot got you so close to your end.

Your heart was racing, and there was a moan on every breath even before he decided to reach down and start rubbing tight circles into your clit, but once he did, you didn’t just call off that edge, you were thrown.

Your whole body lit up, vision going white, pussy turning vicelike on his cock, breath so thoroughly stolen that you couldn’t even cry out.

Eddie followed quickly after, heat blooming in your belly as he let out a shuddery moan.

His hips slowed but didn’t stop as you both rode out your pleasure, and when you both began to teeter on the edge of oversensitivity he pulled out, reaching to the nightstand for a tissue to clean you up a little before he was pressing soft kisses to your face.

“You okay, Princess?” He asked softly.

“Mmh…” You sighed with a blissed-out smile. “I’m great.” You answered softly. “How bout you?”

He grinned and looked you over slowly. “I’m fan-fucking-tastic, Baby.” He said before pulling you into a deep, slow, kiss.

You hummed happily into it. “Good, because we’re so doing this again.”

[therenlover]

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Five: Doubt Comes In

Pairings: Raphael/Tav, Haarlep/Tav, past Astarion/Tav, blink and you'll miss it Karlach/Wyll

Word Count: 7,300~

Synopsis: An unexpected encounter with old friends sends Tav's reality into a spiral, making her question everything she believes to be true. Meanwhile, Astarion learns the truth.

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: Semi-Realistic Depictions of Trauma Responses, Panic Attacks, and PTSD

Tags: Memory Loss, Emotional Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Epiphanys, Reunions,

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

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Things changed slowly and all at once.

After their night in the snow, Raphael was around more. He invited Tav to his chair at the fireplace to read her poetry and found himself sitting at the dinner table when she took her meals. Not every meal, but at first some and then many and then most. After a while, the gifts came; a golden fiddle for her to learn to play, a wardrobe filled to the brim with lavish dresses, crates and crates of romance novels for her to peruse. Quills and brushes and crates of canvas, paint, and ink appeared in his office bearing small tags with her name on them in Raphael’s signature red script. She had choice. She had the sweet illusion of freedom and endless ways to pass the time. 

Things were not always happy. Raphael was a man who raged. He required a gentle hand and a cautious approach. The more time Tav spent with him the more aware she became of just what would swing his moods one way or another. Still, she adapted. She overcame. She built a new life where bending gently towards his whims was as easy as breathing. After a while, he didn’t need to rage anymore. One well-placed glare or tut would put Tav back on the right track.

Sex was sex as it always was and always would be. Perhaps a bit monotonous and a little more infrequent than it had been in the past, but Tav didn’t mind. She liked that it wasn’t her purpose anymore. There was a world outside of Raphael’s bed and that was enough to keep her happy to please him when she was in it. 

Time passed quicker now. There were still no days, no nights, no months to track, but Tav’s life was filled with options; hobbies to pick up, books to read, someone to talk to. She was living. Sometimes that required sacrifices or compromises, yes, but it was better than what she’d known. She relished in every moment she had a choice to make, no matter how small.

The small choice in front of her now, though, was beginning to grate at even her saintly patience.

“Can I please set my arms down now, Raphael,” Tav groaned.

The devil shook his head, stroking his chin slightly as he admired the velvet pinned together on her form. He let his fingers pull the ocean-blue fabric taut against her arm before placing another pin to hold it. “Patience, little mouse.” 

“I’ve had patience! I’ve been standing here like… forever,” 

“Trust me, if I desired to have you model for me forever it would be much longer and far more agonizing,” Raphael warned. “Now turn, just a few more adjustments and I’ll set you free,” Tav knew enough about the tone of his voice to stop pressing. She turned on the small crate she was using as a platform, letting Raphael access the back of the dress. He let out a pleased hum as his pinching and pinning and marking continued. 

Tav’s eyes danced along the wooden mannequins that crowded the room around them, taking in the veritable mess of dresses she’d already been fitted for. Silks and cottons and velvets and satins and furs sat in hefty bolts resting on every open surface, even leaning up against the precious bookcase making the lower-placed books completely inaccessible until the fabrics were moved. “Remind me again why I need a whole new wardrobe?” 

A stray pin suck her as she shifted and Raphael set a large palm on her waist, holding her in place. “Because you don’t currently have anything appropriate for the outing I have planned,”

She sucked in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. “Will you tell me where we’re going yet?”

“That depends, will it stop your ceaseless questioning and get you to keep still?” Raphael asked, placing one last pin before turning Tav to face him. Finally, her posture slipped and her arms came down to her sides as she took in his irritated form. She chewed her lip and stared at the floor. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d accompanied Raphael outside the House of Hope. Since their evening in the snow they had taken a few scattered trips, mostly to his suite in Sharess’ Caress or fields throughout Faerun, but nothing that required any specific outfits, especially not a whole new closet filled with them. Best of all, even Haarlep had been included in the fittings, though they had only been fitted for one new dress and tunic compared to her dozens of ensembles. Excitement drowned out the uncertainty. This was big: a family outing. A chance to be gone from the House of Hope for more than just one night. 

Tav itched with the anticipation of it. That only made holding still so much more difficult.

Without waiting for a response, Raphael sighed. “If you truly must know, my brother Zephor has invited me to celebrate the birth of his first son. These things are rather… significant to us devils. It is incredibly important that we give the right impression.”

“And the dresses you’ve already had made for me wouldn’t do that?” Tav couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the ridiculousness of it. 

“They’d assume you’re a concubine,” Raphael replied matter-of-factly, “I can’t have that.” 

Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t that technically what I am? Well, if Haarlep and I could be considered a harem, that is. Are archdevils supposed to have more than two concubines? Wait- no, I don’t want to know. Forget I asked.” Despite the glibness of it all, it gave Tav a lot to consider. It seemed incredibly important to Raphael to not only bring her to such a significant event but also for her to be perceived as something other than a concubine by what she assumed were very important players in the great game of chess set in Avernus. But why? She didn’t dare ask. She was worried about what the answer might mean. 

“What matters is that you will be presented alongside Haarlep as a protected member of my home. The great Hero of Faerun will be known throughout the Hells as someone loyal to me and me alone. You can handle that, can’t you little mouse?” Raphael’s eyes burned deep orange as he placed his hands on his hips. Tav nodded without needing to think. “Good. Now, let me finish this damned thing… and stop moving, or else,” The threat was more playful than anything, especially when he paired it with a slight pinch to Tav’s ass, but she was quick to retake her position as he made his final touches to her gown. 

It had to be perfect, after all, if she was finally going to meet his family.

———

“Not what you thought it would be?” Haarlep seemed to hold back laughter as they asked. 

Tav didn’t even dignify their question with a response as she watched the roomful of quietly mingling infernals shift around her. 

No, she hadn’t quite expected this.

Waiting for Zephor’s celebration had been a new type of torture in and of itself. 

There hadn’t been a clear timeline about exactly when they would be leaving, so Tav sat in a state of constant anticipation, waiting for Raphael to finally announce their departure. It was nice to have something to look forward to but so damn difficult to wait for it to actually happen. In the time leading up to the party, her usual nightmares barely plagued her. Instead, she was visited by dreams of strange, fantastical masquerades where a shadowy Raphael brought her body close to his in an endless, spinning dance.

The pale elf was there too. He was always there, somewhere. 

At least he wasn’t taking a leading role in these new dreams, unlike the usual nightmares. He just tended to lurk in dark corners until she caught his crimson gaze, disappearing into the crowd the moment she looked away. It was more disconcerting than frightening. She was just glad he was leaving her alone, even just for the moment. As long as she could forget those eyes when she woke up she had something to be grateful for. 

In the end, Tav didn’t have many sleeps between her final dress fittings and their sudden departure. One day Zephor’s emissaries simply walked up to the dining table with a brand new mirror for the portal room and suddenly they were walking through to the other side within the hour, impeccably dressed and groomed and prepared for just about anything except for what awaited her. 

If the House of Hope was a castle in Avernus, Zephor’s home was a palace.

Chandeliers of gold studded with shimmering arrays of precious stones hung from great, vaulted ceilings of basalt in halls that stretched farther than Tav could even see, lighting the way for thousands of infernal party guests as they wandered about. It was more people than she could ever remember seeing in one place. Even in the thin silk of her dress, with nearly her whole back exposed by the plunging fabric, Tav felt smothered by the sheer proximity to so many bodies. She clung to Raphael’s arm like a lifeline as he greeted two lithe succubi clad in red, draping fabric and golden chains. 

Haarlep’s jaw tightened slightly at the sight of them, but Tav didn’t mention it. She was trying too hard not to pass out.

After a few pleasantries that she entirely missed in her nausea, Raphael gingerly removed himself from her grasp and walked off into the crowd without so much as a goodbye, leaving her stunned at Haarlep’s side. A short, very fuzzy time later she was standing off at the wall with the incubus sipping on a glass of something that might have passed for juice without its effervescence, trying to press herself as close to the bricks as physically possible. 

So no, she hadn’t expected the day to go as it had. 

Thankfully Haarlep was merciful, sheltering her from most of the room with their carefully angled wingspan as they chuckled. “To your credit, you’re doing much better than I expected you to,” Their flowing emerald robes smelled faintly of the herbal soap of the baths, and it served to ground Tav slightly in the moment, but her head still spun with every breath. “When I went to my first gala before I even held a place in Mephistopheles’ court I ended up so raging drunk that, once I was done deeply embarrassing myself and my family name, I sat in a corner of a guest dormitory for 3 days straight until I sobered up,” 

Tav let out an airy laugh. “Really?” 

“Cross my heart,” Haarlep promised

Somehow, knowing she wasn’t alone eased the anxiety just enough for her to stand up away from the wall without feeling like she was about to fall right back into it. “So, is Raphael going to come back? Or is this a thing,” She wiggled her fingers through the air for emphasis. 

“The bastard will be back eventually, hopefully soon, but yes, it’s a… thing,” Haarlep groaned, straightening the ornate silver tassels that covered their long, drooping sleeves. “He’s spending time with the inner circle of his family before all the guests arrive and the party truly begins. No one who doesn’t share a blood connection with the noble family is allowed within the sacred chambers, not even the closest of concubines or allies. There’s too much room for spying and deception. I would know,” Haarlep grinned, leaning their arm up against the wall and running their clawed fingers through their hair as their fleshy wings flexed and tightened. Despite the fact that they wore Raphael's face like their own, the incubus seemed to emulate the devil a little extra at the moment. “Sometimes it shocks me that you don’t understand infernal culture. You’ve fit so well into the house that I often forget you haven’t been there forever,” 

The compliment was blatant and Tav was happy to take it. 

Raphael was never one to give compliments, especially when they weren’t doubly due. Haarlep didn’t tend to be much better. So to hear her place was so cemented in their lives? To know the honor it must be to be chosen to accompany them to such a large, important event? She was hungry to know more, desperate to master her etiquette and show them just how grateful she was to be out of the house in a place like this. 

Her fear of the crowd was tamped down a bit by her determination. The last thing she needed was for Raphael to come back and see her acting like a mess. She needed to make him proud. She didn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t, but she’d definitely never be allowed to leave the house like this again. 

That couldn’t be allowed to happen. 

“So how does all of this work?” Tav asked, crossing her arms and letting a bit of her drink slosh over the edge of her strange, stemless goblet. “Does everybody just stand around and talk for a few days? Or are there things we have to do while we’re here?” Around her, the crowd ebbed and flowed through the hall as even more guests seemed to arrive through the mirror. 

“I haven’t been to many birth celebrations, but if I recall correctly they follow a similar calendar to other major infernal celebrations. There will be one day of rest as the invited parties gather,” Haarlep paused momentarily, “that’s today if you hadn’t picked that up. Then, once everyone has settled in there will be nine days of festivities. Usually, each day has some sort of main event, like ritual combat or musical performances dedicated to the guest of honor, in this case the baby, and every day begins and ends with a great feast. Then on the eleventh day, everyone returns home, the most distant acquaintances first and the closest family last. Easy, right?”

Tav let herself loosen up, rolling her shoulders slightly as she unclenched her jaw. “Yeah, easy,” Her mind was a million miles away.

No wonder Raphael had insisted on so many outfits. 

Eleven whole days away from the House of Hope. Eleven days filled with music and drinking and mingling and entertainment. It was everything she had been dreaming of and more, and yet… why was she still so worried? It must have been a lack of practice. Yes! It must be. She had never been exceedingly personable, most of her friendships were made accidentally or forged in horrific circumstances that she’d rather not repeat, and now that she’d spent so much time with nobody besides Raphael and Haarlep to talk to her social skills were much more than rusty. Of course being faced with what felt like the entire population of Avernus without any guidebook or guidance would set her on edge.

Yeah. That had to be it. 

Haarlep’s eyes raked over her and she could tell they saw right through her brave facade. “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?” They asked, “You don’t have to lie to me, Raphael isn’t here.” It was rare to see true concern from the incubus, but the way their wing curled closer around her told her all she needed to know. 

“No, no, I’m fine. No nightmares, at least not the usual kind. I just… I don’t know,” Tav took another sip of her drink. Her chest heaved against the loose silk nestled between her breasts, heartbeat drowning out the crowd in her ears. She felt smothered in the ambient heat. “I don’t know! I don’t know any of this. I don’t know how to talk to these people. I can barely remember who I’m supposed to be, Haarlep. What if I do something wrong? What if I embarrass you? What if Raphael sends me back home and never lets me come with him again to anything? What if he sends me down with the other souls again? I can’t go back there Haarlep. Please don’t make me go back,” Words fell from her manic lips like a mad woman. 

Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t manage to keep them still.

“Tav?” 

The incubus’ voice sounded like they were underwater, a million worlds away. 

“Tav.” 

Where was she again? It was so loud and bright and-

“Tav!” Haarlep gripped her shoulders nearly hard enough to bruise. “Come back to me,”

The room stopped spinning. When had it started spinning?

“What?” 

Haarlep let out a heavy breath. “Nothing, Tav,” 

They gave her a reassuring squeeze before letting go of her shoulder. 

Neither of them spoke for a while, not wanting to acknowledge whatever had just happened. Tav’s face burned with embarrassment. When she finally did speak, it was incredibly quiet in the general roar of the room. “I’m sorry. I embarrassed us.” 

“Don’t be,” Haarlep replied before she had a chance to say more. Tav reached a hand out to them, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly before letting them go, and the incubus smiled. “Do you want to know a secret? You couldn’t have embarrassed us even if you tried. We outrank almost every infernal being in this room right now.” 

The relief was palpable as Tav’s eyes scanned the room. “Really?”

“Would I lie to you about something this serious?” They asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Yes,” Tav replied dryly. 

“Touché,” Haarlep chuckled, “I am being honest though, cross my heart,”

She finished the rest of her goblet in one gulp, relishing in the way the fizz burned down her throat. It dulled the worst of the shaking that threatened to take her to the wall again and all the way down to the floor this time. “How can you tell we're above them?”

Haarlep shifted to stand beside her, wrapping their wing around her conspiratorially as they leaned their face close. “Watch the crowd pass by. Pay close attention to their clothes, the way they act, the way they speak,” 

Around them, the great masses paid no mind to their little huddle, instead shifting towards great tables of punches and mead barrels and luscious fruits that Tav had never seen before. It was a dark and monotonous crowd. Infernal creatures sidestepped tieflings in their doublets of charcoal, slate, and onyx. Then, as the crowd shifted, a flash of bright color appeared. Opposite Tav and huddled around a small card table was a group of humanoid women— some elvish and drow, but mostly human from the look of them— dressed in similar chains and red dresses to those the succubi had been wearing. All at once she could see outliers everywhere: Another drow in crimson leaning in a doorway, a tall tiefling woman in a dress as green as Haarlep’s robes, a gnome plucking at a lute in a doublet the hue of summer dandelions…

“Colors,” Tav muttered.

The incubus beamed. “Bravo. We use colors at events like this to quickly determine what sort of company we’re in,”

She gazed at the party with new eyes, scanning the masses for flashes of brilliant hue under the candlelight. “Most of them are in black or grey,” 

“Those are the infernal working class, for lack of a better term,” Haarlep replied, gesturing with a clawed hand. “They are invited here for the sake of having as many attendees as possible to serve as a show of the host’s popularity and social outreach. If you don’t belong to a great profession or family in the hells, that’s as far as you’ll ever go unless you learn an important trade, in which case you’ll be permitted to wear yellow at events like this, or you become a concubine in a devil’s home,” 

Tav pointed covertly towards the group of women. “I assume concubines wear red?” 

“Yes. Major archdevils, hosts, and their families will wear purple, like Raphael is wearing today, and servants will wear white or cream to be easily identified for assistance by party guests.”

She hummed softly as she took it in, smoothing down the fabric at her hips. She was suddenly aware of how the sapphire fabric glistened in the lights like billions of tiny gemstones sat hidden in the threads. “Haarlep?”

“Hm?” 

“If we’re basically concubines, why aren’t we wearing red?” Tav asked.

“Well,” they straightened up, “That’s because we aren’t concubines the same way these others are. Raphael respects me far too much for that. Concubines can be openly enjoyed at events like this, and traded between masters without a second thought,” There was a shade of discomfort in their prideful tone. Not as much as she had felt earlier but enough to know the subject had been a slightly sore one at one time, even if it didn’t bother them as much anymore. “No, I wear green to signify that I am a defender of Raphael’s home. If someone wears green they are willing to kill or die for their master, and they accompany them as a bodyguard or diplomat. I am not his equal or his family, but I am much more than a hired servant or whore.” 

Tav could almost hear their teeth grind as they clenched their jaw. It was rare for Haarlep to get shaken like this. She didn’t think it suited him. Desperate to change the subject and help them the same way they’d calmed her, she asked, “So what does blue mean? Is it like a soul bargain thing, announcing to everyone that Raphael tamed the big bad Hero of Faerun?” Her voice was a teasing, lilting thing as she looked over the crowd for another speck of blue, but it was notably absent from the crowd. The incubus stayed quiet. “Haarlep?”

“It’s hard to explain,” they sighed. 

“Is it a bad thing?” 

“No. How do I explain this in a way you’ll understand?” Haarlep steepled their fingers against their mouth. “Blue is a color of distinguished honor for someone who may not be family by infernal blood or pact but is considered protected and dearly cherished. Devils do not cherish by nature. They covet. To be cherished is something that has to be earned, and it is a position respected above most other things. Even Zariel and her lot wouldn’t dare touch their greatest enemy at a party like this if they were dressed in blue.” Their dark eyes caught Tav’s, and for a second she could almost swear that they were jealous. “Raphael wore blue for a while when he was just coming into his power, thanks to being one of Mephistopheles’ favorite sons at the time. It took the target off his back while he was just gaining power, letting him reach maturity without having to worry about assassins and repercussions. His… his mother was given the distinction of wearing blue as well, for bearing a chosen son,”

Her chest felt tight again as Haarlep retracted their wings back to their usual resting position, fiddling again with the drape of their great sleeves as they looked anywhere but at her. 

Raphael's words from her fittings rang in her ears. “They’d assume you’re a concubine. I can’t have that.” 

She had needed a whole new wardrobe. Almost every dress he’d had brought in for her before was some shade of black or white or red, and he refused to let her be seen as something other than what she was. But what was that? A trophy? A soul? A partner? 

A wife?

Tav went to take another strong drink from her cup only to realize it was already empty. The floor swam as a sea of shadows danced around her. 

She should be appreciative that he hadn’t let her walk out of that portal like a lamb wrapped for market. She should be proud to be seen at Raphael’s side in a place of honor. She should be happy. It seemed there were a lot of things Tav should have been that night that she wasn’t. 

That list included drunk.

“Was this alcoholic?” She asked Haarlep, raising her glass. 

They shrugged. “Probably,” 

“Do you mind grabbing me another one if it is? Or- fuck it. Grab me something that’s definitely alcoholic and bring one for yourself too,” she said. They took the cup without needing much more encouragement. “I think we could both do with embarrassing ourselves tonight, just a little,”

The strange tenseness sitting in Haarlep’s shoulders loosened a bit. “What the boss doesn’t know…” 

“The boss can’t kill us for; I know. Now go, before he gets back,” She gave the incubus her best smile as they sauntered away. 

As soon as their back was turned and they'd disappeared into the crowd she was pressed to the wall again, breaths coming in great heaves as she wrapped her arms around her own body. 

She felt mummified. Every inch of her skin seemed to stretch taut over her too-big skeleton, wrapping her up into a crumbling, shaky coffin of her own flesh. What the fuck was wrong with her? She hadn’t felt like this for so long, since the first horrid days of her stay in the House of Hope where she tried so desperately to escape with her life. Everything was just… wrong, like some sort of wobbling carnival mirror was reflecting the truth of her life back at her for the first time in a while. Had she really lost her dignity so easily? Sold out to the devil after a few quick fucks and a slap on the wrist? Once she would have rather died at his hand than let him own her soul. Now she was standing at a party celebrating the birth of his nephew wearing the equivalent of a giant sign dedicating her life to him.

The worst part was that she was almost certain that she loved him. 

Tav didn’t know when apathy and attraction had turned into fondness, or when that fondness had turned into something more, but she knew it was there, driving her desperately to please the devil that owned her. 

Was this how Haarlep felt for all of these years; this itching guilty madness? Desperately serving the man they loved knowing there was a near zero chance that he would ever reciprocate?

Because Raphael couldn’t reciprocate. He wouldn’t.

She felt horrifically exposed as she sucked in lungfuls of thick, sulphuric air. Eyes watched her from all directions. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to compose herself, and she desperately needed to compose herself or something very bad was going to happen. What? She didn’t know, but she did know that outcome needed to be avoided at all costs. 

Red flashed in Tav’s periphery somewhere out in the crowd and her heart thumped a rapid drumbeat again. She couldn't find it as soon as she blinked. 

It must be the pale elf. He had followed her here. Found her here. 

She pushed herself away from the wall as her chest heaved and she joined the fray, bodies pressing against her on every side. She needed to find him. She needed to ask him who he was and why he was haunting her. It felt like if she just got a good look at him again in the clear candlelight it would somehow give her the answers she needed about who she was and why she'd given in to Raphael so easily. Shoving towards the red in the distance, she pushed and pushed and pushed, eyes wild, until-

“Soldier?” 

The red was right there in front of her, but no pale elf waited on the other side. Instead, a ghost clad in green leather was leaning up against a tall candlestand. Every screaming swirling thought in Tav’s mind went quiet all at once as she took in the sight of the tiefling. 

“Karlach?”

“Soldier!” 

Before Tav could react she was being brought into the tightest hug she could remember. 

Karlach was warm, but not in the same way Raphael and Haarlep were. She burned with a sharp, stinging heat that made Tav’s skin tingle at the contact, but it was so familiar; like coming home. Her tears were evaporating before they could even drip down her cheeks. 

A voice called out from the crowd as another body emerged, holding two mugs of something frothy. “Karlach, where did you- Tav?” 

The mugs crashed to the floor, shattering against the stone. 

Tav’s voice was a creak as the tiefling eased up. “Wyll,” The former warlock’s face was an open book as she tripped over her feet to reach him, pulling him into his own hug. He looked different now, more golden baubles adorned his hair and his beard was fuller with a few small flecks of white, but he still smiled with the radiance of a thousand suns. “Gods, Wyll,” A hysterical laugh escaped her, “Karlach, you’re really here!”

“We’re really here,” Wyll repeated, clasping her forearms in his broad hands. "A Baldurian noble needed a trusted escort to be here, and we just so happened to be the only ones available in the area," 

“Where else would we be?” Karlach slung an arm over Tav’s shoulder, “All the coolest people are in Avernus these days, haven’t you heard?” 

They’d both been in Avernus all this time?

Something in Tav’s quivering heart broke ever so slightly. They’d been so close to her for all this time. Why had they never come for her? Almost all of the resentment that had been festering during her time in the House of Hope dissolved now that she was actually seeing her companions in the flesh, replaced with desperate relief. It didn’t matter that they’d failed her before. She couldn't care less. What mattered was that they were there now. She was Tav again. 

Slowly, a crack in the door appeared; the slightest chance that she could leave the hells alive with the help of her friends. The hard question now was whether she really wanted to…

Wyll had always been perceptive, and that hadn’t changed in the time since she’d seen him last. “Are you alright, Tav? I’m going to be entirely honest, you look like shit,” His stone eye whirred softly as he looked over her trembling body. 

“I’m just so glad to see you guys again. I don’t even know what to say,”

“And we’re glad to see you! Gods, it’s been ages!” Karlach squeezed Tav to her side, long dark braids running down her back. Had the tiefling’s braids always been that long or was that a new development? “I can’t say I’m shocked that Astarion got an invitation, or that he dressed you up in blue today, traditions be damned. He always did have a flare for the dramatic and a plan for everything. Is his lordliship around?” She scanned the room, raising on to her toes to gain a bit better vantage for a moment. 

Tav paused. “Astarion?” The name sounded so oddly familiar. It was right on the tip of her tongue… 

Karlach let out a groan, untangling herself from the former hero. Wyll, though, just crossed his arms over his chest as Tav laughed nervously. “Don’t tell me that useless bloodsucker sent you all the way to Avernus alone to work out his business for him… did he?” Concern laced her every word. “Has he been taking care of you, Soldier?” 

“Karlach, I don’t think-” Wyll cut in, but Tav was quick to set both of them straight. 

“You’re not making any sense. Who’s Astarion?” She asked. 

“Only the bastard who’s been sequestering you away from us for the last six odd years!” Karlach laughed. It was a tight, nervous thing. “Wyll? Can you back me up here?” 

But Wyll didn’t speak. He was too fixated on Tav’s rapidly failing knees. If he had been less perceptive she would have collapsed clean to the floor, but he was able to catch her on the way down, fanning her with a hand as he shouted something she couldn’t quite discern up to his partner.

Bloodsucker. The question of who this mystery vampire was hung over Tav like a plague. Her head felt like it could split in two every time she tried to think of what that damned name reminded her of. Those piercing crimson eyes were the only things that flashed into her mind, and the agony of the nightmares that came with them. Why? She couldn’t say. 

That was just the cherry on top of the true horror, though. 

She started to babble wildly. The crowd was forgotten entirely as she clung to Wyll like a lifeline. “Six years?” She gasped low. “Six years? I’ve been stuck down here for six whole years?” 

“Talk to me, Tav,” his voice was an anchor. “Where did he take you? Where have you been?” Wyll was rarely a ruthless man to those who did not deserve his special brand of justice, but when he murmured under his breath “I’m going to kill that bastard,” Tav believed him. The thin strangeness in his face all made so much more sense now knowing he had grown so much further into his adulthood than when she’d seen him last. 

Six years…

It was like waking from a nightmare, only to realize that was a dream and the real nightmare had been her life all along. 

“Wyll,” Karlach called. She sounded almost nervous as she backed up to the swordsman. 

Tav didn’t even have time to answer before the great shadow of wings obscured the lights above.

“I suggest you let my master’s property go before we begin to have problems, Blade of Avernus,” Haarlep hissed, crushing a full glass of fizzing liquid in their clawed fist. Their voice was ice cold. In all of the time she’d known Haarlep, Tav had never seen them so mad. For the first time in years, she feared the incubus she would have trusted with her life not ten minutes before. 

Their words sent a jolt up her spine. Property? Was that all they saw her as? Something to be possessed? It was almost unbelievable, but only almost. A sliver of her, deep down, had feared that was the case since she’d first met the infernal pair. That didn’t make the confirmation any easier, though. It speared right through to the core of her. 

Karlach was up in arms in an instant. She pulled her sword from the back of her leathers and stood in front of the pair on the floor. There was no fear in her eyes even as the crowd began to murmur and part around them. “Motherfucker! Raphael is involved in all of this?” 

Haarlep’s wings flared. “I don’t have time for your questions.” Their eyes shifted to the floor, face an unreadable mask. “Tav, come here,”

She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She just froze in the moment as everyone around her tugged at the little loose string at the edge of her reality. Tug, tug, tug, and off it went! Unraveling itself in real-time before her eyes. A crowd was gathering now. Flashes of emerald and forest and chartreuse crept closer in the sea of dark, undulating bodies. If they all pounced at once they would drown her there on the floor of that party and maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. Karlach took another step back towards her and Wyll. 

Karlach and Wyll; Her friends, her deserters, her empty home. 

They would surely die here, defending their little sapphire in the mine, their precious hero of Faerun. Raphael would come and he’d eat them alive.

“Tav,” Haarlep tried again. “Now.”

Tav was not brave. She had not been brave for a very, very long time. But selfless? Selfless was something she could be. She could take a shaky stand on legs that so desperately wanted to fail her and walk right back into hell so long as it meant they didn’t go with her. Suffering had become her close companion somewhere in her life. She could bear the weight of that old friend a little while longer. 

For them, she could. 

“Let me go, Wyll,” 

His arms slackened around her. “What? No, Tav, we’re getting you out of here,” 

“Wyll,” She smiled. “It’s ok. Let me go,”

And he did. He understood there wasn't any way to convince her otherwise. She’d made her choice, the only one that mattered in the end anyway, and who was he to stop her? 

Karlach was protesting as Wyll helped Tav stand but she didn't hear it. Pure instinct had already taken over, adrenaline and spite driving every movement she made. Haarlep was happy to receive her. At least they looked happy.

“We’re going home?” She asked, voice flat.

The incubus nodded. “Raphael is already waiting for us. He’s incredibly displeased,” Something about their tone told her she wasn’t the only one he was displeased with. 

Wyll had to hold Karlach back to keep her from lunging. She was shouting curses at the winged beast as they ushered Tav away. She couldn’t handle the sight, and so she turned away from them without a goodbye. 

They deserved better than that, she knew, but she had nothing worth offering that they’d want to accept. It was better this way, for all of them. A horrible part of her wished they’d never crossed paths at all but it was inevitable, wasn’t it? At least now it could be over. Tav would surely never be allowed out of the House of Hope again, or probably not for the next six years at least, or maybe six thousand more than that. She only hoped that they never again laid eyes on the shameful shell of a hero she’d become.

Haarlep guided the pair of them through the crowd, shielding her from the world on their silent march towards the gallows. With every heavy footfall, she felt weaker. 

She just wanted to go home. 

“Only a little further now,” Their voice was sickeningly soft. “I’ve got you.” 

Tav scoffed. “You shouldn’t talk to Raphael’s property that way.” 

The incubus winced as they approached the mirror, followed by thousands of hungry, peering eyes. “Tav, you know-”

“Just take me home,” 

The last thing Tav thought of before stepping through the mirror was the misplaced shock on Karlach’s face when Haarlep had mentioned Raphael. It was funny to see her so surprised. She’d sold her soul right in front of everyone, after all, to keep the crown. What a silly, impossible thing thing to forget. So impossible, and yet she couldn’t even recall the moment herself.

Then the portal pulled her in and the world went black.

———

Ancunin Manor tended to be mostly quiet in the daylight hours. 

The spawn knew better than to leave their chambers without proper protective attire and most didn’t even bother with that. The master liked to bask, after all, and there was no guarantee that every window and door in the castle wouldn’t be wide open to let as much light in as possible. To avoid accidentally burning to a crisp most of them just napped or spent their time sequestered away with a book until the sunset came. 

That meant Astarion almost didn’t get up from his chair when he heard the knock on the great wooden doors to the library at close to noon. 

He was deeply engrossed in his book and assumed it was nothing more than a bird slamming into the bricks outside until the knocks started up again more frantic this time. He set his book facedown with a sigh. “Yes?” 

“Lord Ancunin?” A voice squeaked on the other side. 

Astarion rolled his eyes for the benefit of absolutely no one but himself. “Get on with it, Johan. I’m reading.” 

“You have a visitor and she isn’t taking no for an answer,”

Now that was curious. 

The vampire stood from his chair, finding one of the mirrors hung on the wall between bookshelves to primp in slightly. He hadn’t scheduled any appointments. It was supposed to be a day of rest and relaxation in the busy winter season once he’d finally caught up on planning for the solstice rituals and parties. Who in their right mind would just waltz up to a noble's door without an invitation and demand an audience at a time like this? Something tugged uncomfortably in his chest. 

Astarion knew exactly who would do something like that. 

“Alright,” he huffed, adjusting the ruffled collar of his shirt. “Send her in,” 

When Johan opened the door Astarion knew he wouldn’t find what he was waiting for. He hadn’t let himself hope. Still, he was pleasantly surprised to see Shadowheart waiting beside his cowering spawn, her traveling cloak still on and soaked from the snow. 

“Shadowheart!” He called. Crossing the room, he opened his arms to her. “It’s been ages. What has it been, 5 years since we slaughtered Orin together? Have you finally come to get the grand tour?” 

The cleric lowered her hood revealing furious fire in her green eyes. “No time for a tour today, Astarion. This is about Tav,” 

Johan winced slightly at the sound of her name. 

Astarion’s welcoming smile fell. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to say about that. I haven’t seen Tav since the Netherbrain fell.” He stopped a few feet before her, maintaining enough distance to make sure he wouldn’t do anything rash if he lost his temper. He wasn’t that man anymore. He would remove the temptation before it gave him a chance to react.

Despite everything he told himself, his throat still itched when Shadowheart closed the space between them. “Still a liar, I see,” She laughed. 

The room chilled suddenly, the fire in the hearth getting suspiciously dim as Astarion’s eyes flickered in the low light. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not going to deal with you,” Shadowheart threw her hands up, backing up from the vampire and tossing a small red envelope at his slippered feet. “I came here as a courtesy, Astarion, because I made the mistake of believing you were better than this. Wyll and Karlach are coming for you. They found Tav.” 

And just like that the building rage disappeared. The fireplace extinguished itself, plunging the room into relative darkness beside the rays of midday sunlight that filtered in from the skylight above. “Where?” 

“Don’t play dumb!” Her platinum braid swung wildly as she pointed an accusatory finger at the vampire. “I knew you’d changed after you completed the ritual, but Raphael? Really? That’s low even for you.”

Astarion looked through her like she wasn’t even there. “Is she alive?” His voice was trembling. The lord was not accustomed to feeling fear, he swore when the netherbrain fell that he would never be afraid again, and yet here he was, gripping the back of his reading chair to stay upright as he doubled over with nausea. “Shadowheart.” He looked up at her and found fear in her eyes too, wet and all too mortal. “I need you to tell me if she’s alive,” 

“You didn’t do it?” 

“Shadowheart!” 

She nodded and that was all he needed. 

“Johan!” Astarion snapped, pushing past Shadowheart, “I need you to contact the Devil’s Fee. Tell Helsik I’m calling in my favor,” He was halfway down the hall before he turned back to find Shadowheart still standing in the doorway. “Are you coming or not?” The cleric was quick to follow then as he made a beeline for the armory.

He had failed Tav once. If he had even the slightest chance of righting that wrong, he couldn’t hesitate, even if that meant killing the devil himself. 

It was the least he could do to repay her.  

-----------

(A/N: Thank you so much for making it so far into this insanity!!! This chapter was insanely difficult for me to write, but it was more important for me to get words on the page than to get them perfect. I hope it reads at least semi-well and the insanity seemed purposeful, because it was lol, Tav is having maybe a lil bit of a breakdown.

Thank you also to every single beautiful human who has left a comment, bookmark, kudos, or even took the time to just read my fic. I suffered a traumatic brain injury in late 2022 and I genuinely thought I'd never be able to write fics I people enjoyed again. I was terrified to start writing only to realize I wasn't any good anymore. I couldn't be more grateful to you all for proving me wrong. You've given me back my voice, my art, and my passion in a way I never expected to have them again.

Again, I hope you enjoyed the chapter <3 I can't wait to keep sharing this story with you.)

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Taglist: @spacer-shepard

[splatooshy]

OC ASK GAME

@crossedsabers10s

👕 4. Does your character have a favorite material they like to wear?

harriet love love LOVES chiffon. she has two dresses with chiffon overskirts and they are her absolute favourites, only to be worn on the most special of occasions. also chiffon hair ribbons for everyday use. she also scavenges for fabric offcuts to use as hair ribbons & hat bands.

otherwise, silk and satin are good substitutes. basically anything that isn’t velvet. hattie HATES velvet.

in 1860, harriet becomes very fascinated with denim, but has no true need for it, being a founding daughter and all. that doesn’t stop her, though. it’s a shame she’s born too early for the world war housewife girlboss ‘we can do it’ era.

👕 6. How much interest does your character take in trends?

oh hattie is all over the latest trends. she considers herself a trendsetter of the highest order. those who know her would say otherwise, as she certainly keeps up with trends, but isn’t necessarily ahead of the curve by any means. her expert opinion is often used to insult george, who can barely tell a morning coat from a scarf.

🎲 2. Does your character have any secret hobbies?

thing is, harriet has an innate need to talk about herself. nothing is ever truly secret because she HAS to tell somebody - damon, most likely, or george (occasionally. it’s not very fun having your brother know everything about you, okay?)

but her three favourite hobbies are gossiping, people watching, and looking at herself in the mirror. the last one would be a secret, but george caught her in the act.

find the questions here!

[goetia-girl-in-wonderland]

Ao3 going down gave me enough spite to start writing Zelda and her baby bro Ted going through Twisted Wonderland.

First draft, written at 12am. If you like where this is going, let me know and I might take this further/publish this on Ao3

A Himbo and A Goth

The sound of clattering hooves charging towards them was the last thing they heard, and two large black carriages, pulled by two large black horses, was all they saw before falling unconscious.

Zelda woke up first and was met with darkness, groaning as she cradled her head, the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes. Focusing her proprioception, she realised she was unharmed and upright. “Ok, not in a hospital, so where am I?” she whispered, reaching forward and hitting a barrier of silk, or possibly satin.

She frowned and pushed on the barrier. It felt stuck, not solid. Wiggling around she moved her feet up the barrier and in line with her hips, bracing her hands and back against whatever it was, exactly, behind her and pushed with all her strength and a good amount of physics.

BANG!

The barrier in front of her went flying, and she tumbled to the floor, temporarily blinded by sudden light. “Ow, fuck,fuck, ow” grumbling, she slowly gathered herself and finally took in her surroundings. The room was huge, with tall gothic style windows lining the walls, and large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Rows of seating were set up behind the large glowing fountain in front of her, and behind herself, she noticed an ornate, floating, full length mirror, which was surrounded by intricate, similarly floating, coffins… like the one she just fell out of.

“Ok, kinda dope, but where’s–”

Ted woke up next, met with darkness and plush silken fabric surrounding him, though a little more snug than Zelda. “Ah! Was I taken to hospital? Did they think I died? Am I in the place they keep corpses?!” Heart racing, he began to wiggle in mild panic before noticing something, “Huh, this doesn’t feel like what I was wearing, or a hospital gown. It feels way too nice… Do they change bodies into fancy clothes now?”

It was then Ted finally noticed the sounds coming from outside his comfy corpse box.

“-Gnya, your clothes aren’t right, anyway! I need to find a uniform before someone else finds me!..... Urgggh, this lid weighs a ton! Try this on for size, Mya-ha!”

A burst of heat and bright blue flames burst open the box, causing Ted to let out a shout of surprise, as his eyes adjusted to the sight of a cat standing upright on their hind legs, and his sister shielding her face and standing behind the cat.

Zelda was wearing something different from the last he remembered, it looked like some kind of two tiered black dress with purple lining, and gold filigree accents on the sleeves and hood, black stockings and, those were definitely not her normal shoes.

“Now to grab the goods… What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake yet?!” The cat screeched at him.

The cat talked…

“Y-you talk?! You’re a talking cat?!” Ted squished as far as he could back into the corpse box…. Coffin, actually, as he noticed many more of them floating around him.

“How DARE you! I’m no cat! I’m Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!” The cat, no, Grim, hissed out, “Tch, whatever. You, human, give me your uniform, and be quick about it! ‘Cause if you don’t… You’re gonna regret it!”

Ted looked down and realised he was wearing the same outfit as Zelda, albeit with pants instead of stockings. Looking back up at Zelda, wide eyed and thoroughly confused, she shrugged back at him, equally confused and concerned.

“C’mon! I’m on a tight schedule here!” Grim hissed, spitting out copious amounts of blue fire. Ted let out a yelp and jumped out of the coffin, Zelda rushing forward and grabbing his hand, dragging him out of the way of further harm.

“Run!” She ordered, still holding tightly onto his hand as they both began sprinting for the door and out of the room.

They ran through the halls, occasionally pulling each other down a different path, trying to lose the pyro-cat-creature. They passed by various rooms that looked remarkably similar to each other, through a courtyard with a well, back into more confusing hallways, before Ted pulled Zelda into a room with a massive, and slightly heavy door.

“Zel, what’s going on?” Ted panted, catching his breath through the rush of adrenaline.

“Don’t know… Just as in the dark as you… No pun intended.” Zelda gave him an apologetic half smile, as she was bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

Ted looked up, realising what room they ran into as he took in the towering rows of shelves, crammed full of all kinds of books. “Hey, look. We found a library.”

Zelda finally straightened up, pushing her long lavender hair over her shoulder, and taking in the sight before her. “Ted… are those books… floating?”

“Huh?” Looking up, there were indeed books hanging in midair, as well as globes that presumably lit up for light. Looking more upward, they saw the library had multiple levels, with even more books in even more shelves.

Carefully walking forward in the low light, they began to wander through the rows, trying to pick out any words on the spines of books that might clue them in to their current situation.

As they continued, Zelda took strange notice of one particular book. It seemed fairly unassuming, but something about it called to her. She tried to make out the title on the spine through the low light. “A…rs… Go…e…-”

Blue flames erupted around them, forcing them closer together. Ted put his arm protectively around Zelda’s shoulders, tucking her head under his as he tried to shield her from the flames.

“Foolish humans! Did you really think you could slip away from ME?” The cat-creature-Grim caught up to them, “Now, unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that-”

CRACK

A whip snapped through the air and struck Grim, ensnaring him and cutting him off. “Ma-YEOW! That hurt! What gives?” Grim yoweled.

“Consider it tough love.” A deep, older voice called out, “Ah, I’ve found you at last. Splendid! I trust you two are some of this year’s new students? My, were you ever eager to make your debuts.”

A tall man in a crow mask and top hat stepped forward. Wearing a cloak with black feathers and an ornate collar, over an embroidered vest, with garish gold decorations adorning him at various points, he made quite the impression on Ted and Zelda.

“And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That's a clear violation of the school rules.”

Zelda and Ted looked at each other, eyebrows raised, then back to the crow man.

“As if I’d serve some lowly human! Now lemme go!” Grim hissed and wiggled as he was picked up by crow man, glaring daggers at the siblings.

“Yes, yes, rebellious familiars always say that. Do be quiet for a bit, won’t you?” Crow man airily dismissed Grim, gagging him with more loops of his whip, while Grim heavily squirmed in muffled protest. Zelda and Ted remained still, slightly stunned by the turn of events. Crow man just continued on, either unaware of their confusion, or uncaring.

“Dear me, of all the students I’ve dealt with, you two are the first with temerity enough to open your own gate and step out of it. Does the very notion of patience elude you? No matter, your orientation has already begun. Let us return to the mirror chamber.”

Zelda recovered first, stepping forward, out of Ted’s protective cuddle. “Wait, what do you mean gate?” She kept her tone firm but level, pushing down her unease. Ted, behind her, reached forward and gripped the back of her outfit.

“What do you mean students?” He asked, voice slightly wavering.

“You awakened in a room full of gates, did you not? All of the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although, typically the students have restraint enough to wait until I open them before waking up.” Crow man folded his arms, looking distinctly put out.

“I think something blew the lid off mine.” Ted stated meekly, his shoulder length, blond hair curtaining his face, as he crouched slightly to try and hide behind Zelda. A fool’s errand, since he was much taller than her, and also had rather large muscles, compared to Zelda’s much shorter, albeit curvy frame.

“The culprit appears to be that familiar of yours. You’re the one who insisted on bringing it, so curtailing its behaviour is your responsibility! But now is not the time for such prattle. You’ve a student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste.” Crow man, once again, rambled past them. He began to circle them and make vague shooing motions with his hand, but Zelda stood firm between him and Ted.

“First, just tell us one thing: Where are we?” Holding a firm voice and a firm glare, she reached behind her to hold Ted’s softly shaking hand.

“Hm? Have you not fully regained consciousness? The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories… Well, these things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my magnanimity is boundless.” He began herding them with his hand, the other still holding a bound Grim. Zelda reluctantly conceded, but maintained herself between Crow man and Ted.

As the siblings were herded back the way they came, through the halls and out into the courtyard, crow man began explaining. “This is Night Raven College. It is an institution for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic.” Ted briefly glances at Zelda, who is still glaring at crow man. “It is the most prestigious academy of its sort in all of Twisted Wonderland. And I am Dire Crowley. Having been entrusted with its care by the chairman, I serve as headmage.”

“What do you mean by magic?” Ted asked softly. Crow man Crowley continued, peering at them sideways while they continued to walk.

“Only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college. Those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those ‘gates,’ which can appear anywhere. A couple black carriages bearing such gates should have come to meet you two.”

At this, the siblings turned to look at each other. They knew they both remembered two black carriages pulled by dark horses, right before they woke up in the coffins. “Not sure meeting is the right word, but we do remember black carriages, yes.” Zelda replied defensively, returning her hard gaze to crow man Crowley.

“That black carriage serves to receive a student chosen by the Dark Mirror. It too bears a gate that connects to this campus. And as you know, sending a carriage to meet someone on their special day is a time-honoured tradition.” He smiled proudly.

Ted looked to Zelda confusedly, “A time-honoured tradition where?”.

“I mean, it was kinda done, but certainly not since cars and motor vehicles became widely available.” She shrugged, “Wait, we were dragged here against our will by those carriages!”

Grim suddenly began struggling again, squirming in his bonds and making muffled hisses and noises. It seemed like he had something to say, but crow man Crowley pointedly ignored him. “Now, let us attend your orientation.” He gestured to the door in front of him. They finally made it back to the Mirror Chamber.

[voxxisms]

@relicta-amans found a journal belonging to VOX ! ;; accepting! send 🗒️ for a diary entry my muse would make/has made.

MARCH 19, 2003

— fucking valentino has been on my ass again about what he wants to do with the studio, to revamp it. i keep trying to tell him that we can do satin, but he insists so heavily on all silk, && i swear that someday i will blow a part just from the sheer frustration of it all. i try to be as pleasant as i can, as reasonable as i can be. if we keep stocking up on only the most expensive cloths, we'll run out of budget faster than he can put out the less worthwhile ones that keep it going.

— we get into fights all the time these days, i try to keep him calm as i can, but it isn't the easiest thing to keep up with. if i didn't have patience before, i'm sure as hell learning it now. the man is a crash course in it all on his own.

— yesterday, he got pissed about some actor or other refusing part of his script. i got called to handle the situation, of course, but while i tried to work it out, he pushed me aside && the edge of my fucking display caught on something. it's all cracked now, he fucking laughed about it, too. he's damned lucky i didn't dock something from his pay.

— ... who am i kidding? it doesn't really fucking matter. his company, && velvette's, matter too much. they could toss me around like a toy && it would change nothing. i need them here.

— i wonder what he's doing today. we haven't spoken in quite some time. things are tense, && i can't tell exactly why. i know i'm busy, but i can make time. maybe i should. i'll call him. he doesn't answer at our old place, it makes sense that he moved eventually, too. i can get ahold of the number there.

— ... no. i should use the frequency. it's been so quiet, these days. it's a little sad. i should reach out, i should make more of an effort to keep up, i'm doing so much to try to impress but i'm barely even asking if it is. he seems dissatisfied when we do talk about it, so i must need to do better, but ...

— i'll ask him to a lunch for tomorrow. i can cancel the meetings between noon and two. make sure i'm available. yes. i'll do that.

[aniharas]

𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧

pairing: ceo!miguel o'hara x singer!fem!reader

summary: you, a famed singer living in a lavish penthouse, are preparing for an afterparty when you get distracted by your ceo neighbor, miguel, looking fine on his balcony across from yours. it would be stupid of you to not to strike up a conversation.

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, use of cigarettes and alcohol (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 8.7k+ oneshot

a/n: today i am dutifully fulfilling the wishes of @cantchoosejust1 with her lovely request: "glad u have ur inbox open cause boy howdy do I have ideas ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I like to picture more of a "normal au" like neighbors to lovers; He's some bum-looking CEO and we're, idk, a famous singer or something; Lyla's always over cause she's his assistant so she befriends us to relay that info to shy Miguel; we almost always see each other in the elevator or both chilling on our balconies coincidentally at the same time and not because he memorized our routine-- one late night, we both come back from separate parties tired as hell but sober (I'm not one to get drunk); each in our party getups, hair tussled, his tie undone and our dress straps hanging off our shoulders; this time we work up the courage to invite him over to chill and talk and maybe end up in a heated make out session" i changed up a few things but i think it still captures the concept pretty well! also inspired by my lovely miss ava's (justadmiringanakin) ceo!anakin concept. literally so obsessed. also s/o kimmy draws on twitter for miguel o'hara in a suit and tie. thank u, we need more. anyways, hope you all enjoy and as always inbox is open for prompts for drabbles or fics :)

Fresh out of the shower and wrapped up in your favorite silk robe, you stood in front of your spacious walk-in closet, sighing as you contemplated what expensive outfit you were to wear this time to yet another afterparty. You had just gotten home after, thankfully, receiving two awards for your most recent album, but you were more excited to lay in bed more than anything. Unfortunately, your PR team had blown up your phone about “keeping up appearances with the paps”, so there was a slight drag in your steps as you scoured your closet, the plush carpet feeling like rocks under your tired feet. Truthfully, you wish you were never invited, but with being such a high-profile singer and an award-winner, the invitation from a friend who was also hosting was inevitable.

As you finally sifted through what had seemed like thousands of possible outfits, you finally settled on one, a black and baby pink corset top with a matching mini skirt. After laying it out carefully on your bed, you texted your assistant a picture.

You: hi do u mind picking out some matching shoes for this number? 

You: [picture]

Julia: You have dozens of shoes, boots, and heels that match this color already.

You: yeah but none of them fit the vibe tho. Please?

Julia: As you wish. It’s not my fault if this makes you late.

Sitting down at the foot of your satin-covered king bed, you set down your phone, smiling to yourself. That was why you liked Julia as your assistant, she always did her best to keep you grounded…with varying degrees of success. But if your life was now this lavish, who were you to deny yourself the pleasure? 

As you waited for her return, you snatched the remote that had fallen off the side of your bed, about to rewatch an episode of your favorite dating reality show until you caught a glimpse of something through your windowed balcony. You could make out your neighbor’s shadow through the curtains of his balcony, pacing back and forth in his room.

There was no possible way that your neighbor was Miguel O’Hara. Maybe he had a twin.

To your knowledge, Miguel O’Hara was the renowned pretty boy Alchemax CEO, a geneticist who pioneered genetic splicing. He had hundreds upon thousands of employees who worked under him, and to say he was rolling in cash was an understatement. He was freestyle swimming in it. He lived in the penthouse-level apartment across from yours, and the glances that your assistant had managed to sneak from his apartment suggested he lived just as lavishly as you, if not, even more so. Crystal chandeliers, velvet chaises and loveseats, and an upgraded kitchen, the latter of which you were most envious of. 

If that was the case, why did he look like…that? 

It’s not that he wasn’t attractive, it was quite the opposite, actually. A built body, broad shoulders, chiseled features, and a face that screamed: “Try to resist me”. And best believe, you had been trying. You had nearly fainted when you caught a glimpse of a sweaty, shirtless Miguel on his balcony out for a smoke.

It was just the way that he seemed to carry himself. Every time you took a glance at him in the elevators, or at your building’s gym, he didn’t dress like he was the most successful CEO under 35. His style was more akin to a college student’s who had left their clothes in the dryer overnight and forgot to fold them. His dark, luscious locks were always ruffled from stress after what had seemed like a long day at work. While his magazine portraits always portrayed his face as clean-shaven, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him once without a 5 o’clock shadow.  

What shocked you the most was his demeanor. In the countless articles you and your assistants have flipped through concerning Miguel or Alchemax when you had first moved in (for your “research”), he exuded this undeniable aura of confidence. His quotes were always firm and concise, and no one dared to question his knowledge or any decision he made with the company. Above it all, he just seemed like your typical Ice King boss with little regard for things outside of his personal interest.

But much like his appearance, he couldn’t be any more different in person. He would hold the elevator door open for you, always politely avoiding eye contact with you during the ride until you expressed interest in talking to him. He’d give a shy wave whenever the both of you caught each other on your balconies, which you noted happened often the more thought you gave to it. There, you’d make some small talk, and he showed genuine interest in the big and little things in your life, from asking about your Grammy nomination to what color you wanted to paint your nails next. A man with good conversation was hard to come by nowadays.

The slightly bummy demeanor he carried wasn’t something you minded at all, it was just so different compared to how he carried himself publicly. After getting so used to reading about stone-cold corporation-titan CEO Miguel O’Hara, it nearly gave you whiplash when you settled in and met your handsome, gentlemanly, friendly neighbor, Miguel.

Lost in your own thoughts, you were caught by surprise as you found yourself still staring at his balcony, only noticing as the stillness of the night was interrupted by his balcony door swinging open. Obviously, it was Miguel, but there was something different about him that rocked you to your core. You sat up straight at the edge of your bed, leaning forward and squinting to further detail what had changed.

It was almost like he had transformed. Gone was the scruffy and casual look that he had usually adorned. Instead, he now wore a perfectly tailored white dress shirt with a black tie that accentuated every contour and crevice of his muscular build. You knew he was built, but you had never seen it in this amount of detail. His hair was now neatly styled, slicked back neatly yet still maintaining a casual look. And his face, god, his face, cleanly shaven, his skin glistening in the moonlight.

You never thought you would get the chance to see the Mr. O’Hara that was plastered all over newspapers and billboards, and now, you figured that those photographers could never do him justice. He was like a sculpture of a Greek deity, something you could only appreciate in person…and up close. Maybe that was the reason you stood from your bed, easily ditching the show you had turned on as you pushed open the doors to your balcony eagerly. You slightly regretted the decision as a gust of the winter breeze of New York immediately pierced through your silk robe and into your skin, chilling you to your bone. But you were intent on pushing through to get a chance to talk to Miguel, hastily wrapping the robe tighter around your body as you fought the urge to chatter your teeth.

As you continued to watch, you noticed that Miguel hadn’t noticed you yet, much to your chagrin. Your eyes carefully followed every movement of his, curious as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, the stick dangling from the corner of his mouth. Of course, you weren’t too large on smoking, having a renowned vocal prowess after all, but something about the sight of your hot, CEO neighbor carelessly blowing out smoke spurred something on inside of you.

“I thought you said you’d stop,” you called out with a smirk on your face, your voice barely louder than the hustle and bustle of the streets around your complex.

Miguel, startled, jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, head whipping towards you so fast that his cigarette nearly fell from his mouth. Getting over his initial shock, his face resigned to an amused expression, taking a drag before taking the stick from his mouth.

“I…did say that, huh?” he admitted as smoke emanated from his lips, shrugging once as he moved closer to the edge of the balcony. “Caught me on a bad night, I guess.”

You chuckled, the chilly breeze instantly forgotten upon the sound of his gruff, yet friendly voice. “Your secret’s safe with me, O’Hara. But you know it’s bad for you.”

Miguel leaned forward against the railing, eyes rolling once before they fixated on you. “I should’ve expected the world-star singer to lecture me on smoking,” he teased, resulting in your cheeks growing hot again; it seemed he always had that effect on you. Taking one more deep inhale from his cigarette, he tapped out the smolders and tossed it onto an ashtray on his balcony table. “But I’ll happily stop for you.”

Who knew such a simple statement could send shivers down your spine?

Copying his stance, you leaned against your balcony railing, forearm resting atop it as you found yourself easing into conversation. “You fix up well. What’s the occasion? Who’s the lucky girl?” you interrogated, raising a teasing eyebrow. Although you were poking fun at him, you secretly hoped that this wasn’t him preparing for a date.

Miguel’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Jeez, am I just sloppy around here? Is the change that noticeable?” he asked as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hard to miss,” you replied, suppressing a giggle. “Care to share what’s got you so dolled up?”

He exhaled a sigh, his breath turning into a misty cloud as he gazed off into the city. “No girls. Some stupid party I’m required to go to. Make connections, keep up appearances. Just some bullshit.”

You tilted your head in thought, a knowing expression lingering on your face. It was no surprise Miguel had to suffer the dreadful experiences of the media just like you did, and oddly, it seems to pull you closer to him. “I’m right there with you tonight, but you’ll be fine. I know for a fact you’re better at this…media circus stuff than me.”

One of Miguel’s brows perked up in intrigue, his posture straightening out as he finally took a good look at you, eyes raking over your figure. You suddenly felt a bit immodest, having come out in full glam, yet with only a silk robe that barely left anything about your curves to the imagination. You watched as his eyes snapped back up to yours after a few moments, seeming to be at a loss for words.

“Right, uh…” he began, swallowing deeply. “You look really…uh– pretty tonight.” He pushed his long, thick fingers through his hair, and you tried your best not to visibly react. “Where are you headed?”

You groaned at the thought of your obligations later that night, rolling your eyes as you rested your head against your hand. “Grammy’s afterparty. PR says it’s mandatory, you know the deal. So unfair,” you grumbled childishly, tracing along the intricate details of the metal railing with your free hand.

Though a brief laugh escaped his lips, you saw his eyes soften, a hint of sympathy glistening in them. “Red carpet’s not as glamorous as it seems, hm?”

You nodded eagerly in response, grateful that he understood. From all the fake friends, media outlets looking to make a quick buck, scummy record labels, to predatory men in the industry,  having to navigate through all of that and still retain your sanity was difficult. Sure, you had enough money to last you and your family 10 lifetimes over and the last thing you would do is complain, but you just wished that it would get easier over time. So far, it hasn’t.

“At least you look glamorous in your robe,” Miguel said after a while, grinning as he motioned to your robe. “Which, by the way, I hope you aren’t wearing to your party. It’s very cold.”

A fit of laughter erupted from your chest, causing you to cover your mouth as you smoothed out the silkiness of your robe. “God, Miguel, of course not. I have something way nicer that would make me way colder.”

“Hm, I don’t know…that getup of yours might be hard to beat.” Miguel’s eyes seemed to shift, shining with curiosity. Your thighs rubbed together at the beginnings of his playful smile. “Indulge me,” he implored.

You scoffed, although unable to fight the rush of excitement that filled your body. “Just you wait,” you called as you disappeared back into your apartment, swiftly shutting the doors and yanking the curtains closed. Your heart pounded as you fumbled with the ribbon of your silk robe, the texture caressing your skin as it fell to the floor.

Eagerly, you lunged for the outfit that laid across your bed, your fingers clutching onto the cold, black fabric as you hastily slid on the corset. You desperately tugged at the pink corset strings that cascaded down your back, but you could only tighten it so much. Impatient, you decided to ditch tying it up all the way, conceding that it accentuated your curves enough.

Putting on your matching skirt, you pulled it up just far enough to barely cover your behind, showing off your legs in a way that would most certainly get you kicked out from a church. You spared a glance at yourself in the middle, not quite satisfied yet as your eyes dropped to your chest. Your hands came up to readjust your cleavage in your top with a quick tug to the fabric barely covering it, and it was only then that you were satisfied. The way your outfit hugged and exposed all the right spots was sure to make this one of your sexier looks. 

But you knew that you didn’t need to do much to look jaw-dropping. You were a natural at the red carpet, and everything you wore seemed to kickstart trends across the country. Any style you could’ve chosen would have anyone fawning over you at the party.

Yet, all you wanted was to impress the guy smoking on his balcony across from you.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the doors to your balcony back open. The fiery nature of your outfit somehow combatted the frosty air that nipped at where your skin was exposed, which was most of your body. Miguel was still leaning against his railing, distracted by the city lights from afar. His eyes darted in your direction as he heard the soft rustle of your movements, and it didn’t take long before they widened in shock.

“So? How’s it look?” you asked, holding your breath in anticipation.

You could practically feel his eyes traveling up and down your body, particularly your chest and your sleek legs. His jaw slackened just a bit before he caught himself, a wry smile forming as he fixed his gaze back onto yours.

“Damn,” he remarked, voice gravelly. “You weren’t kidding. Feeling inclined to accompany you to your party.”

For a moment, just a fleeting one, you imagined what it would be like to have your dreamy neighbor as your plus one. You, faithfully clinging to his arm as he’d effortlessly lead you through swarming crowds, the both of you dancing with little to no room for Jesus. You wondered what the mix of his sweat and cologne would smell like. Ambitious thinking, you conceded, but so addictive.

“By all means, Mr. O’Hara, you’re more than welcome to,” you offered hopefully.

Miguel’s eyes fixated on your bare shoulders, his gaze darkening briefly. Breaking himself out of his reverie, he let out a sigh. “Had it been any other night, I would’ve been all yours. But tonight is unfortunately an important one for me,” he explained apologetically, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

You weren’t aware of how dramatically your shoulders dropped in disappointment until Miguel snorted out of amusement.

“Don’t look so pouty, now,” he teased. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

I’ll make it up to you. Your disheartened feelings were quickly dispelled as his words hung the air. As the countless possibilities played in your mind, a soft giggle left your lips. “And how would you do that?”

“You name it, linda.”

You knew that he was bilingual, it was one of the first things you discovered about him; yet you had never heard him speak his other language until then. You hated how it rolled off his tongue so smoothly, nearly turning your legs into jelly. How could someone render you so helpless from a mere compliment? You knew you could have him if you asked. You weren’t necessarily a stranger to hookups, a mere bat of your eyelashes and a pout usually did the trick.

But something stopped you. Why was flirting with him so nerve-racking? You barely could stand in front of him now without feeling your heartbeat in your ears. Were you scared of being too forward?

“Well…” you began, fiddling with the strings of your corset. “My assistant’s gone out to get something for me. I might need help with my top here,” you suggested shyly, shifting your body so that Miguel could have a clear view of the partial doneness of your top.

Just out of your peripherals, you saw Miguel’s eyes lingering on the exposed skin, his neck tensing as he seemed to hesitate to answer. Or maybe he was holding himself back. A second passed, the silence broken by the abrupt sound of him clearing his throat.

“Sure, I got a bit of time before I go. No promises I’ll do a good job, though,” Miguel said as his gaze returned to yours, never once leaving it. His eyes seemed to shine in the most mischievous way under the moon, making it hard for you to keep looking back.

Flashing a sly smile, you began to retreat through the balcony doors. “Don’t keep me waiting!” you shouted before closing the doors behind you and drawing the curtains.

You couldn’t help but pace around your flat in your fuzzy slippers anxiously, each step leaving a thud that rang like a drum in your ears. Had you bitten off more than you could chew? Sure, it was one thing to flirt aimlessly, but to invite him over? What were you going to do after he tied up your corset? Did you even have some sort of plan?

The soft, custom chime of your doorbell cut through the whirlwind of your thoughts, causing you to nearly stumble over yourself as you rushed to your door. Just as you were about to place your hand on the doorknob, you took a moment to adjust your hair, smoothing your fingers through the ends to ensure not a single tuft or strand was out of place. 

Inhaling deeply, you braced yourself as you pulled open the door to reveal the eye candy that was your neighbor. If you had thought he had looked good from across your balconies, he was absolutely divine up close. You swore you felt your hand twitch as you resisted the urge to squeeze his bicep that was so tantalizingly covered by his sharp attire; you couldn’t help but feel jealous of his shirt. A glint of gold peeked out from just beneath his collar, something you hadn’t noticed before. The outlines of a golden chain poked out from under the expensive fabric of his dress shirt, not the large ones you found a bit too obnoxious for your taste, but a small, modest one that complimented his complexion and the outlines of his collarbone.

“Please– come in,” you managed to get out in your rather obvious ogling, stepping aside hurriedly as you ushered him inside. Miguel seemed to find your reaction rather amusing, a brief smile on his lips as he made his way into your home. 

“Your place feels a lot less suffocating than mine,” he remarked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“How? We live in the same type of penthouse.”

Miguel shrugged, and it looked like he was a bit more shy to meet your eyes now that you were so close. “Maybe it’s just because it’s lonely.”

I could fix that, you were basically dying to say. You bit your lip, adjusting your hair to one shoulder so your backside was exposed. Seeing this, Miguel snapped out of whatever reverie he was in, mumbling “right” to himself before approaching you.

Moving to stand by one of your hand-crafted pillars that decorated your living room, you placed your palms up against them, fingers latching onto them tightly.

Standing behind you, Miguel seemed to falter slightly as he began to reach for the strings. “Hey. ¿Estás bien?”

Truthfully, you weren’t okay. The positions you were both in, despite being innocent in nature, felt so provocative. You were hoping that Miguel didn’t see it this way…but if he didn’t mind, you didn’t mind either. “Mhm. Why?”

“You losing your balance or something?”

Turning your head, you gave Miguel a pointed look. “I know you’re pretty strong, Miguel. I’m going to end up on my ass if I don’t do this,” you joked, although you knew it was likely.

“If you say so.”

And so, Miguel began to work with the strings. Despite being large, his fingers seemed to expertly weave each string to its designated grommet, and the way they just barely grazed against your skin left you breathless. The both of you were dead silent, and it wouldn’t have been awkward had it not been for the palpable tension rising between you. Miguel finally ended up speaking first after partially completing one section, leaning in.

“Let me know if it’s too tight,” he said, his low voice reverberating through your body as his breath brushed against your ear. You froze in place, and you could barely manage a nod.

As he yanked at the strings, there was barely any breath to knock out of you. You squirmed at the subtle cinch around your waist, though your uneasiness was quickly overshadowed by your awe of how strong he was. Once again, not another word was spoken between the both of you, the only sounds being the strings being woven and tightened and the groans of discomfort that involuntarily left your lips.

Eventually, Miguel secured the final knot, letting out a relieved sigh as if this was his most daunting task to date. You felt his warm hand on your shoulder, gently pulling at it to make you face him. Though his brows were furrowed in concern, there seemed to be another feeling hidden in his eyes, you just weren’t sure what it was.

“Does it feel okay?” he asked tenderly, his hand smoothing down your arm before letting go. You wished he didn’t let go.

“It’s as perfect as it can be,” you admitted, your hands coming up to feel around your waist. “Beauty is pain, I guess.”

Miguel then slowly out to take your hand in his. Bringing it up to his lips, he pressed his lips to the back of it gently, his eyes never once leaving yours. “Te ves muy bella esta noche.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your body heating up from how intensely your heart pounded in your chest. “And that means?”

He flashed his stupidly charming grin, his thumbs delicately tracing over your knuckles before returning your hand to your side and taking a step forward. “Let’s just say I hope that you have painkillers.”

How did your dorky neighbor know how to clean up and be such a smooth talker?

You couldn’t help but let out a scoff to ease your nerves and regain some of your composure, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What, you think I’d need some Advil?”

“I was thinking more like morphine,” Miguel quipped with an unforgettable smirk.

You couldn’t help the shy smile that graced your lips. “I’m sure you could whip something up for me in your lab,” you replied, staring up at him through your mascara-coated lashes. Since when were the both of you so close? You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it left you wondering how nice it would feel to have his warm skin against yours.

Just as it seemed he was about to give another one of his witty remarks, a small yet sharp ping emanated from the smartwatch that sat delicately on his wrist. He took a step back, glancing down at it. “Mierda– as much as I’d love to continue charming you with painkillers, I’ve gotta head out. Duty calls, unfortunately,” he said, a sigh shortly following the interruption.

You nodded, trying not to let your immediate disappointment show on your face as you also took a step back. As you began to escort Miguel towards the door, you placed your hand tentatively on his arm as you walked side by side. “Unfortunately indeed. I’m already late to mine, but I can’t leave yet,” you lamented.

Miguel raised a brow at you as he reached for your doorknob. “Why not?” he asked, swinging the door open gently.

You groaned, taking out your phone to check for any updates. None. “It’s because I’m waiting for my assistant to come back. She’s out looking for heels for me to wear tonight.”

He grinned, a playful look in his eyes. “And there’s no suitable ones in your walk-in closet?” he teased, leaning against your doorframe.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting something new! Let me live,” you retorted, giving him a roll of your eyes.

Miguel paused, his brows creased as he bit the inside of his cheek, staring off into the distance behind you. After taking a few moments to mull whatever it was over, he propped himself up against the frame with his arm, clearing his throat.

“So where do you think she’d be shopping at?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but think how strange of a question it was, not particularly expecting someone like Miguel to care about that sort of thing. But you were intrigued nonetheless. “Beats me. Rough guess is the Louboutin store closest to Central Park,” you shrugged.

Miguel, continuing his thoughtful demeanor, gave a nod as he pushed himself off the door. “Good luck with that. Customer service takes a long time over there,” he warned. “Can’t really get a move on unless you pull some strings.”

You huffed, taking your turn to lean against the frame, hesitant to see Miguel off. “I’ll manage, Mr. O’Hara. Promise.”

Giving that sickly sweet smile of his, he leaned in closer to you, a chastising but mischievous glint in his eye. Bringing his hands up level with your chest, he reached to adjust a pink bow sat just in the middle of the bust of your corset, having previously been knocked astray with the hurried commotion of putting it on. You involuntarily shivered at the contact, making you stand straight up. Any hope of saying anything in response was knocked out of you.

“Don’t keep them waiting. I better see pap photos of you plastered all over the internet in that getup first thing in the morning,” Miguel murmured, his lips so unbearably close to yours, you weren’t sure if you could resist. Just as you felt yourself gravitating forward, he pulled back, eyes lingering on your features. If his eyes seemed subtle before, they definitely weren’t now. They flickered with such intensity, and it had you thinking about how much he was holding back.

“But you could be seeing the real thing instead,” you managed to say, breathless as you tried to steady your voice. Your hands instinctively went to play with the hems of your skirt in your nervousness. God, did you really just say that?

A small smile graced his lips as he pulled back. “I might just hold you to that.”

With that, he turned, his strides calm and collected as he walked down your hallway. As you fixated on his figure growing smaller and smaller, you noticed that he brought up his watch close to his mouth, murmuring something under his breath. The faint sound of someone speaking back to him graced your ears, but it grew more incomprehensible as he turned a corner. Just CEO things, you presumed.

As you shut your door, you stood there, dazed with a heartbeat that still seemed to overtake your ears. Even though you and Miguel had done virtually nothing together, your encounter with him was more electrifying than any other date you’ve had. And more arousing than any other hookup.

You hoped that this wouldn’t be the last you saw of your enigmatic neighbor tonight.

–

An hour passed, and you were sitting in the plush cushions of your couch, occasionally letting out an impatient huff. Where the hell was Julia? At this point, you were so hilariously late to this party, you weren’t even sure you wanted to go anymore. Your PR team blowing up your messages didn’t necessarily help your enthusiasm either. 

Just as you were about to put your phone on “Do Not Disturb”, an incoming call from Julia overtook your phone, as if on cue. With a mix of relief and frustration, you answered.

“Julia! Where are you?” you complained, letting your phone rest in the crook of your neck.

“Almost there. Traffic is abhorrent at the moment, so that’s not helping,” Julia stated before taking a pause. “But that’s not even the beginning of why I’m late. You’ll never guess what happened.”

You perked up in surprise, your irritation dissipating. She was never really one for any gossip, always seeming to ignore or have a low tolerance for your nightly one-sided gossip sessions with her. So whatever she had to say had to be important. “Finally! Spill.”

“I had to sort out an issue with your bank while I was at Louboutin,” she began, the ambience of passing cars and honking horns in the background. “Someone’s been trying to hack into your account, so your card was locked.”

Your eyes widened, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach. But before you could say anything, Julia seemed to sense this, interjecting almost immediately.

“But we caught it early, thankfully. I changed all your passwords on my way back,” she explained.

Your mind raced, reminding yourself that Julia would never be late unless it was serious. You were forever grateful for her. But something nagged at the back of your mind. “On your way back? How’d you pay for the shoes?” you questioned. “Oh god, Julia, don’t tell me you paid-”

“Relax,” Julia cut in. You could hear the smile on your face. “As much as I enjoy helping you, you know how I feel about your luxury shoes.”

You sighed in relief. “Just making sure. Was it on the house?”

“Nope,” she replied. “This is the crazy part. Just when it seemed like I needed to just put the shoes back, Miss Lyla– you remember Lyla right? Miguel’s assistant?”

You tilted your head at the mention of Lyla, pleasantly surprised. You knew Julia had befriended Lyla after bumping into each other one too many times, so she occasionally dropped by your flat to say hi and chat while Miguel was away. She had a bubbly personality, a stark contrast to Julia, which you found ironic.

When Miguel had gone away on a business trip to São Paulo, she was basically over all the time, and she knew your routine just as well as Julia did. As you thought about this, it made you wonder if she relayed anything about you to her boss. The likelihood of him bumping into you so much didn’t seem so crazy anymore. Although it’s been a bit less than a year since you’ve seen Lyla, you remember her fondly. 

“Of course I remember her. My memory’s not that bad,” you said defensively.

“If it wasn’t that bad, then you wouldn’t have needed me,” Julia wittily quipped. As much as it hurt your ego to admit it, she was right. Per usual.

“Okay okay, whatever. Lyla. What was she doing there?” you asked.

“She just came bursting through the doors, sweaty, out-of-breath, the sort. I had a mind to think that she ran all the way there,” she continued. “Searching around until she saw me. She walked over to me and offered to pay for your shoes. Said Mr. O’Hara wouldn’t mind. She insisted on paying, saying it was a…’neighborly gesture’? I had already caused enough commotion, so I let her.”

Your jaw dropped as you struggled to process the information. Sure, you remembered Miguel asking about the store earlier, but you just chalked it up to small talk. Even though those shoes would be like pocket change to him, you were still shocked. “I didn’t think he’d actually act on it…” you murmured as you leaned back into the couch, mostly to yourself rather than Julia.

“Hm? What does that mean?” she asked, her turn to begin the onslaught of questions. “Did you run into him? Did something finally happen?”

“He just came over to–”

“Came over?!” Julia shrieked into the mic, causing you to wince and pull your phone away from your ear. It was quickly followed by the sound of her clearing her throat. “Apologies. But…what happened?” Once again, the smile was clear in the way that she spoke.

Unable to hide your giddiness, you kicked your feet up onto the coffee table, the apples of your cheeks aching from how much you were smiling. “Since you were out, this damn corset was giving me a hard time, so I had Miguel come over to…tighten it.”

Silence hung on the other end of the line for a moment, and then Julia erupted in laughter, an unfamiliar sound to you, but you noted that this rare side of her was fun. “I’m surprised he wasn’t trying to take it off you.”

Trying to stifle your own laughter, you feigned a frustrated demeanor as you shushed her to no avail, unable to quiet her giggles. “God, it’s not like that! Anyways, he came over to help and we talked for a bit. You know he cleans up really well?”

“Of course. We’ve seen him in the magazines,” she replied cheekily.

“Yeah, I know that! But seeing it in person is so different…th-that’s besides the point,” you stuttered out. “Before he left, I told him about the shoe problem and where you might be.”

“No kidding. Lyla just showed up and pulled out the most luxurious looking black card I’ve ever seen. Didn’t look like any bank I knew, but it swiped with no hitch,” she recounted, a sense of awe lacing her words. “So you’re telling me Miguel O’Hara bought you your ridiculously expensive shoes, and nothing happened?”

Rolling your eyes, you retold the story, not skimping out a single detail. This was the most enthusiastic you had ever heard your assistant being about your tea. “He was a bit shy at first, but it’s like he totally changed tonight. And when he whispered in my ear asking if the corset was too tight, swear to god I was gonna pass out.”

Julia whistled. “And are you just going to leave it at that? Why not accompany him to his party?”

You didn’t know when Julia had been such an advocate of you and Miguel, but when you thought about it, she did often mention stuff about him that Lyla told her. Were they working together? Co-conspirators in this attempt to bring you two together? “Julia, you know how PR would get if I missed this afterparty. Which I’m an hour and a half late to, by the way.”

“Alright, alright. I’m there in five,” she relented. “Make sure you’re ready so you can just get your shoes on and go. You’re going to love them, by the way.” And with that, she hung up.

She was right. The moment Julia stepped through your door, she didn’t hesitate to rush over to you and undo the fancy packaging of the Louboutin box. And there it was, the most beautiful pair of heels you had ever laid eyes on. It was like their signature red-bottoms, but instead of a red hue at the bottom, it was a sleek, baby pink. You had never seen this in your countless hours of online or window shopping, so this had to be rare. You were surprised that Julia had gotten her hands on this, and also how well it matched your outfit. Sliding them on made you feel like you were Cinderella getting ready for a ball instead of some trashy celebrity/influencer party. At least now with the addition of your shoes, you were going to be the belle of the ball. Or the belle of the trashy party.

As you left your penthouse, you couldn’t help but hug Julia gratefully, excited at this new addition to your closet. True to her nature, she gave a brief and unamused hug back, quickly standing you up straight and smoothing out the wrinkles of your coat. “Save that for Mr. O’Hara,” she commented.

“You know?” you began as you slid into the backseat of your chauffeur’s car, scooting over to give space for Julia. “I think I will,” you chirped giddily.

–

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. Blaring music, bright strobe lights, the smell of sweat and alcohol already stenching the air. You knew you were (fashionably) late, but people getting drunk and coked out within the first hour was a new record for you. Julia, having successfully shielded you at the entrance of the club from paparazzi alongside your bodyguards, guided you through the crowd. You tried your best to greet everyone as you maneuvered your way through, though you really just wanted to reach the VIP space where your friend hosting was waiting for you.

Once you reached the section, you immediately spotted Cassie, who was waving you over with a mischievous smile. She looked like she was already a couple shots in, but coherent enough. As you approached, she gave you the one-over, proudly nodding in approval.

“Girl, are those some pink-bottoms?!” she shouted over the music as she reached to take your hands in hers. “You look so good, I’m not going to even get mad that you’re super fucking late!”

You laughed at her antics, giving an excited squeeze to her hands. “You’re never gonna guess who got them for me!”

“Who?!”

You leaned to speak into her ear in a vain attempt to keep it discreet, though you ended up nearly screaming in her ear anyways. “Miguel!”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Cassie blurted out, letting go of your hands to grip you by the shoulders and shake you back and forth in his excitement. “That hot, filthy rich neighbor of yours?!” she asked incredulously, to which you nodded. After the both of you finished your squealing fit, you both sat down on a nearby sofa and recounted the story to her. You treated yourself to a shot of Don Julio and a simple cocktail, not wanting to go too far. You looked too good to be absolutely shitfaced. But it was enough to get you a bit more confident, sharing a couple dances with your friends. Maybe this party wasn’t so bad.

A few hours passed, and you were already a bit too sweaty for comfort. Although you wanted to keep your corset on in the name of fashion, you felt inclined to call it a night just so you could rip it off. It grew more and more suffocating the more you danced and let loose, and you took it as a sign, along with the other sign of your feet screaming out in pain from your heels. At least they were beautiful.

The fatigue began to wash over you all at once, the lively atmosphere growing more and more irritating by the second. You felt bad for wanting to leave early, but Cassie assured you she didn’t mind, knowing you were more of a homebody. After waving goodbye to everyone, you stepped outside with your entourage, greeted by the crisp air of a New York winter night.

As your car whisked you through the city, you just wanted to sleep, but instead, thoughts of Miguel lingered. You wondered how his party was going. Was he more of a party-goer? Were there girls at a business party? Was it called a mixer? Then you remembered him offering to accompany you, the images of the both of you dancing together floating across your mind again. Maybe you could join him, after a short touch-up at your place. Whipping out your phone from your purse, your fingers hovered over the screen, contemplating whether to send a message or not. Maybe you could thank him for the shoes. Upon seeing your last conversation with him, you silently giggled to yourself.

You: thx for setting up my sound system. sry lol i shouldve just waited for julia i feel bad for making u do it

Miguel O’Hara: Nonsense. Was happy to help 👍

You: you text like an old man

Miguel O’Hara: Don’t think it would help my image if I texted like you

You: LMAOOO i wont tell dw

Miguel O’Hara: I’ll consider it

It was only then that you caught a reflection of yourself in the car window, and you physically recoiled. The exhaustion and the remnants of the party were evident – your hair messy and worse for wear, your makeup slightly smudged on one side of your face, sweat and oil making your skin in an unflattering way. You had already partially undone the lacing of your corset to allow room to breathe. Joining him would be an insult in this state, so you let your chauffeur continue your journey back home.

–

It wasn’t long until you found yourself in your building’s lavish elevator, the hum nearly lulling you asleep as it ascended. It was very different from the atmosphere you were in a mere 30 minutes before, so you allowed yourself to enjoy the faint jazz music that played from the overhead speakers. Once the screen displayed your floor number, you took a moment to collect yourself, straightening your posture and doing your best to adjust your disheveled attire.

With a soft chime, the door slid open. You were about to take a tired step forward until someone caught your eye, leaning against the wall of the hallway.

“Partied too hard as well?”

Miguel’s pristine appearance from earlier bore the marks of a night gone wild. His hair was tousled, his necktie partially undone, the collar of his shirt unbuttoned. You smiled to yourself, glad that he allowed himself to have fun, knowing how hard he worked. Yet, just like you, he wasn’t overtly drunk.

“You could say that,” you giggled, the leftover buzz from the party giving you the confidence to look him straight in the eye. “Get any new partnerships?” you asked as you bit your lip.

“Every…single…one,” he drawled with a smirk, his voice as sweet as the cocktail you sipped on earlier. He sauntered towards you, stopping just outside the elevator. “Secured them all early, so I figured I’d just turn in. Got home a little while ago, so I was wondering if you were home too.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, gesturing to yourself. You couldn’t help but return his smirk, though you couldn’t help but feel touched that the first thing he did was try to find you. In return, Miguel bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes raking up and down your figure salaciously.

“And here you are.”

You shuddered at the sound of his rough, whisky-ridden voice taunting you, teasing you. Before you could even begin to think about how to retort, the elevator doors began to close. He swiftly reached out, placing his arm on them, causing them to retract.

“You gonna come with me, nena?” he cooed, reaching forward to take your wrist in his. Although you were silently screaming YES! in your head, you wanted to put up one last fight. Just to see how Miguel would navigate his way into your bedroom.

“Mm, and what makes you think you can take me home tonight?” you challenged, your eyes half-lidded as they traveled down from his face, tracing the muscles that continued to tense in his neck. They dropped to where his shirt was parted, revealing his chest. It glistened slightly with sweat; now you were able to answer what it would smell like with his cologne. It was just as heavenly as you imagined.

He leaned in, his voice just above a whisper. “Why else would you be bragging about me the whole night?” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks as you attempted to maintain your composure. “It’s just the shoes, you know. They’re gorgeous,” you hummed, your heels clicking satisfyingly as you exited the elevator. You elegantly strode past him, making your way toward your door.

“You could say thank you, you know,” he chided, his raspy voice echoing against the walls of the elevator lobby.

“I could. Or you could make me,” you challenged, not bothering to turn once to look at him. Although in reality, it was to hide the mischievous grin on your face.

You could hear a heavy sigh, then the sound of his heavy gait behind you growing near, and you could count 2 steps. It took him 2 steps to catch up to you, despite you having a bit of a lead on him. Feeling his rough, large hand on your shoulder, you were abruptly whipped around. could only catch a glimpse of his contagious smile before he leaned in, his hands coming up to cradle your face as his lips captured yours. 

They were soft, which you were glad about, since men you usually met didn’t seem to care about how gross their chapped lips felt; it urged you to reciprocate with no hesitation, utterly swept away by how good of a kisser he was. The scent of sweat that you had been dreaming about invaded your nostrils, so intoxicating that it melted you into him. You pressed your body up against him, and it was then you verified the very things you imagined about his physique in your head. The plush, soft nature of your dips and curves complimented the rock-like hardness of his abdomen, the firmness of his pecs. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him just so you could run your hands over his shoulders and back…you couldn’t decide what felt nicer.

Every single thing you did seemed to be to his liking, spurring him on the more you gave in. A groan rumbled in his throat as he angled his face to kiss you deeper, the vibrations making your lips tingle in just the right way. He’d bite at your bottom lip, poking and prodding at it with his tongue to see if you’d allow him entry, or if he’d get the same response from you. And it was so easy for him to get a reaction out of you, a soft whine at the feeling of his hand smoothing over the small of your back, so naturally, you allowed his tongue to explore you.

And his tongue tasted of such a strange but addictive mixture of cognac, honey, and cigarettes, it had you clawing onto his shoulders, craving to somehow get closer to him than you already were. It’s why you were taken aback when Miguel firmly held you and pulled away, though you could see his eyes gleam in a way that you wouldn’t expect a world-renowned CEO to have. Before you could protest, he scooped you up into his arms, his effortless strength never once failing to amaze you. You squealed at the feeling of being lifted into the air, your arms and legs wrapping around him so naturally. Your bodies seemed to slot together perfectly.

“Migueeeel,” you cooed in a sing-song matter, the distance between his face and yours mere inches away. “I thought I told you to quit smoking, y’know,” you scolded, your bottom lip sticking out as you gave him a fake pout.

He could only laugh in response, the deep and rich sound taking more of an effect on you as you felt it emerge from his chest and into your body. “Guilty as charged, but you shouldn’t worry.”

You managed to unhook your arms from his neck, crossing them over your chest. “Oh yeah? Why shouldn’t I?”

Miguel’s eyes began to crinkle with his amused smile, looking at you in such a way that made it look like he was desperate to drink in the image of you, as if he would never see you again after this night. He sighed, his breath warm against the tender skin of your neck. “I’ve found something better to get addicted to,” he admitted, the shivers it sent down your back quelled by the feeling of his fingertips rubbing warm circles into it.

You needed this man in your bed before the night ended. Wanting to waste no time with any more words, you brought your hands up to tangle your fingers into his hair, your manicured nails gently scraping over his scalp as you dove in. Your lips just barely grazed his when the soft “ding!” of the elevator shattered your privacy, causing the both of you to jerk back and whip your heads towards the golden elevator doors sliding open a couple of yards away. You both could make out voices, familiar voices before whoever it was walked out.

“-getting together?! You’d think him getting her shoes would guarantee at least a kiss,” an upbeat female voice gossiped.

“Gifting shoes is one thing. They’re both dressed up for a party, and he came over at such a late hour. Can you believe nothing happ– oh shit.”

You and Miguel were greeted with the sight of your faithful assistants walking out of the elevator, utterly frozen in place as their eyes widened, locked on you. Lyla’s jaw dropped, and Julia took a moment to compose herself from her initial shock before speaking again. “I take that back.”

You had squirmed yourself out of Miguel’s grip so quickly that you nearly fell to the floor in what would’ve been considered an unceremonious way, but he was sure to quickly ease you down to the floor. Guiltily standing beside him, you avoided the assistant’s gazes as you desperately waited for someone to break the silence. Miguel seemed to be doing the same.

“So!” Lyla shouted out, causing you and Miguel to jump slightly. “Need some privacy tonight, boss?”

“Please,” he grumbled through gritted teeth. As you glanced up, you saw him give Lyla such a nasty glare, it made you giggle.

“I take it that you need some as well?” Julia called your attention softly, making you turn towards her. Though her voice was calm, she had the most shit-eating grin on her face you had ever seen in your life.

You nodded, your eyes rolling so hard that you thought they would go back into your head. “You minxes,” you huffed. Without missing a beat, you took Miguel’s hand in yours as you whipped around and stomped off toward your door. As he caught up, the both of you couldn’t help but giggle somewhat nervously, and a similar one seemed to come from your assistant duo.

Once you heard them shuffle back into the elevator, you felt Miguel slither his arm comfortably around your waist. Looking up at him, you exchanged looks, flustered and amused ones alike.

“Lyla would always bug me about talking to you,” he admitted as you both reached your door, leaning against the wall as he patiently waited for you to punch the code in for your lock.

“Really?” you hummed with a raised brow, though the mental image of Lyla being his wingwoman brought a smile to your face. “I’m starting to think she and Julia were conspiring. They’d be cute together,” you mused, fluttering your lashes at him as the door unlocked with a click.

“Yeah?” Miguel laughed as the both of you shuffled into your home, reaching down to give a playful pat to your ass. “I think we’d have them beat.”

a/n: i really had fun w this prompt, again thank u to my lovely inbox and miss ava for the inspo and also being my lovely beta reader ;))) happy to add another miguel fic to my bag. inbox is open! likes n reblogs are appreciated!!

masterlist here.

[annieandro]

In love, Leo? It's the talk of the town, and you're doing most of the talking This is the greatest, grandest, most glorious romantic happening in all the history of lovers This isn't a simple affair of the heartIt's a Rodin statue, a Sistine Chapel, a 14-carat gold ruby-studded temple of pleasure which outdoes the Taj Mahal

In love with a Leo man, my girl? You are about to become a tasty dish to set before the king And you'll really be appreciated Get your hairstyle, lay in a supply of perfume, wrap your royal skin and silk, satins, and fur... and take your vitamins It's showtime, and every night is opening night Not yours, his The star is Leo, but you have the royal box seat However, don't think he's blinded by the footlights of the spotlight He'll have one eye on you all the time You're the king's favorite And if you can handle the role, you could make queen One thing is sure every headwaiter in town will know your name Leo is a big spenderWith a big need

In love with a Leo girl my man? Can you keep your head while all about you are losing theirs, over your lady? The word for the lioness is style Her style places her in the center of the room and makes her a target for every man on the scene This pussycat likes the best of everything that's happening nowShe is a social lioness with a flair for being "in" If the limelight is too bright for you, she may be too much for you Also you better believe that the age of chivalry is not dead And that romance is a very real reality For this is a love lady And the secret to holding her is a cool head and a very warm heart If you prove otherwise, you'll be saying "Pussycat? Pussycat, where have you been?" And your answer will probably be (yawns) A yawn

Out of love, Leo? Again, Leo? You'll recover But it doesn't seem possible I mean, it was so big and-Well, next time try an Aries, or a Sagittarius And try to remember, a thing doesn't have to be too much to be important Just, enough

[winniecouture]

Picking the best wedding dress is a big choice for a bride and it's not always simple. Finding a dress that makes you feel like royalty can be hard with so many styles to choose from and lots of choices. But don't worry, we are here to help you! In this article, we will look at the newest styles in wedding dresses and give you useful advice to help you find your perfect gown. If you like old style clothes or modern looks, we will explain the best styles that are popular in bridal fashion. We will talk about different styles and shapes of clothes that are popular now, including simple beauty to big sleeves and bold cuts. These designs catch people's attention. So, if you want to start looking for the best dress for your wedding, read on. This will give you all the ideas and help needed about finding it right way. Your dream dress awaits!

Current Wedding Dress Trends

Wedding dress fashions change all the time. It's important to know what's new so you can pick a dress that suits your likes and matches with how your big day will look like. This year, several fun new trends have made a big splash in the world of bridal fashion.

One popular style now is simple and classy. Now, clean lines, simple shapes and small details are very popular. Women getting married are choosing simple, elegant dresses that give off a classic look. These dresses usually use fancy clothes like silk or satin, and the priority is on perfect stitching and skill.

Statement sleeves are also a well-liked fashion trend. If it's big puffed sleeves, bishop sleeves or big bell-shaped ones then this style makes any bridal gown more fancy and romantic. Big arm sleeves can change a simple dress into something special and are great for brides who want to show off their style.

For the girls who like to show their fun style, big cutouts and low-cut tops are a fashion trend they should think about. These daring design parts make old-fashioned wedding dresses look sexy and modern. Using well-placed holes or low V lines, these features will surely catch people's attention and leave a lasting mark.

Finally, wedding dresses inspired by boho style are still very popular. Soft, pleasant fabrics, delicate lace and light details make a fun and loving look just right for outdoor or beach weddings. Boho dresses usually have fancy stitching, see-through parts and flower decorations. They add a feel of free spirit style to your wedding day.

Things to Keep in Mind When Picking a Wedding Dress:

It's fun to stay up with the newest styles, but don't forget that not all looks will fit every bride. When picking your wedding dress, think about some things to make sure you find a pretty and comfy gown for your big day.

First, think about the shape of your body. Each bride is special and different shapes look better on various body types. For example, if you have an hourglass-shaped body the mermaid dress or fit-and-flare dress will show off your curves. If you have a body that is shaped like a pear, wear an A-line dress with a tight bodice and flowing skirt. This will make your size look more even. Knowing what body type you have and picking a dress that suits it will make you look nice. It'll match up well with the rest of your outfit too.

Also, think about where your wedding will be and the general feel or style of it. If you're getting married and it is a fancy wedding with people wearing black-tie clothes, then choosing an elegant dress that has lots of details plus a long train might be great for you. For a wedding on the beach, you should wear an easy-to-move dress that lets you have fun and feels good in the wind. Make your dress match the place and event so you can make a pretty wedding look.

One more thing to think about is your own style. Your wedding dress should show your unique style and how you want to look on this big day. If you are a classic bride, then maybe old style designs that have straight lines and traditional decorations will be your choices. However, if you are daring and into fashion trends, maybe you would choose a special dress that displays your character. Don't be scared to show off your personal style when picking out a wedding dress.

Body Shapes and the Best Wedding Dress Outline

When you are picking the best shape for your unique wedding dress to match how you look, knowing what looks good on different body types can make a big change. In this section, we will look at some popular body shapes and the outlines that suit each type best.

Hourglass Figure: If you have a shape like an hourglass with clear lines, you'll want to show off your waist and make your curves stand out. A mermaid or fit-and-flare shape is great for showing off your body. These clothing styles wrap around your body from the waist to about halfway down your legs, then spread out wide. This gives a big and girly appearance.

Pear-Shaped Figure: For people who have a pear-shaped body, where the hips are wider than their shoulders, an A-line shape is perfect. The tailored bodice will make your waist stand out, while the big skirt will even out how you look. Think about wearing dresses with adorned chest parts or unique necklines to bring focus upwards.

Apple-Shaped Figure: If you are like an apple body with a bigger middle part, empire waist dress is good to wear. The high waistline and long skirt will make you look good in a way that makes your body seem longer. Search for dresses with waistlines at the top and stay away from tight styles that focus on middle part.

Straight Figure: If you have a simple shape with little curves, you can make it look like there are more by choosing the right dress style. A dress that hugs the body is a good choice for looking slim and classy. Consider

[megamobilestylesposts]

The Ultimate Guide to Passion Braids

Passion Braids - Unleash Your Style with Us

Welcome, gorgeous ladies, to MOBILESTYLES, your go-to destination for all things beauty and wellness! Today, we're here to delve into the wonderful world of passion braids, those stunning hairstyles that allow you to express your unique style and stand out from the crowd. 

Whether you're looking for a bold and fierce look or a romantic and whimsical vibe, passion braids have got you covered.

So, let's dive right in and discover everything you need to know about this fabulous hair trend!

What are Passion Braids, Anyway?

Passion braids are a versatile and creative way to rock your locks. These braids incorporate a range of techniques, including cornrows, box braids, and twists, to create intricate patterns and styles. 

You can unleash your inner artist and experiment with various colors, lengths, and textures to achieve a look that reflects your personality.

Passion Braids Styles to Ignite Your Imagination

It’s not only about making a fashion statement but also about celebrating diversity and self-expression. They provide a canvas for your individuality, allowing you to embrace your unique beauty and style in a fun and creative way. So, if you're ready to let your hair do the talking, let's explore some exciting passion braid styles!

Box Braids with a Twist

Take the classic box braids to the next level by adding a twist—literally! Incorporate twisted sections within your braids to create a captivating and dynamic look. This style offers a fresh and modern take on a timeless favorite.

Colored Cornrows

Why settle for one color when you can have a rainbow on your head? Elevate your braids by adding vibrant hues to your cornrows. From pastel pink to electric blue, the color possibilities are endless, so don't be afraid to let your imagination run wild!

Fishtail Goddess Braids

Combine the elegance of goddess braids with the intricate beauty of fishtail braids for a look that exudes grace and sophistication. These braids are perfect for special occasions or when you want to add a touch of glamour to your everyday style.

Braided Top Knot

Elevate your passion braids to new heights—literally! Gather your braids into a high-top knot for a chic and trendy look. This style is ideal for those hot summer days when you want to keep your hair off your neck while still looking fabulous.

The Art of Maintaining Passion Braids

Now that you've chosen your favorite passion braid style, it's important to know how to care for and maintain them to keep them looking flawless. Here are a few tips to keep your passion braids looking their best:

Keep your scalp hydrated: Moisturize your scalp regularly to prevent dryness and itching. Use a lightweight oil or a specially formulated braid spray to keep your scalp moisturized without weighing down your braids.

Protect your braids at night: Invest in a satin or silk bonnet or use a silk pillowcase to prevent friction and frizz while you sleep. This simple step will help you retain the shape and last longer.

Wash with care: When washing, use a gentle shampoo and focus on your scalp. Avoid rough rubbing or excessive pulling on the braids, as this can lead to fraying and damage.

Remember, passion braids are a form of self-expression, so don't be afraid to have fun and experiment with different styles and techniques. And when you're ready to switch up your look, simply book an appointment with one of MOBILESTYLES' talented beauty professionals who specialize in those hairstyles. They'll help you bring your braid dreams to life!

At MOBILESTYLES, we're passionate about connecting beauty experts with clients like you. Book an appointment through our app and discover a world of beauty and wellness services tailored to your needs. Let us help you express your unique style and enhance your natural beauty. Happy styling!

Remember, beautiful, at MOBILESTYLES, we're here to help you embrace your individuality and unleash your inner beauty queen. Book an appointment through our app today and let our talented beauty professionals bring your dreams to life. You deserve to look and feel fabulous, always!

[yandere-romanticaa]

"Have you finished reading the papers I sent to you earlier this week?"

"No, I hardly started, I was too busy."

"Alright. If you have a moment to spare, could you take a look at the document I have on my person right now?"

Oh Archons, he was going at it again. No one would blame you if you thought that Al-Haitham was a hound dog by the way he's always on the prowl for the things that he needed and interested him and the moment it was the opinions of others of his current project. Truth be told you weren't too sure to just what exactly he was coming up with but you honestly couldn't be bothered to care. This little song and dance between you and him had randomly started a few weeks ago when you presented your own ideas and theories (sprinkled with a little bit of your own personal opinion for good measure) to counter his thesis and he found what you said to be fascinating to say the least.

Catching him in the city became almost a daily occurrence as he would make you stop whatever you were doing and downright force you to answer whatever question he asked of you, no matter how pointless and even ludicrous it was. He would ramble and ramble and then he would go quiet, a deafening silence that demanded that you speak up. You forwned. This was getting out of hand and it needed to stop.

"Al-Haitham." you said, determination lacing your voice.

"I have a life outside of these little conversations of ours, I must politely ask you to stop following me and hounding me to answer whatever it is that you want."

Ah, that seems to have done the trick!

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable." he said with a sincere tone.

"However."

Darn it, spoke too soon. Of course he wouldn't really let it go.

"Care to indulge me, just this one more time?"

With a sigh you looked down to the floor, millions of thoughts swirling through your head.

"You really are a lunatic, I hope you know that Al-Haitham." you said with an angry grunt.

"So I've been told." he replied, completely brushing you off like it was nothing.

Rolling your eyes and placing your arms on your hips, you decided to accept his request.

"Shoot."

"Silk or velvet satin?"

"Huh?"

Just what was this man asking you?! Your confused face only seemed to perplex him, which caused him to repeat himself.

"I said - silk or velvet satin. Which material do you prefer? Is your hearing damaged?"

"Oh I heard you alright I just don't understand what and why you're asking me this."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little as he thought about how to answer you.

"Everyone has a favorite material of sorts even if they don't know it. I just wanted to know which one you prefer, nothing more, nothing less."

How straightforward of him. You couldn't tell whether or not he was plotting something or he was legitimately curious about your opinion. Well, when you thought about it there was a strong possibility that curiosity was his main motivator.

"Silk." you replied curtly.

"Excellent. Now I shall know how to act in the future in case things get too rough..."

You strained your ears to hear the last bit as you hardly heard anything. He was taking to himself, the weirdo.

"We're done Al-Haitham. Please go away now."

"Of course. Today's conversation has been fruitful and I apologize for the convenience."

You raised your eyebrows. Who would have thought that it was possible to hear the man actually apologize properly? You walked away in shock, still a little weirded out but happy that it was finally over.

With a smirk Al-Haitham went on his own way as well, satisfaction brimming within him as the tsunami of conflicting emotions raged in the black hole he called a heart. You were a fascinating person to study and talk to, it was only natural that he wanted to keep you close. Now he at least knew how to make things just a bit more comfortable for you.

🍒 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @morigumy, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopsia-sonder, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome

[wildbornsiren]

Kinktober Day 22: Bondage || Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader

Bondage. 

Summary: Trust is earned, and rewarded. 

1412 words. Female/AFAB reader (established relationship)

Warnings: EXPLICIT MINORS DNI: use of restraints, spreader bars, blindfolds, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Established D/s relationship. 

Notes:  For #kinktober2022. Please follow @wbslibrary​ since tag lists are gone. (I appreciate ya’ll so much but it was stressing me out, and I was worried I’d miss someone). Comments and sharing let me know you love me, likes are appreciated. Thank you so very much for reading. It’s so appreciated and means the most.

A quiet getaway, just the two of you. Jake had been overwhelmed with work, and finally caved taking some leave. The two of you had escaped to a hideaway in the mountains, surrounded by wilderness, the nearest point of civilization forty-five minutes away. The cabin overlooked a meandering river, evergreen forest stretching out for miles. The two of you had wrapped up in blankets, sharing a lounge chair on the porch as the sun set. Jake’s hands had worked their way under your hoodie, fingers brushing gently up and down your stomach. His chest is so warm and solid, his chin resting on your shoulder, the three days’ worth of scruff tickling your neck.

“You want to fool around?” He asks softly. You can feel his smile as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“It sounds like you’ve got something in mind.”

“That thing we talked about a few weeks ago.” Jake says. “Are you feeling comfortable with it tonight?”

His hand stills, giving you the chance to think. You nod, tipping your head to capture his mouth with your own. “I want to explore that with you.”

“Remember the safe word?” He kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” you say, chasing another kiss. “How do you want me, Jake?”

He groans softly. “Strip down for me. Wait seated on the bed. Eyes closed, lights off, curtains open.” You kiss his cheek before removing yourself from his lap and heading inside.

The bedroom is spacious, one wall floor to ceiling windows, the moonlight streaming in, providing gentle illumination. You pull your hoodie and t-shirt off, hands trembling a little bit when you shove your jeans down your hips, kicking them aside. It takes a few more moments of mentally calming yourself before you toss your bra and panties across the room and sit down on the edge of the bed. The blankets are soft, bed comfortable (the two of you hadn’t left it the day after you arrived). Taking another steady breath, you close your eyes when you hear the sliding glass door that led to the patio open.

“Look at you,” Jake says. “You’re beautiful.” His fingertips, gentle and sure, tip your chin up to kiss your mouth softly. You sigh, feeling the wide strip of satin brush your skin, Jake fastening the blindfold in place. His touch is always electric, but now it’s even more exhilarating, his mouth and fingers mapping the curves of your breasts, down to your stomach.  His hands slide over your knees, and he parts your legs, the scruff on his jaw so rough against your calf. Another kiss, this time to your ankle. The metallic click of the cuff closing sent shivers down your spine. It’s lined so it’s not uncomfortable, though the stretch when he extends the bar, keeping your legs open for him makes you groan.

“Color baby?” Kisses rain down the inside of your thigh, his tongue swiping a broad stroke against your exposed cunt before he’s still.

“Green.” You murmur.

“Good girl.” He climbs onto the bed with you, draping himself over your back. “Can you lift your hips, or do you need help?” You manage to lift yourself so he can work a pillow under your hips, giving you more support. His hands are so warm as they ease down your shoulders, fingers interlocking with yours. He kisses each of your knuckles, before he’s gently bringing your arms behind you. You breathe through the stretch in your chest, feeling the muscles loosen slightly. He ties your wrists together, the silk rope warming to your skin as he does so.

“I’m going to help you lay back. I’ve got you.” His lips are against the shell of your ear, teeth nipping slightly. You can hear him moving backward, gently easing you down onto your back. Your head hits another pillow, and you sigh, feeling any residual tension leaving your body.

“Feels good.” You murmur. His hands are on you again, blunt nails scraping your thighs. Goosebumps erupt on your arms and torso, body arching as much as you can. His mouth follows his fingers, tongue soothing over the scratches.

“Color?” He asks again, his teeth sinking into your thigh.

“Green, please Jake…” your voice breaks slightly. “I need.”

“I’ve got you, sweet girl.”

If he only knew how true that statement was. He had every part of you, every smile, thought, moan, sensation was his. You wanted to give him everything and let him hold onto it until time ceased to be. Jake whispers praise to you, the words melting into your body, igniting every nerve ending. His fingers ease into you effortlessly, thrusting two into you, curling them just right, finding that spongy spot that makes you shake.

“Oh fuck,” he nips at your hip. “You’re so wet baby, so perfect just for me.” He licks, tongue teasing where his fingers stretch your entrance. His lips close over your clit, sucking teasingly, continuing to work his index and middle finger into you. “Come for me when you can.” He’s relentless, taking you higher and higher, the pleasure building low in your belly. You nearly bite through you lower lip when you come, body arching off the bed, your hands clenching together, unable to touch him, anything.

“Jake, Jake…” His name falls from your lips, an unholy hymn of need. He kisses you, sloppy and panting against your mouth. You can taste him, yourself, his tongue sliding past your lips.

“You did so well for me.” He murmurs “Can you take a little bit more?”

You nod frantically, before finding your voice. “Yes, yes I can.”

“I’m going to release your legs.” He kisses your mouth again. “I need to have them over my shoulders.”

The bed shifts, and his hands are so gentle when he releases the cuff on the spreader bars. Nimble fingers massage any ache from your calves, his tongue dragging up your leg, tasting sweat and salt. The sound of his zipper lowering and the drop of his pants, paired with his low groan made you shiver. Jake settles between your legs, gently drawing them up, over his shoulders. The slow, steady slid of his cock makes your toes curl—he doesn’t stop until he’s bottomed out. His arms are on either side of you, you can feel the effort it takes him to hold his weight back.

“Still with me darlin’?” He whispers. He’s so deep, you can feel his chest moving against your as he breathes.

“Yes sir,” behind the blindfold your eyes flutter closed. It’s all too much, his weight, the press of his hips against yours, the steady pace he sets as he thrusts into you. You feel like you’re floating and he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “Please kiss me.”

“Good girl, tell me what you need.” He moves, hips rocking harder into you, his mouth closing over yours. He swallows the sounds you make, losing himself in the kiss. “Just a little more sweetheart, I’m so close. You look so pretty like this, feel so goddamn good.” He’s babbling against your temple, his sweat dripping onto you. He’s all consuming, and yet you want more. Need him to take you completely, to belong to this man who is whimpering such delicious sounds into your ear.

Jake comes, spilling into you with another needy moan. He’s still for a few moments, breathing each other in. He’s so gentle when he pulls out. He kisses your temple, gently sliding his arm around your shoulders, lifting you easily from the bed. You slump against him, nuzzling into his warmth, mouthing at his jaw. He unties the knots, sliding the rope from your skin. You wiggle your fingers, rotating your shoulders the feeling not entirely unpleasant.

“You with me?”

“Right here, with you.”

A water bottle is pressed to your lips, and you gulp eagerly. “Slow down darlin’.” He takes it away, wiping an errant drop from your mouth. “Close your eyes, the blindfold is coming off.” The satin is damp with tears from overstimulation, the air in the room cool on heated skin. He kisses you again, fingers gently rubbing at your scalp.

When you open your eyes, you see the golden man, grinning shyly at you in the silver of the moonlight. He reaches for you, pulling you to him, falling onto the bed. He rubs your back gently, your ear pressed to Jake’s chest listening to his heartbeat.

[emeraldiis]

Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.