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miguelhugger2099 · 3 months

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Him and I (1/2)

Summary: You get thrown into another, another dimension while on a mission with Miguel. You end up meeting Miguel's variant where lingering feelings lie. Next Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, PWP, Word Count: 6,808 CW: just a smidge of voyeurism

It was rough how you ended up here in another dimension and it wasn’t ideal either. Earlier, you were on a mission with Miguel and doing the usual of tracking and containing anomalies. However, this one was a little rough, giving both you and Miguel a hard time with how slippery it had been. Arriving at the scene, Miguel quickly barked orders at you to scan the place to track and trace any possible disrupted canon events. While he went one way, you went the other and for a while, neither of you had been able to grab it. Until your watch pinged with a hologram of Miguel’s face calling to tell you he found the anomaly and was leading it towards you for some backup. Putting on your mask, you swung away on your webs to meet him halfway.

One thing led to another and both of you were hollering at each other different plans and strategies since this anomaly was somehow escaping every chance it got. Miguel grabbed on its neck and yanked it back which made it screech and slam him against a brick wall. He grunted and let go from the sheer force of it. The anomaly went head first for you to which you jumped on its back. Eventually, you held onto it and tried to use your watch to open a portal. The anomaly tried ripping you off it, scratching your watch and damaging the touch pad. Whatever number you tried putting in, was jumbled up and yet a portal opened up anyway. Time and space warped around you two, the wormhole trying to suck up anything. The anomaly then grabbed you and ripped you off its back, throwing you into the portal which shut right after you went through. So here you are, in a dimension that isn’t your New York, but it did look like a certain someone’s Nueva York. Tall buildings, hovercrafts and holographic billboards were plastered everywhere. You looked down at your watch and saw claw marks on the touchpad, small sparks of electricity fizzed out but it wasn’t too damaged, you decided. You weren’t glitching so you counted that as a win. You heard a familiar zip of web shooters being used from above. Tilting your head up, you saw the familiar red and mostly blue suit swinging by and ignoring you. You squinted at the figure leaving.

“Miguel…?” You whispered to yourself. Pushing the watch problem aside, you began following him, trying to catch up to him. “Miguel!” You called out through the whipping winds as you gained speed.

His figure thwipped around, seemingly trying to get you off his tail. You grew frustrated. Why was he just avoiding you? If he was here, that means the anomaly had gotten away and it’d be more work for both of you.

He then made a sharp turn around a tall building. You nearly passed it but you stopped yourself just in time to swivel your head around to see where he had gone. Your eyes honed in on his figure crawling up the side of the building and into an open window. With determination, you shot your web to the building and began crawling up. Once you made it to the damn near very top, you opened the window and crawled in. With your feet now planted on the floor, you took off your mask and looked around. It was a bedroom and a large one at that with a giant king sized bed and a giant set up where you assumed would display a holographic screen. You noted it was dark too with all the lights switched off and Miguel was nowhere to be seen. You were sure you saw him crawl in this room. You began walking around the room just to make sure, trying to find anything. When you didn’t–the lack of pictures was appalling– you made your way over to the bedroom door and took a peek outside of it. The hallways were just as dark, if not darker. You took a step out and squinted your eyes, hoping your vision would adjust to the lighting.

You heard a shift far in front of you and paused in your steps. You tried focusing on whatever was in front of you and that’s when you saw red eyes. You froze and held your breath while the eyes simply watched you, slightly moving as it seemingly saw you through the dark.

These eyes were familiar to you and so you dropped your guard. “Miguel…?” You called out again. “What the hell? I was right behind you! Did the anomaly throw you in here too?”

You tried approaching him but then backed up when he came closer as well, at a faster rate than you thought. Your gasped and your spider senses went haywire. With a bit of difficulty on your end, you looked up to see someone who wasn’t Miguel. Or you thought.

The man had Miguel’s scarlet orbs, but instead of brown hair he had dark red hair to match his eyes. Instead of brown skin, he had white skin. He had a similar face shape with the same sharp cheekbones and strong jawline but his face was a bit longer than that. You noticed a five o’clock shadow he might’ve been planning to shave off soon. His height was shorter than your Miguel but it was still tall enough to tower over you. His face was in a scowl, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, on guard for the danger that he decided you were. You took a glance down his chest, the spider emblem different than you remember–much sharper than your Miguel’s geometric shapes.

“Who…who are you?” You asked, taking a few steps back and this man following, his eyes never leaving yours. If you searched for a while longer, you would’ve seen a hint of disbelief and hidden fondness.

“Miguel O’Hara. Who are you?” He growled. You gulped flinching when your back hit the wall and his clawed hand struck the space by your head to cage you against him.

You stated your name with a shake of your voice. It seemed to anger him further.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grit his teeth, his lips curled to show his fangs.

“It–It’s not! I swear!” You insisted. “Listen, I can explain. I’m from another dimension. I–I’m part of this society full of other people like us—with spider powers. I got…blasted here by some villain when I was with you—or the variant you–but I’m not here to fight some more.” You sighed, hoping he could have some sense and maybe believe you.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed down at you to search and scan for just an ounce of lying in your tone but he found none. His facade cracked for a moment, almost melancholy and sad before hardening again. He separated from you, standing taller and retracting his talons back to his fingertips. You saw him hesitate to lift his hand up but he decided against it. “How did you get here?” He asked lowly.

You lifted your wrist to show your damaged watch. “It’s more or less a dimension hopping device,” You elaborated. Miguel attempted to slip it off your wrist but you stopped him. “I have to keep it on or else I’ll start glitching and–it hurts.” You laughed nervously a bit at the end. Miguel’s facial expression didn’t waver. He only held your wrist–gently at that– and turned it around to examine it.

“I can fix it.” He murmured nonchalantly with a raise of his reddish eyebrow. You sighed. Even in another dimension, Miguel is just as sure of himself. He looked up to meet your eyes, softer but still guarded. “If you’ll let me.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes, please, of course. That’d be great. Thank you.” He let go of your hand and turned around to a space in his home where various inventions laid around and you followed suit with big eyes. “Woah… This is..cool.” You mumbled. Miguel looked over his shoulder as he walked, a ghost of a fond smile on his lips when you weren’t looking. Then suddenly, a bright yellow figure popped up. She was life sized with long white blonde hair in a side part with a white long dress.

“Welcome home, Miguel,” She placed her hands behind her back and gave him a dimpled smile. Her smile faltered when she saw you. “Is that–”

Miguel cut her off by introducing your name to her. “She’s from another dimension. That’s all, Lyla.” You couldn’t see Miguels face but you did see Lyla’s–which you were surprised at the stark difference. You saw her eyes glance at Miguel and then stand up a bit taller, her smile coming back. It was as if they had a mutual understanding.

“Of course, Miguel.” She closed her eyes and phased out again, leaving the two of you alone again. Miguel turned around to face you and gestured to a stool by a nearby table. You walked over and sat on it, Miguel grabbing another chair–and a toolbox it seemed–and placing himself beside you. He offered his hand and you gave it to him, your size difference being much clearer. Miguel took off his suit gloves which surprised you once more since your Miguel’s suit wasn’t necessarily standard fabric like this one. But since this one had claws too, the suit must also be made of some technology you’re not aware of.

Miguel took a look inside the damage the claws had done to the watch and began working on it silently. You took the time to notice his features and began comparing it to the other Miguel subconsciously.

The five o’clock shadow you had noticed before was also coming in red. It seemed like this version of Miguel leaned more into his Irish side. His hair was in a short side part, with his fringe falling on his forehead but he didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. The small glances he took at you made you see his eyes more clearly. They were the same red as your Miguel and equally as beautiful.

You pushed that thought away. It was strange to think that way about your boss’ variant, much less your boss himself. You admit he’s handsome–the two of them– and you could also tell that they knew that.

“Had enough staring?” He asked when you turn away to shake off your thoughts. If you didn’t know any better, it’d sound like he was teasing you.

“Have you?” You shot back. “I saw you staring too.”

“I was.” Miguel answered simply. He placed a screwdriver down, popping open the screen and examining it further. “Sorry about that. You…remind me of someone.”

The air had felt heavier. You had a gut feeling and you decided to see if you were right. “Did you know another me?”

Miguel nods, not looking up. “My own you, she passed,” He picks apart the device carefully, making sure to not damage it further. “Seeing you and sensing you…I was convinced you were some villain trying to haunt me. But I know now that it’s not true.” He says with little to no emotion. Maybe he was just hiding it under a facade. It wouldn’t be the first time you were on that end.

“I’m sorry,” You tried to apologize but he stood up, taking a piece of your watch with him.

“Nothing’s really damaged other than the screen. It shouldn’t be a problem to fix.” He says softly, and turns away to another side of the room. You purse your lips, deciding whether or not to play into his bad habits of closing off when he just opened up. You decided the former and asked another question.

“How long will it take?”

He pauses. “Do you hate it here already?”

“What?! No. No, of course not! I mean, I can't hate what I don’t know. Not to say I don’t know you. I know a Miguel just maybe you’re different. Which isn’t a bad thing but it’s just I can’t overstay–I need to go home because that would be invading your space.”

Miguel looks over at you and the corners of his lips are turned up. “I was joking.”

You stop your rambling and frown at him. “Your humor is bland.” Miguel laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

“You’re still the same…” He murmurs to himself. He shrugs off that thought, thinking it was disrespectful to the you that he once knew.

“It won’t take long,” He speaks to you. “I don’t have the exact materials as this but it’s still possible to make them. It should take a couple days. Maybe a little more or less a week.” He pulls up a holographic monitor and touches across the screen.

A week, you thought to yourself, at best. Miguel took another look around the damaged screen he’d plucked off your watch.

“Did I make this?” He looked over at you and you instinctively sat up straighter. “The other me.” He clarified.

“Well, yeah,” You shrugged on one side. “Made the blueprint and had Lyla help make it.”

“Lyla?” He hummed with a raise of his eyebrows. “Hm.” His jaw clenched, feeling a tinge of envy for his counterpart. He did dimensional travel and he had you around? It wasn’t fair. With a click of his tongue, he placed the screen back down and moved away from the table, opting out to type things you couldn’t see on another monitor.

You felt awkward sitting there with nothing to do so you stood up and looked around, keeping a respectful distance from Miguel and his things. You didn’t notice the way he stopped typing and admired you through the reflection of his monitor.

Same curve of your nose, shape of your jaw, same way your eyelashes fluttered. Miguel wished you were a ghost in that moment, maybe then he wouldn’t feel that agonizing itch to hold you again. “Do you…want a change of clothes?” He asked you, pulling you out of your bubble. “I have some of her things still here, lying around.” He offered, trying to appear nonchalant. You looked down at your spider suit. It was a bit dirtied from being thrown around so you could use a pair of comfortable clothes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to ruin her things or anything.”

Miguel shook his head and made his way out, ushering you to follow him. “I insist. I’d rather her things be used than lying around anyway.” You two had walked into his bedroom again. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out some shirt and sweatpants. He held onto them a little longer before inhaling and passing them to you.

You looked at the clothes, noting how he looked at them “I really don’t have to wear them–”

“Please.” Miguel insisted. You blinked once and licked your lips, giving him time to make sure before you took it in your hands. You held it close to your chest.

“Bathroom?” You asked. He pointed down the hall and you followed, closing the door behind you and leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He rummaged through his drawer to find his own set of comfortable clothes outside his suit. He thought to himself, thinking about you and trying to find any differences. Your nose bridge was different but the tip of it was the same. Your hair texture was the same but you had a slightly different hue.

He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to help you. On one hand, you were the ghost of his past–the figure that taunted him of his failures as Miguel and as Spider-Man. But on the other hand, he missed you. All he ever wanted was to see you again and he wanted to selfishly keep seeing you. He sat at the edge of his bed, battling with his inner thoughts until he heard you come back.

Miguel looked up and got the wind knocked out of his chest. They fit you perfectly like you bought these yourself. You smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it was weird for him to see you in his dead girlfriend's clothes but he just nodded.

“Looks like it fits.” He choked out.

“They do. Thanks, again.” You smiled wearily. One week. He’d enjoy you for one week and maybe–just maybe– ask if you can come back.

Miguel didn't like the fact you offered to stay in his penthouse while he did his Spider-Man duties. Even more so when he knew you didn’t like sitting still either and only offered out of politeness. He guessed that if you were anything like him now, a being with super powers, it meant you also felt a responsibility to do something and help people. So, he invited you to join his patrols.

You declined at first. “I’ve already crashed your universe–”

“Would it kill you to just join me without being so high and mighty?” He asked with a pointed look knowing you were too nice for your own good even in his universe. You sighed through your nose and reluctantly agreed, still feeling awkward around him despite his not so stubble attempts to make you comfortable. Which was strange considering your initial hostile encounter.

For the next few days, it seemed patrolling was a nice bonding time for you two. Surprisingly, you worked well together like he knew just how you worked and acted accordingly. He knew once you spotted a small crime going on, he’d let you get the first punch in since you were a bit competitive. While swinging, he figured out you liked to hang in the air for a moment longer before using your webs again ao he swung at a distance while you could do your flips and jumps. For the entire week, you had forgotten you were technically stranded here but that fact didn’t seem to bother you.

Along with that, Miguel worked on fixing your watch, creating a small wristband that would delay your glitching while he took the device. Eventually, he did fix it and turned it brand new again. You were incredibly grateful and he just smiled softly at you through his shaded glasses. You slipped it on and was prepared to head home when he stopped you and asked if you’d like to go on a final patrol with him. You fiddled with your watch, debating but you did feel a small part of you not wanting to leave him, strangely enough. So, you went.

It had been late by the time you came back to his penthouse, opting to crawl through the window of his bedroom. The night was hotter than expected, both of you leaning on the wall to catch your breaths after ripping off your masks.

“Made sure no one followed?” You asked with a heavy sigh. Miguel propped himself off the wall and leaned over to glance outside the window beside you, his hand placed next to your head and his hand subconsciously held your hip, making you freeze. He didn’t seem to notice even as you stared shamelessly up at him. Miguel’s eyes were focused and sharp, a stark contrast to the way he squinted under his sunglasses during the daytime. His arm by your head flexed as he moved to keep himself steady but the hand on your hip was warm and comforting that left your heart fluttering. Sure, he was handsome–but you couldn’t, right? Right?

Miguel’s eyes found yours again and for a moment was confused why you seemed so stiff. You looked up at him with beady and bashful eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He instinctively looked down at your lips and back to your eyes, his hand moving up to your waist. He hunched over you, caging you to the wall and making you feel the heat radiating off his body. You stared straight even as he closed in on you by your ear, your heart pounding in your chest and down to your abdomen.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” He whispered by your ear, his thumbs by your waist caressed your hip bone, a subtle reminder of his sweetness underneath his rough exterior. Despite the short time spent together, he was sure you felt something for him after basically living with him. He was still at a distance but with your lack of reply, he took that as an answer and took a step back away from you.

Before he could, you grabbed onto his arms, keeping him in place and close to you. “No,” You said quickly. “No, don’t stop. Please.” You whispered, your heart hammering inside your chest.

Miguel came back to you, his arms securing himself around you, his own heartbeat increasing in speed. “Are you sure?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Please.” You whispered again. Miguel took one arm off your waist to cup your cheek and tilt it up to face him. You felt heat crawl up to your cheeks meanwhile Miguel looked like he was about to take a bite of the forbidden fruit that was you. He was entranced and a little needy and eager to feel your lips on his again. Despite you being a different version of the one he knew–it was still you. Down to your hair, eyes and lips. Even the way your nose would scrunch in disgust and the way you walked and fiddled with your fingers. It was all still you. He wasn’t going to lose his chance.

So he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man starved, practically bending your back as he curled himself on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to gain some stability while he pulled you close enough for you to go on your tiptoes. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and his hand left your cheek to bend slightly to pick you up. You got the hint and wrapped your legs around him and Miguel pressed you up against the wall. His growing erection grinding slowly on your clothed heat, making the two of you moan.

Your fingers curled into his fiery hair just the way he liked and his hands grabbed at every piece of flesh he could squeeze in his palms. Miguel’s lips separated from yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you until he brought his lips down to your neck. You leaned your head back on the wall while he worked his magic, licking and nipping at your flesh with care due to his fangs. You heard him moan, gripping you tighter as he tasted you and your breathing became heavier.

Miguel lifted you off the wall, hurrying towards his bedroom and plopping your body down on the plush, soft mattress. He took your thighs and separated them to see the wet patch seeping out your spider suit. You felt his talons gently probing your skin and his eyes met yours again as he paused.

You nodded once again and with new vigor, he took one clawed hand and slashed the bottom half of your suit apart along with your panties. You gasped.

“Miguel…!”

“I’ll get you ten shocking suits. Just let me have you.” He groaned and delved between your legs. He licked up a stripe and your breath hitched, your hands immediately finding his hair. Miguel felt himself strain in his own suit, bucking his hips pathetically against anything he could find while he ate you out. His tongue probed your entrance and his nose rubbed against your clit that made your arch your back and thrust yourself on his mouth. His fingers joined his mouth in pushing you to your limit, coaxing more moans and whimpers from your pouting lips.

You covered up your mouth with your hand, covering up your face in embarrassment. The sounds of Miguel slurping and licking up your essence made you so much more wet and weak. You squirm underneath his hands and Miguel growls, using his strength to keep your legs in place and apart while he indulges in the taste of you. His eyes are closed, salivating and devouring your juices with every lap of his tongue. His fingers spread your lips open, sliding one finger in and swirling his tongue in your pussy. You clench around his wet muscle and finger, feeling him smirk against you.

Miguel continues to ease his finger inside you, pumping it too slowly for your liking. You whined which made his cock twitch and you pleaded for more. Drunk on your sweetness, he complied and added a second finger, the stretch becoming evident. You arched your back off the bed and you felt Miguel's other hand caress your thigh comfortingly. His moans send vibrations to your clit and grind yourself desperately on him while squealing his name.

“Hmm–Fuck, Mi-ggy…” You whined, pressing your thighs around his head. You felt Miguel pause for a split second, the nickname you’ve given him had gone straight between his legs. He gained more confidence to please you, taking his fingers out to grab your breast and sucking on your clit. The sensation of him forcibly spreading you apart again and the combination of your nipple being tweaked pulled and his tongue made you feel shocks of electricity down your spine. You felt the pit of your abdomen growing with your upcoming climax and you started thrashing around as much as you could with Miguel holding you down.

“Miggy! Fuck–Don’t stop!” As if he would ever, now that he’s tasted your delectable pussy. He only continued the same pace that had you squirming and chasing you high. His fingers teasing your nipples after every swirl of his tongue and the bubble pops inside you.

You scream his name into the air and grip on the sheets beside you while screwing your eyes shut. You humped on his eager mouth, drinking in whatever you gave him with a satisfied hum. He pressed closer to make sure he could lap up as much as he could but still, drips of you slid down his chin and around his lips. You mewled when the high finished and you were left with a sensitive pussy that he still made sure to clean you up with his mouth.

With hazy eyes, you stared at him still between your legs, watching with a smirk as you collected yourself. Miguel swirled his tongue around his lips to clean himself off and even used his hands to scoop up the parts he couldn’t reach to lick it off spotlessly, not a single ounce of your cum going to waste. It made you burn in embarrassment but also gaining a weak pulse to your twitching pussy.

He kneeled over you, drinking in your naked body from the flyaways in your hair to the way your legs shook after just orgasming. His stare was intense and it made you want to hide yourself from just how long he’d been looking at you for. You didn’t know it, but Miguel felt a twinge of heartache in his chest. He missed you–the other you dearly– and it felt strange that in a way you’re still here but different. He felt afraid that this might’ve been on impulse. You look like her, sound like her, but yet you haven’t experienced things with him like her. The you in front of him was, in a way, a whole different woman.

“Miguel?” You gently pulled him out of his mind. Oh, how your eyes still send his heart racing when he looks at you. Your eyes held concern and worry in them. Was he regretting it? Should you stop? It was the opposite. One look at you and Miguel’s worries had faded.

It’s still you down to your core. The one he had truly fallen in love with. In every lifetime and in every universe, he was meant to be beside you. He leaned in to nuzzle against the softness of your neck and pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Nothing,” He eased your worries. “You’re just simply gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt a blush crawl up your neck.

Miguel made his way down your neck to your chest where he continued to leave kisses in his wake. His head of red hair curled slightly from the sweat that had built up between the two of you and it tickled you on his way down. Your bashful state was cut short when he flicked your nipple with his tongue and it made you whimper. Your mind had gone up in the clouds once more when he began suckling on the bud, the nerves of it sending signals to your pussy, making you wet again.

Miguel took a moment to rid himself of his own suit and underwear, returning to please your tender breasts. His knee had gone in between your thighs to push one leg away and his hand delved down to rub your swollen clit. His fingers rubbed in small circles that made you melt and lean your head back while his mouth continued its attack on gently biting your now hardened nipples. Your hands ran through his hair which encouraged him further and you both moaned in unison.

Miguel pulled away from your tits, a small smirk on his lips as he saw the bitemark around your bud beginning to form. His hand left your sopping cunt and licked off the sweet nectar that was you with a hum of his voice. The sight left you shivering and he leaned back down to kiss you, making you taste yourself. You mewled as he forced his tongue inside to find yours in a heated dance. Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your chest up which made him groan when he felt your hard nipples graze his skin.

You felt a blunt poke at your entrance and Miguel pulled away just enough for his forehead to be above yours. He looked into your eyes, another check to see if this is what you wanted–what you both wanted. You nodded again, firmly this time, and he didn’t need another second.

Miguel pushed his fat cockhead between your lips to coat his length before entering it inside you. You winced and Miguel buried himself in your neck, his hand on your hip, caressing you and encouraging you to hold onto him. You wrapped your arms around him as he pushed further inside you, his size being nothing you’ve experienced. “I know, I know,” He shushed you, kissing your neck to distract you. “Such a pretty girl. You can take it, sweetheart.”

You whimpered at his praise, digging your nails in his back that left red crescents behind, a faint click sounding out that neither of you heard when you bumped your hand on his shoulder. “Miguel…” You moaned, spreading your legs further apart while he shook, sliding himself inside you.

Miguel moaned your name back, finally pushing himself to the hilt and his balls slapping your cunt with a wet smack from the combination of your weeping core and his spit. You wiggled your hips at the snug fit and tried to get used to his size but he stopped you, hissing and digging his nails in your flesh to anchor himself from cumming immediately. He kissed your cheeks to ease you while he gently pulled in and out in small strokes.

“More….harder…” You mewled, your walls finally used to his girth and clamping down on his throbbing cock to suck him in deeper. Miguel grabbed your hips and lifted it up with his inhumane strength and began moving, his cock glistening with your slick when he pulled out and hearing it squelch inside your wet cunt when he pushed back in. Your nails scratched at his chest and he grabbed one of your hands to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “You’re driving me crazy,” Miguel moaned. “This cunt’s just been waiting to be fucked, huh?” He huffed, slowly gaining speed. When you didn’t respond, he slammed into you and made you scream from his tip hitting your sweet spot. “Yes!” You sobbed, feeling his hands push your legs up to your chest and hammered himself in your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him while he pounded into you, hiding yourself in his neck. The bed creaked below you two, sheets shuffling from the force of Miguel ravaging your body. Miguel rested his arm above your head and held onto your thigh, making sure you were spread open while he adjusted his position to be more comfortable while pistoning his throbbing cock. He let out small grunts and moans, nipping at your neck and being careful with his fangs. With his dick hitting a different spot, you wrapped your legs around his waist to push him deeper. It seemed like even with him stretching your walls and splitting you apart, it was never enough–you wanted more. In the pit of your stomach, you knew you needed to have something more. His fucking was still mind-blowing, his talons gently poking your plush thighs and balls slapping rhythmically to the sounds of your whimpers and cries, which he adored. “So pretty, you sing so pretty for me,” He murmured, choking on his own pleasure as he felt you gushing around him just from the sheer ecstasy that coursed through your veins. “So tight and so warm—oh, god–” He groaned, picking up pace that had you squealing and clenching around him. “Lemme fill this pretty pussy, hm? Can I? Hm?” He moaned, trailing his wet lips down your chest to latch onto your nippled again, His tongue flicking the perky nub and pulling it between his teeth.

“Yes, yes, yes–God, yes–please!” You wailed, your hands scratching his shoulder blades and digging into his skin for purchase while you bucked in time with his thrusting. You eyes rolled back then closing them to focus on the way his cockhead was slamming into your sweet spot at just the pace you liked. You felt Miguel suck on your nipple, switching to the other side to give it equal amounts of attention. You shuttered and cried his name, finally feeling the dam break inside you. “Miguel!” Your vision going white and the euphoria of it washing over your body while you felt your pussy cum all over his length and squeezing him. Miguel let out a guttural groan deep from his throat when he felt you cum and clamp around him. Your cum slicked his cock and pelvis, and he then went faster to reach his own orgasm. You thrashed under him, feeling incredibly sensitive while he kept slapping against your pussy and pounding inside your walls. You moaned that you were just too sensitive, tears collecting at your eyes from overstimulation. He let go of your nipple and kissed you quickly to stop your whining. He lifted his head to watch you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto him tightly and whimpering. His eyes were bewitched with the scene of your tits bouncing, bite marks littered across the plump flesh. His eyes scanning down to see your slick making a mess between your legs after cumming, the way small strings connected to his person. But the sight of his massive cock sliding easily inside your pussy, your folds welcoming him by wrapping around him–he snapped from within and came hard. Miguel quickly grabbed the sheets so his talons could rip through them instead of you, his body curling as he let out a final groan and his cock spurted his seed in you. He continued to pump his load, feeling his cock soften and twitch out the rest of himself in strings of salty cum–a white ring forming on the base of his dick. He huffed, shaking as he made sure all of his cum stayed inside you. When he pulled out, a small white string connected from his tip to your pussy, slipping apart when he was far away enough. He watched the mess between your legs for a moment, breathing heavily as his seed oozed out of your folds and his heart began to beat a little bit faster.

Miguel carefully lifted himself off the bed to go to the bathroom and returned with a towel to clean between your legs. He carefully wiped your clean, being extra careful around your abused pussy. He watched you to make sure you weren’t in any discomfort, but you nearly fell asleep with how gentle he was. Miguel tossed the soiled towel into his hamper and slid back into bed with you. He brought you into his chest while he laid on his back, and he brought his covers up to your chin. You wrapped yourself around him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, a strange comforting silence in the air. That is, until Miguel broke it.

“Miggy?” He asked. You grunted, still half-asleep and barely conscious.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, thinking it was rude of you to call him something so casually. Miguel huffed and looked down at you, his other hand petting your hair back.

“No, no. I didn’t mind. It was cute,” He smiled even if you couldn’t see it. “Do you…think you could stay?” He asked hesitantly.

His question made you wake up, the tone had gone a little serious but you knew what he meant. “I can’t,” You whispered and you felt his chest deflate. You felt horrible but you knew better than to stay in a dimension that wasn’t yours. “But…maybe I could come back?” You offered.

Miguel stiffened and you heard his heart beating faster. “Really?” You nodded and snuggled against his chest.

“I can’t stay but it’s not against the rules to visit other dimensions.”

Miguel scoffed at the mention of rules but if he got to see you again then that’s all that matters. “Will you go in the morning?” He asked, hoping you’d say no.

“I think I’ll stay a while.” You murmured sleepily and Miguel grinned to himself, letting you sleep peacefully in his arms.

While you had fallen asleep in the comforting arms of your boss’ variant, you failed to notice the shutter of your watch clicking off from a call.

Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society and the one who had been looking for you all this time, was sitting alone in his office panting heavily. Sweat accumulated on his forehead and thighs, a hue of crimson across his cheeks as he let go of his softening cock. Splatters of his cum, drenched his hand and desk and he groaned realizing what he had done.

He hadn’t meant to spy on you and your intimacy with whoever you wanted. He wasn’t expecting to hear from you after losing you on a mission, much less moaning his name. At first, he was relieved that you were alive and was about to speak until you squealed his name so sweetly. Miguel froze, wondering if you somehow got home and didn’t tell him. Whatever you did on your time was yours, but you were calling out to him. Eventually he learned it wasn’t him, but a different version. He debated whether to click out or not but some sick and twisted emotion inside him reveled in the way you begged and writhed underneath his variant.

Miguel had phased his hardening cock out of his suit and began pumping it slowly in time with his variants thrusts. He focused solely on you rather than the man that looked nothing like him. Another sick thought in his head wished his variant looked more like him, so he could imagine himself fucking you properly. Miguel made sure he was muted as he grunted and cursed under his breath, muttering praises to you in Spanish he knew you couldn’t hear. He made sure to edge himself, wanting to cum when he heard you scream his name. He bursted a fat load onto himself and the desk as you cried out your orgasm, watching you throw your head back and clutch onto his variant while you shook violently around his cock.

He grit his teeth, jealousy brewing in his heart at how hard you came. He could do better.

Once his mind had cleared up, he blushed heavily, shame overcoming his previous desires and covered his face. Despite being alone, he felt someone watching–which was hypocritical given what he had done. Before he ended the call, he traced your coordinates to find where you had been stranded all this time. Tomorrow, he’d find you and get you back.

A/N: i'm a proud lover of all versions of miguel !!!!! please be patient for part 2 🙏

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

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the-white-void · 24 days

Text

"You have heard the Story."

Synopsis: A Play that was acted over and over again has finally reached a stir in script, changing the events that were supposed to happen. Will this Play finally lead to a happy ending? Or lead the play to the same script as before?

Warning: This contains mentions of violence, killings, torture, and repetitive deaths which may be uncomfortable to some readers.

One || two || three || four || five...?

Taglist: @kthehoeforfictionalmen @pix-stuff @kthehoeforfictionalmen @time-shardz @scarletttcroww @mysteriaqueen @atsukawolfcat @junkoslette @mefOrgOr @altheqo @obliviousariies2007 @mmeatt @quacking-simp @amnervous

Dreams are the manifestation of oneself. Made from desire,experience, trauma, and hate. Many things can warp the mind to elude the creature into a dream; one too familiar to let go, or the pain to make them reform. Dreams are a curious thing. It's been a long time since you dreamt. A feeling all too distant since then. 'What did dreams feel like? How do dreams make one feel?" Questions surged through your thoughts while sitting inside a cold and desolate cell.

"Why are these questions coming to me now?" You wondered as you gazed up at the ceiling, eyes wandering at every crack and fragment dangling from the stone before a loud clang echoed cutting your thought.

The sound was made when a guard thrust his sword at the bars. "Quiet fraud!!! This world doesn't need your corrupt thoughts out loud!" The guard sneered as he pulled his blade. back to its sheath.

Brushing off the guard's words, you stepped closer to the bars with a sly grin while leaning closer. "Hey, do you know how dreaming feels? It's been a while since I've had one." Yet the innocent act was returned with a clang banging into the bars.

"I said quiet fraud!!! You better shut your mouth if you know what's good for you." The guard's voice came aloud, echoing through the dungeon halls. Your face remained unchanged and unfazed by his threat, simply smiling, but yet the tone of your grin became unsettling, leaving a cold sweat down the once threatening guard.

"You know... I prefer my questions to have answers." Your tone of voice was sickly sweet, enough to come off as poison. Your eyes drew closer to the guard, your gaze piercing through his haughty façade. "Now tell me. What is it like to dream?". The guard quickly turned his back away to face you, still, he could feel his mind weighing over him as he felt his body slowly fading from his control, with your question burdening his whole being.

"What is it like to dream?"

Luck graced the guarding knight as a small figure appeared to interfere. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" A young and squeaky voice came as the figure came closer revealing itself as the Dendro Archon, along with another person wearing an expansive hat.

"Wait, Buer" the short man with a big hat came off surprised when the Dendro Archon suddenly dashed off to help the guard. Your smile faded as you saw the Archon come closer before returning, but with a different reason for grinning, then releasing the guard from his agony as he fell to his knees before hitting the ground.

While Kusanali focused her attention on the guard as Wanderer had his eyes on you, wary of your intentions as you had the guts to impersonate a being of another plane. "Why are you trying to act like a god? That won't get you anything." He sneered while keeping his distance. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at him. "That's very rich coming from someone who tried to become a god." You teased as you lay your bum on the floor with your legs crossed, giggling at your little joke.

Your short statement made the Wanderer's blood run cold, if he had any. Ever since her erased himself from Irminsul, no one else other than the traveller, Paimon, and Bier could have known, yet, some imposter knew that. "How did you..." The Dendro Archon overhead you and Hat Guy's little exchange and came over with a tinge of fear behind her face brimming with courage. "How did you know all that? Ever since he was removed from Irminsul, no one should have known about that."

Your smile was unchanging as you looked up to her and giggled. "Tehehe... Maybe you could try guessing-" your voice leaving a little teasing tone as your eyes remain on the young Archon.

The Dendro Archon remains unmoving, her eyes still as untainted waters of a clear spring, the clarity deceivingly clear. "Because you've seen it before, again and again, countless times, in every loop you've experienced..." She voiced out with a tinge of pity laced in her stern facade.

Your smile was drowned out by the Lord's words, while also leaving her company confused. Standing up from your laxed form, slightly towering over the young Archon while your eyes were dead set on hers, your teasing aura vanished into a tense and trembling form. "You... remember...?" Your voice quivered as well as your eyes. Your once calm facade crumbled showing the same prey that was hunted countless times.

Walking back into the shadows that filled the cell you were locked in, turning away as thoughts and words escaped your lips in mumbles, mumbles no one else in the dungeon could understand. Facing the wall you clenched your fingers on the surface, grabbing onto what little sanity is left before madness drove your mind. "Lieslieslieslieslieslies... Even... evenifyouremember... You paused your rapid mumbling as you clenched your hands harder on the wall, breaking your nails before your blood oozed out.

Your silence filled the dungeon with a haunting flavour, like the clam before the storm, leaving the Dendro Archon and her companion uneasy. "Kusanali, we should leave this nutjob. We're not gonna get anything from them." Wanderer tries to tell his concerns, but Nahida was laser focused on getting more from you.

The silence was deafening before it was interrupted but the sound of a droplet hitting the floor, then another, and another. Your hands rested on your sides, before turning your head to the two outside your cell.

Your sudden change in form left the two alarmed as Wanderer gets in front to protect the Archon.

You were still as still a statue; in an instant, you leapt onto thern but you were stopped by the bars holding you in. Your eyes showed an insane victim conscience about freedom or a trap. "Remembering that means NOTHING!!! LIARS! You're just here to ask me SHIT aren't ya!!!" Your furious yells echoed through the hollow halls while. While your hands gripped harder on the bars, your blood continued to flow, blood of glimmering gold against the small ember of light flickering from a lamp.

"You're... The Overseer...?"

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact #sagau idea #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin fic ideas #genshin fanfic #sagau isekai #genshin x reader #genshin nahida #nahida #wanderer #kunikuzushi #gold blood au #gold blood #sagau genshin #sagau angst

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itsbubbleteataro · 2 months

Text

It's currently storming and here's a little fun fact about me, I'm terrified of thunder. So here's a little hurt comfort Drabble with a reader who's spooked during thunderstorms. Please enjoy! Ps. The next part of "The Radio Host and The Reporter" is in my drafts ∩^ω^∩

Rain Rain go Away

Paring: Alastor x Fem!reader

Warnings: possible ooc Alastor

You've never been a fan of thunderstorms. Quite unfortunate considering that when you were alive you lived in an area that tended to get hit hard by thunderstorms when they did happen. Back then Alastor didn't know this till he found you burrowed under blankets like a small mammal.

This night was no different. It was a rare night in hell and a thunderstorm was raging on outside. As soon as your doe like ears picked up on the first sign of rain, you tensed.

"Hey (y/n) you good toots?"

Angel dust asked, snapping you out if your train of thoughts. Your ears were pinned back as you managed a smile and stood up.

"Yeah Angel. I'm okay"

And with that you left. You took a very shaky breath as you walked up the stairs. Of course Alastor had left to go see Rosie a few hours ago, none of you known it would rain. You just hoped it wouldn't end up a thunderstorm.

*****

Alastor was mid sip when his ear flicked, moments before rain started pouring down. He put his tea cup back down on its saucer. His ear closest to the window kept facing it, listening for signs of thunder while he kept facing Rosie. His smile was still casual as he listened at the latest gossip Rosie had been talking about.

"Oh and Suzan came by. Still brutish as ever, came to me because she ended up eating her husband, can you bealive that?"

"Well it is Suzan Rosie, that woman even has me at the end of my rope"

Alastor's ear flicked and his grip tightened on the handle of his teacup. Moments later a blinding flash of light struck a tall tower, and a rumbling crack echoed down the streets.

His ears flicked downward and to the side for a moment before returning to their normal position. It was enough to tip off Rosie however,

"Oh go on Alastor. If you need to leave I'm sure it's important"

Rosie flashed him her usual smile, waving her hands in a shooing motion.

Alastor's eyes softened for a moment.

"Thank you Rosie. We'll have to catch up some other time. Thank you for the tea"

With that, Alastor shadow warped out of Rosie's emporium and into the lobby of the hotel. His ears flicked, the wind seemed to be stronger here and the rain pounded against the walls. A second crack of thunder seemed to shake the building.

"Oh wow this is a rough storm. I should go check on (y/n) she left a little while ago-"

"No need Charlie, I'll do it myself"

Vaggie looks up at Alastor for a moment raising an eyebrow before nodding and placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Let's go check on Angel dust instead. Does that sound good sweetheart?"

Charlie nods her head and the two of them walk down the hall, husk makes brief eye contact with Alastor before taking a bottle of cheep booze back to his room. Thunder shakes the hotel again and Alastor makes his way up the stairs. No one is around so he makes no effort in trying to conceal the urgency in his steps.

Alastor pushes open the door to your shared room, his eyes looking around for you. His ears flick as it thunders again, drawing out a whimper from within the bayou that he had materialized in his room.

Taking a blanket off the bed he walks through the bayou, going in a bit deep, following the hoof prints you had left behind. He finds you, sitting on a log, hands over your ears.

****

Shaking, you hear someone approaching. Alastor was making his movements known to you. Raising your head you look up at him, taking your hands off your ears and placing them in your lap. His eyes a softness reserved for only when the two of you were alone.

As if ok que, the crack of thunder shook the hotel, although it seemed a bit softer out in the bayou. You squeaked, curling up into a ball. Alastor sat next to you on the log. Since you've died and gained your doe like appearance, you've found that your hearing has gotten better. Your ears are pinned back in fear.

Your body uncurls itself as Alastor drapes a blanket he had gotten from the bed over your shoulders and pulled you into his lap.

"Oh my doe, my sweet doe. Come here. The thunder shouldn't last much longer"

You nod your head. The two of you spending the rest of the night in eachother's embrace while Alastor talked on and on about his day, taking your mind off the rain pounding in the only window in his room.

Soon enough you were starting to drift off to sleep in his embrace. Picking you up, he stood up with a hum. The last thing you saw before you fell into a peaceful slumber was him, smiling softly with gentle eyes,

"See my doe? I told you it would pass"

#hurt/comfort #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #x reader #(y/n)

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human-encounters-diary · 1 year

Text

Day 2

Since the Vitrichl tasked me with observing the "human", it was not surprising that I was assigned with waking the "human“ from its recharging time session. The quarters of the human were at a, for my species, tolerable pressure, so I was not required to wear a pressure regulating suit while entering.

I found the human to already be up in its cell. Its cell did not vary much from the other‘s quarters. In one corner, there was a metal cylinder with padding inside, so it was certain to assume that "humans" were one of the species that recharged by going unconscious for a certain amount of time.

The human looked up as I entered its quarters. It did not move at first, seemingly scanning me with what could possibly be their sight organs (two white spheres set in the skull, with a small brown ring in the middle, facing my general position). I could not be certain. The moment did not last long before the human raised itself to its full height. Four limbs. Bipedal, it seems.

I, urging to not offend the Terran, decided on simply asking "How was your recharging session?", something that would not usually be seen as a threat. I seemed to be correct, as the Terran opened one of the holes on its face, revealing a horrifying amount of what seemed to be teeth. But then it spoke. The translator in my internal auditory organ made a crackling sound, before immediately translating what was said. "Oh, uhm, it was alright, I just couldn’t find the light switch, so it was…kinda bright. But still, it was way better, I‘m not complaining or anything! On the prison planet, you could barely sleep because it was so loud. Everything‘s better than there. Hell, I‘d rather sleep on the cold hard ground here than go back there."

I blinked with four of my six eyes. "I am afraid I do not understand."

The human, seemingly mirroring my motion, blinked back with both of its two eyes. "Well…humans usually require it to be dark in order to get a restful sleep. Or, not require, but most prefer it."

"I see. I will look into the issue." I would have expected this offer to bring the human joy, promising to change something that was bothering it, but apparently, I was wrong.

It stepped forward, and its face suddenly warped into a horrifying grimace. Its mouth, in fact, seemed to contract in a what looked awfully painful movement, reforming its shape so that the corners seemed to point upwards. I stepped back a step, finding myself in the doorway.

But it did not attack. Instead, it raised one of its upper limbs and extended it into my direction. The ends of its limbs each had five small junctions, possibly fingers, if this species was in any way similar to any other species I have ever met. I was unsure what it wanted me to do with its extended limb, and I was careful not to act impolite towards it. Eventually, it let its limb fall to its side again. I was afraid I might have angered it, but it did not seem irritated.

"Not a shaker? Yeah, me neither, really. I‘m Quinn, by the way." It spoke again. I could not fathom what a "shaker" was supposed to be, so I decided to try a distraction method.

"A part of the crew is taking in one of their cyclic meals in the meal hall right now. I am unfamiliar with your species‘ eating habits, so I apologize if this is an insensitive request, but would you like to dine as well?"

"Oh. Sure, food sounds good." It raised and lowered the part of its body where its limbs were attached to its upper body, a gesture that I could not fathom, but I did not question it.

I went back to the meal hall, the human following me, and I showed them what to eat. The only food we regularly carry on the SIIR Noxos are different vitamin components, which, when mixed together form a not very delectable looking but nutritious gruel. This way, we can assure the nourishment of all the crew members without having to go to ridiculous lengths to get what their bodies need to keep on working.

The human seemed to share my opinion about the looks of our cyclic diet, contracting its face muscles into what seemed to be a grimace of distaste.

Nonetheless, it consumed it without further complaint, but for an odd reason it did not sit down, but rather kept standing next to the supply depot. It finished its meal rather quick, and then we parted ways, as Vitrichl required its presence.

I did not encounter the human again for the rest of the cycle, as my species usually only consume one meal per cycle, and there was a leak in one of the machinery rooms, which I had to assistance in repairing.

#space australia #earth is space australia #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are terrifying #humans in space #original work #original story #sci fi #fantasy #science fiction #less of the science more of the fiction #space outlaws #humans from an outsider perspective #day 2 #nr.2 #space orcs

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lemonlover1110 · 11 months

Text

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 20] The Search

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Satoru tries to think of where you can possibly be. Where did Suguru possibly take you? He recognized the phone’s location, and it was Suguru’s parents’ house. He parked the car to warp there, and when he appears in Suguru’s room, it’s empty. He exits the room and looks around the house, inspecting every corner. His heart races and it feels as if it’s about to beat out of his chest. He’s scared of what he’ll find– He swears that he’ll kill Suguru when he sees him. Get you somewhere safe and then kill Suguru.

He finds your phone, however, it’s just that. There’s nothing nearby that can trace back to you either, other than your phone. He warps back to his car before continuing his search, and he takes your phone since it can help him. He’s brainstorming all the possible places that Suguru has taken you, and he also realizes that he has to explain everything to Kaya.

He doesn’t know how he’ll explain everything to her while also telling her to not involve the police. But he doesn’t worry too much about that, he’s mainly worried about your wellbeing and your baby. He has to take deep breaths to calm himself down as he thinks of his next move.

He has to find you before the baby is born, he just isn’t sure if he can search every part of the world in due time. But he has to find you before Suguru does anything to you– Once the baby is born, your life hangs on by a thread; it hangs on by a thread now, he should rather say that once your baby is born, your life is over. Unless Suguru has other plans, which is also concerning.

But he’ll find you fast enough, he will. He’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing he does.

Everyday you patiently wait for Satoru to come around and rescue you. Suguru took you to the middle of nowhere to live, at least that’s what it feels like. Suguru lets you free, no restraints because you’re just too far away to get help from anyone else. Even at night, there’s someone always awake watching you, and the small house you’re in doesn’t muffle any sounds.

You learned that Suguru has two daughters– Not biological, they’re like Megumi and Tsumiki. Children that he decided to help. They’re helping him out, although you doubt that they know what they’re helping with.

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed by– Suguru drugged you before taking you elsewhere, and since then you haven’t been able to keep track of time that well. You’re sure that at least six weeks have passed though. Each minute that passes, you’re closer to giving birth, and each minute that you spend here, you’re closer to your death.

Suguru wasn’t joking, he was pretty serious. You’re sure of it. There’s no reason why he’d keep you for so long. And each moment that happens, every small pain, can suggest the end of your life and you’re extremely anxious.

“Dinner is ready.” There’s a knock on the door of your room, and you feel the same nausea that you had every single day for the first trimester of your pregnancy. He usually wants you to accompany him during dinner, but you refuse. You wait till he’s asleep to eat something, or until he’s not in the mood to accompany you.

You hold your breath until you know that there’s no one by your door. Your back lays down on the uncomfortable bed, staring at the ceiling. Each second you spend thinking about a way to escape, you work yourself up, get confident for around an hour and so, and then come crashing down. You can’t escape. You can barely keep yourself up for a couple minutes, running away would certainly be too difficult. You have nothing to do so imagining breaking free is the only thought that entertains you.

The door opens, and you lift your head to find Suguru there. He holds a tray with your food, which is a weird gesture, but you can’t exactly complain about it. You do wonder why he decides to walk into the room to bring you food, usually he lets it sit.

“You know exercising can help you induce labor.” Is the first thing he says when he steps into the room. Of course he does, he wants to get rid of you as fast as possible. You sit up and you take the tray for him. You don’t say anything. You never do. “The twins are sick so don’t be too loud tonight. No one wants to hear your crying.”

“Maybe if you let me–” You begin, and he knows exactly what you’ll say so he cuts you off.

“We’re going out tomorrow, you have to take a breath of fresh air. Enjoy nature before it’s too late.” He interrupts. You inhale and gulp. When he exits the room, you have to put the tray down elsewhere because you have no appetite.

This is all happening because you wanted to get back at Satoru. He warned you. You just assumed that he was jealous which is foolish of you.

Suguru takes you to the town that’s near the house which is almost an hour away. He tells you that he’ll buy you a dress because the only clothes you have barely fit you anymore; he’ll then take you out to eat, the last time you’ll ever go to a restaurant.

“Be out in fifteen minutes, we’ll meet you here.” Suguru says while the twins try to drag him somewhere else, and you end up nodding in response. You walk into the small shop to look for a dress that fits, which feels impossible. Especially with the little money Suguru gave you.

There’s an older woman that walks around, most likely the owner of the shop. She smiles at you and you smile back at her. You get an idea as you walk over to her and you feel your legs trembling. Your voice is shaky as you speak up, “Excuse me… Do you have a phone I can use?”

She furrows her eyebrows but ends up agreeing before she passes her flip phone. You think of a number to dial, and you curse yourself for not having any numbers memorized but your own– No one has your phone. Suguru left it there, in the first house he took you. But your thumbs still input the numbers.

You bring it up to your ear and you’re discouraged with every ring. And just as you’re about to hang up the phone, someone picks it up. You feel so relieved to hear his voice, you’ve been waiting to hear it for weeks, and you almost burst into a cry when you hear it,

“Hello?”

“Satoru– Satoru, it’s me. Listen, I don’t have long but I’m with Suguru, we’re in–” You begin, your voice low as you speak so the woman or anyone else in the store can hear, but you have to stop because you don’t know where you’re at. You have no idea. You ask the old lady where you’re at, and you relay the message to the man that’s on the other side of the phone. “If not, I’m in a small house an hour away. Please find me in time– If you don’t… Please take care of our son.”

Before he can say anything else, you hang up the phone. You can’t risk Suguru walking in and seeing you on the phone. You give it back to the lady and begin to look for the dress. You begin to look for something your size.

Without noticing, the fifteen minutes go by and Suguru steps into the store. His eyes immediately land on you and he grabs your arm. He squeezes and then whispers, “I told you fifteen minutes, didn’t I?”

“Well, I don’t have a watch. Plus nothing here seems to fit.” You respond. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

“I told you fifteen minutes, didn’t I? Why would I give you more time? Give me a reason.”

“I’ll cause a scene.” You reply. “It’s just a fucking dress, give me some more time.”

“Why couldn’t you find one in fifteen minutes?” He asks, and you bite down on your lip. Maybe because you’re only thinking about Satoru, hoping that he’ll save you in due time. Hoping that he cares enough about you to look for you. So you begin to cry, causing the scene that you promised.

“I’m so big, nothing fits!” You claim, and Suguru is almost embarrassed. The old lady looks at him and he sheepishly smiles before saying,

“Pregnancy hormones.”

And while he hopes to calm you down, the little bell that indicates that someone is in the shop, rings. You both look at it, and while you were praying for salvation, you didn’t expect it to come so soon. Suguru’s plan was almost perfect, except that he left you alone while shopping. He couldn’t take his eyes off you for a single moment.

“Step away from her, Suguru.” Satoru says, causing Suguru's grip to get stronger. He comes at the right time, and you wonder how he got here so fast but at this moment you don’t care. You dig your long nails into his hand and Suguru removes his hand as a reflex which allows you to break from his side. Maybe not being taken care of for weeks isn’t too bad– At least not in this situation. You run to Satoru’s side, and he grabs your hand. You squeeze his hand a little stronger than you intend as you feel a sharp pain on your lower abdomen for a minute.

You’re about to let go of Satoru but he pulls you in, and in a blink, you’re elsewhere.

“Satoru…” You say as you look around. You’re on the outskirts of a completely different city. This feels like a dream, a fucked up one at that. “Where are we?”

“I have to explain a lot but… I have to go take care of Suguru. Ijichi will take care of you while I do that, okay?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

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obsolescent · 2 months

Text

An Eye for an Eye

Pairing: Trans!Jill Valentine x GN!Reader

Summary: You’re a stay at home partner. You cook and clean, keeping the apartment tidy and things looked after while your partner works. Most nights, they’re out longer than they should be. You don’t buy the excuses they feed you, knowing deep down what’s occurring. One night your neighbor comes over for dinner and your suspicions are proven right, but she has quite the idea of getting them back.

Author’s Note: Coming back swinging lol. I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while (wrote this out months ago and I’ve just been staring at it). It's been at the forefront of my mind recently and I had to get it out. It got sadder than I thought it would, oof. Don’t worry, I do make up for it.

Content Warnings: Gender neutral language used for reader and your partner, trans Jill Valentine, RE5 Jill, angst, mentions of anxiety and depression, mentions of disordered eating, vomiting, cheating, distant/neglectful partner, P in V sex, revenge sex, unprotected sex.

|| Disclaimer: Jill Valentine is trans in this story. Keep your transphobic remarks to yourself and don’t read this if that bothers you. ||

The dining table is set, the plates sat upon their placemats, silverware aligned on one side, glasses of wine on the other. You had just finished cooking, plating the food and sitting in your seat, staring at the empty chair across from you.

Jaw tensed, nose scrunched as you will your useless tears away.

There’s no use in them any longer. You would’ve thought you had cried them all out after the months, after all the distance that had grown between you and your partner.

Anger, confusion, and sadness have flitted through your mind ever since this started. The emotions are undulating, leaving you riddled with anxiety and nerves shot to hell and back.

You stare down at your food, fork in hand gripped so tightly it threatens to warp. A door closing causes the fork to fall from your clutches, the utensil clattering to the table.

Your neighbor’s door.

Your gaze settles on the fixed plate at the other end of the table, the steam still rising from the freshly cooked meal.

No use in letting another meal go to waste.

You’re out of your chair and opening the door, crossing the hall. The minuscule corridor, a mere 15 feet, and a couple doors, is what separates the two of you. You rap your knuckles against the wood, listening to shuffling inside.

The light through the peephole shifts, someone gazing out into the hallway, and the door swings open.

Jill stands at the threshold, one hand holding the door and the other propped against the frame. She says your name, followed by, “Everything okay?”

You fix your posture, standing up straight and meeting her artic eyes. You take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I reckon everything’s good. Wanted to ask if you’d join me for supper?”

Jill’s face shows surprise, before her eyebrows furrow. “Your partner isn’t home again?”

You grimace. She’s noticed. Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod your head, before looking away. The feeling of being unsure of your decision to invite her over starts to seep in. Her expression softens as she smiles at you. “Sure, I’d love to.”

Your gaze moves back to her face, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she pulls the door closed, stepping into the hallway with you. The air releases from your lungs.

You give your own small smile and turn back towards your apartment, guiding her inside. You close the door while Jill removes her jacket and shoes. You make your way back to the table and she takes the seat where your partner would usually occupy.

“You caught me at a good time, I was about to start making my own dinner,” Jill says with a small laugh. You chuckle, “Well, I hope it’s as good as what you were gonna make.”

She picks up the fork and begins to eat, a noise of satisfaction leaving her lips.

“Damn, this is good. I really appreciate you for inviting me to dinner.” Face burning at the noise she made along with the praise, you nod and thank her for the compliment.

Light chatter is exchanged as the two of you eat. The discussion starts off with basic things, for her it’s her work. You, it’s what you got up to at home, which was a load of nothing today, the typical tidying up of the place and whatever else you could find to fill up the time.

Quiet falls over the apartment as the two of you focus on finishing your food. It’s a comfortable silence, one that almost has a sense of domesticity to it.

You feel some of the anxiety ebb away, the knots in your gut loosen, eased by Jill’s mere presence. It’s surprising that that’s all it takes for you to settle down, having someone in your home, even if it isn’t who’s supposed to be here.

It helps you finish your food. Most days now you feel nauseous, unable to eat full meals or much at all these days. It’s led to some weight loss these last few months since it all started, a habit you’ve noticed that occurs whenever life becomes turbulous.

Jill clears her throat, bringing you out of your thoughts to see her troubled expression.

“I…need to tell you something,” Jill starts, hands squeezing together.

Your stomach clenches, bile rising.

“O-okay, yeah,” inhaling, exhaling slowly, you nod.

She shifts in her seat, leaning forward. “I…” She shakes her head, blonde locks shifting, falling over one of her eyes. She takes a deep breath and begins speaking.

“I saw your partner, with someone else. A bar downtown.”

You stare at her, face blank.

Lips pressed into a thin line, she breaks eye contact and turns her face up, towards the ceiling.

Her hands move to grip the edges of the table, knuckles white.

“They were kissing.”

A feeling akin to a fire poker that had just been removed from the embers pierces your heart. A choked noise leaves you as your hand flies to cover your mouth.

Of course you had your suspicions, an inkling to what was happening. The way your body had been wound up these countless days that seemed to crawl by. Questions innumerable, so many you kept to yourself, for the dread that would come thereupon the answers.

Now, the truth has been revealed and it gores your soul.

Your body is making its way towards the toilet as you heave, rushing into the room. Knees slamming onto the tile, the contents of your stomach spilling into the bowl.

Jill stands, gripping the back of the chair before she follows after you, guilt striking her so hard she feels unsteady. Not knowing you would have such a visceral reaction to the news, she assumed your partner’s infidelity was known.

Now, as she walks into the bathroom and crouches beside you, laying a comforting hand on your back as your weeping saturates the room, rage replaces the regret. Jill puts that anger on hold to help you regain your composure, assisting you in getting back on your feet and leaving you be as you clean yourself up.

She shuts the door to the bathroom and props herself up against the wall across from you, in thought. Ideas begin to form. Of course, she’d go over them with you once you’ve calmed down, but for now she lets herself brainstorm.

Jill, a woman who hates injustice, cheaters, and liars, especially ones who don’t see how good they have it, is irate. But also, still taken aback.

She remembers that night at the bar, out with Chris after work, when she had been doing her typical scan of the place, securing potential exits when her head had snapped back towards one area so hard she felt like she’d given herself whiplash.

There, she had seen your partner with another person, all over each other. It wouldn’t have been an understatement to say the two were literally “sucking faces”. She grimaced and turned away, having seen enough with just a single glance. Chris had seen where Jill’s gaze had landed and whistled low, chuckling. “Damn, just going at it in public like that.”

Jill groaned, hand cupping her forehead as she propped her elbow on the bar’s counter. “That’s my neighbor’s partner…with someone else.” She had mentioned you before to him, about how kind you had treated Jill, and had confessed to having a crush on you. She had also mentioned how odd your partner’s patterns were, but after a glance at the romantic exchange taking place across the bar, it all made sense.

Chris sucked in a breath between his teeth, a hissing sound while he also cringed.

“Fuck, you gonna tell ‘em?” He asked, finishing off his glass, the ice clinking together as he set it back down. “Of course I am. They deserve a shit ton better than that. I just…don’t know how I’m going to do it.” Jill says, rubbing her temple. Chris hummed and patted Jill’s shoulder, “The right time will come.”

Indeed, it had. Jill had been lost in the memory until you opened the bathroom door, face blotchy and sniffling still. “Hey,” she said softly, leaving her perch against the wall and guiding you into the living room to sit on the couch. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” She asks, “I’m here for you, whatever you need,” Jill pats your arm while she speaks, hoping to soothe you.

You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I…guess I shouldn’t be surprised?” You start, wincing at the crack in your voice, throat raw. Jill nods, urging you to continue. “I knew there was something going on, I just ignored it. Didn’t want to face the truth,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut at the new wave of emotions. You grip at your arms, grounding yourself.

“What would I even do if we split up? I don’t work, don’t have a career, and I’m far away from home.” Panic rises and your breathing quickens, a sickening realization washing over you. “I ignored it because…I—“ you suck in a harsh breath, “I thank you, Jill, for telling me, but…” you trail off, avoiding her gaze. “There’s not anything I can do.”

“Bullshit.”

It leaves Jill’s mouth before she can register it.

You blink, meeting her icy gaze. Your mouth opens to respond, but Jill continues, “Of course there’s something you can do, there always is.” She grabs your hand and squeezes it.

Your eyes remain glued to your entwined grip.

Jill bites her lip, an answer on her tongue. Fuck it.

“Get them back.”

Your brain lags for a moment, confusion painting your face, not registering her response before your mouth opens into an “O”, eyes fixated on where you’re connected.

Is she…insinuating what I think she is?

Jill inhales and begins speaking once more, “It seems like your partner can’t, or doesn’t want to leave, either. If that’s the case, then why not play them at their own game?”

Your mouth snaps shut, biting your lip as you think on her words.

“So…give them a taste of their own medicine?” You ask.

Jill nods, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Are you…wanting to help?”

Well, that’s out there.

You feel Jill stiffen beside you, and regret immediately fills you.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought that earlier when you said–and when you–”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Jill cuts you off and your mouth hangs open, words halting in their tracks.

She clears her throat and shifts, turning towards you some more, thumb running over the skin covering your knuckles.

Jill had grown an infatuation for you. Unfortunate due to you being married, but how could she not? Always going out of your way to help your neighbors, her included. Your kindness didn’t stop there. Overflowing into the streets below, to anyone and anything. One time she caught you feeding the stray animals that would wander by the complex, your generosity knows no limits. But knowing you had a spouse, she would never infringe on you and your partner’s relationship. But now…

Jill typically wouldn’t help someone cheat, never. But…

“An eye for an eye.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, taking the other in. The two of you capturing miniscule details neither had the time to see before.

Jill speaks once more, clearing her throat.

“Now, we don’t have to do anything right now, only when you’re comfortable and ready to, if you even want to later on–” she begins to pull herself away from your hold but you grip her tighter, drawing her closer.

“Wait!” Your voice raised, Jill’s eyes widened slightly at your reaction.

“Just, wait…I want to, now. Don’t…let go of me, please.”

Jill allows you to keep her close, fingers entwining.

“You’re very pretty,” you murmur, eyes taking long sweeps over the contours of her face. She blushes, happy to know you find her attractive, like she does you.

“Hey,” Jill starts, a whisper. “Let’s go over to my place, if that’s okay with you? No chance of…disruptions.”

You nod, letting her guide you to the front door, stopping to grab her belongings. The two of you cross the short distance from your door to her’s, and Jill locks the door once you’re inside.

We’re here, in her house to…This is really happening.

You glance over what you can see so far, a living room and kitchen, same layout as your own, but a lot more scarce in terms of personalization.

Jill watches you take everything in, the feeling of self-consciousness blooming.

She begins to fidget with her hands. You look over at her, taking in her change in demeanor and walk over to her, touching her arm. “Hey, I think it’s lovely,” you say with a smile that melts away any doubt in Jill.

She chuckles, rubbing her own arm, “Would’ve done some decorating if I’d known you’d be coming over. Buy some flowers, light some candles…” Jill trails off, feeling a bit awkward. She’s never done something like this before. She’d had sex before, one night stands here and there, but hardly had time for a relationship with her work.

This would be the first in a long time if this became more than an act of revenge against an unfaithful lover.

You could sense it as well, mixing in with your own doubts. Jill takes a deep breath and takes your hands in hers.

She says your name, “Why don’t we start off slow, okay? See where it goes?” She suggests, leading you to the couch. “Yeah,” you say while nodding, settling down while she walks back towards the kitchen, the soft sounds of her rummaging through her cabinets meeting your ears before Jill’s back with two wine glasses and a bottle.

She sets the items down on the coffee table before grabbing the bottle and pouring equal amounts into each glass, before handing one to you. You thank her and take a sip, the dry taste of merlot washing over your taste buds.

Jill’s free hand clasps your own, her thumb rubbing reassuringly over your knuckles. Once more, the sourness of betrayal bubbles up in the back of your throat, and you try to subdue the taste with a mouthful of wine.

Setting the glass down, you relax into the couch, latching onto Jill’s arm while your head settles on her shoulder. Her warmth seeps into you while you take in the smell of her, fresh laundry mixed with a hint of some fruit you can’t quite identify.

Following your lead, Jill relaxes alongside you, her head coming to rest upon yours. Tendrils of her blonde hair dangle in your eyesight, and the smell of eucalyptus mixes with the other scents.

You inhale, breathing her in. Jill’s head turns and she leaves a kiss upon your hair. Her lips remain against your head, strands of your own hair sticking to her face, her lips. Jill’s arm reaches over your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

She hasn’t felt the touch of someone else in a long time.

Jill savors this, this closeness. Its significance is all that more unique since it’s you in her presence, in her embrace, finally being here in her own place. A sigh leaves her and she grips you tighter.

You, on the other hand, are alight. From the moment her fingers grip your side, her nails slightly digging in as she pulls you close, all at once arousal shoots through your body. The feeling careening through your blood and tingling your skin.

God, you haven’t been touched like that in…Months.

The realization brings forth a flood of emotions, tears edging along your lashes. A choked noise leaves you before you can suppress it and Jill jerks back, her hand cupping the side of your face to turn it towards her, eyes widening with apprehension.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something that made you uncomfortable? You can tell—“

“No!”

The word choked out of your mouth as you pulled her back to you.

“Please, don’t stop touching me,” you beg.

Her face softens, “Oh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it?” The question leaves Jill, now comprehending your reaction to her touch.

You nod. Jill brings her hands up, holding your face.

“Yeah. Me, too,” she whispered.

You meet in the middle, lips melding together.

Noises created simultaneously at the unity long in creation, neither one of your grasps on the other faltering.

Desperation fills the two of you, pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes, the yearning to be as close as possible overwhelming both of your senses. You find yourselves laying across the couch, Jill’s heat engulfing you.

“Fuck,” Jill grits out between a reprieve for breath, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long. Wish I could come home to you everyday.” Her rambling is like honey to your heart, sweetness pouring in to make it full once again.

“I need you, please, Jill,” you whine, guiding her hand underneath your clothing, her hand cupping your pussy through underwear, the crotch coated with wetness.

“God damn,” Jill moans out, feeling your clit jump at her touch, rock hard.

Your hips lift to meet her touch, seeking more of that divine feeling. You feel her own hardness pressing against your inner thigh, her hips rocking against your plush skin.

“I gotta, fuck, need to,” she rambles once more, hastily undressing you from the waist down, exposing your cunt to her.

Jill bites her lip, hands holding your legs at the back of your knees, pushing your legs apart to have a good look.

You hide your face, biting your lip and she gazes upon your sex, only the second person to do so.

One hand travels down, and Jill takes her thumb and pulls at one side of your lips, opening your hole up and seeing how wet you’ve become by so little.

“Can I taste you?” Jill asks, nearly begs, her voice higher pitch, akin to a whine.

You nod, a yes leaves your lips and not a second more is Jill’s mouth latched onto you, tongue dragging up your folds and sucking your clit into her mouth.

The feeling claws through you and a cry claws its way out as your back arches, and Jill pushes your knees up against your chest, angling your pussy to her desire.

Your fingers interlock with her silken strands, pulling as her mouth works along you, her moans of pleasure at just merely tasting you sending jolts along your spine.

‘Oh God, she’s so fucking good at this’ is the last coherent thought in your mind before two of her fingers slide in and immediately hit the most sublime spot.

Your brain, full of static now as she crooks her fingers and bobs her head, your eyes rolling back.

Jill milks your cunt, squirting onto her face as she encourages you, “Fuck yeah, baby.” “Keep going.” “So good for me.” “Let it all out.”

Your thighs twitch, a sign you’re close. Like a mantra, you’re begging her to “Keep going please I’m so close oh God I’m about to cum!”

She pulls away with a pop, her fingers leaving simultaneously with her mouth. You’re about to scream before she interrupts, “No, not yet. I want you to cum around my cock.”

Oh Lord. You snap your head up as she rips her shirt and bra off, unzips her pants. Pushing her panties down, her dick springs free.

You whimper at the sight, your hips having a mind of their own as they lift off the cushion towards her.

Jill groans at the image of your body, yearning for her’s. She grabs your thighs, pulling you down towards her once more.

She guides her cock to your entrance, dragging it through the mess you’ve made, prodding at your throbbing clit.

You’re sobbing at the point, nails biting into her upper arms as you beg her to slide inside you, but she seems to be having a lot of fun teasing you. Where did that earlier desperation go?

You know what’ll bring it back.

“Jill, please,” you cry, “Make me yours.”

A choked noise comes from her throat, body going rigid at your words.

“Oh fuck, you’re mine. Say it,” Jill growls out, her tip beginning to press into you.

“Yours, all yours, Jill!”

She slides all the way to the hilt, her hips flush against your ass, the two of you exclaiming at the feeling of one other.

You bask in the glory of being one, savoring the way her cock throbs inside you, and Jill at the way you clench against her.

You move as one, her pulling back and thrusting in, moans punched out of you both.

Skin smacking against each other echoes throughout Jill’s apartment. You pull her closer, lips colliding and teeth clacking together, messy and fervent, tongues tangled.

Jill’s hand reaches between, fingers seeking out and grabbing hold of your clit, rubbing in time with her plunging into your pussy.

The familiar twitching is back, and you beg her to keep going, to please let me cum this time I need it so bad please give it to me!

“Cum for me baby, look at me when you fall apart.”

And you do.

Your orgasm pulsates throughout your body, wave after wave of rapture sings through your veins as you hold her gaze and yell her name, legs trembling in her grip.

Your falling apart is her undoing, her movements faltering as her climax cascades over her senses. She chokes out your name, her eyes never leaving yours as her cum fills you, leaking out around your connection.

You pull her down on top of you, holding on to her tightly. She holds you back just as much, forehead against yours.

You ease back to earth together, gulping in as much air as possible. Jill kisses your cheek, your nose, your lips. You sigh and begin to grin, looking up at her.

Jill’s heart skips a beat.

Your cheeks are stained with the blood that flooded them, hair in disarray, sweat making your skin look dewy and shine under the light of the lamp.

God, you’re lovely.

Your eyes flutter, lips part. Oh, that was said aloud.

“Uh, sorry I meant to say that to myself, didn’t mean to—“

You sit up and pull Jill into a kiss, one full of passion and maybe something more, a promise.

Jill sits up and slips out of you, thankful she has leather seats as she sees the mess left behind from your lovemaking.

Lovemaking. It echoes through Jill’s mind.

She helps you up and guides you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub and grabbing a cloth to wash the two of you off.

Once cleaned off, she picks you up and lays you down with her against silken sheets, the blue of them contrasting with her eyes.

Limbs tangled, the two of you lay on your sides facing another, taking in each other once more.

Jill cups your cheek, asking, “Was that good revenge sex?”

You laugh and nod, “Absolutely wonderful,” you say, turning to kiss her palm.

Jill pauses for a moment, searching your eyes as she says your name.

“Can it be more than that?”

Your eyes widen, surprised by her question.

“I…want it to be. I really do,” you whisper, your own hand reaching out to her, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Then let it. This doesn’t have to be a one time thing. We can go slow, whatever you need. You deserve someone who cares, who wants you, who desires you.” Her words leave her mouth with confidence, her face reflecting the same emotion,

Your heart aches at her words. You don’t know when things went wrong with your spouse, but this here, with Jill, feels so right.

“Stay with me,” Jill says.

You nod, “‘m not leaving,” you reply, burying your face into her neck.

Jill smiles, kissing your head.

“Good.”

#this was 12 pages in my docs that's crazy #hope ya'll missed me as much as i missed ya'll #o fics #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x you #jill valentine x gn!reader #jill valentine smut #trans jill valentine #jill valentine #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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abiiors · 10 months

Text

haunt // bed - epilogue

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

a/n: i genuinely hope this is a suitable ending, i really do.

minors dni!! part 1, part 2, part 3

wc: 1.8k

what now? the first words to echo in your head as soon as matty pulls away.

your dress is still pooled around your feet, on the floor of the dusty closet. he’s barely undressed, only dishevelled but you’re completely naked and covered in red marks. vulnerable in front of your ex once again.

none of you know what to say. do you tell him this was a mistake? was it? your chest feels hollow and your body stings now that the overwhelming feelings of desire have worn away. everything feels warped and out of place.

matty bends down to pick up the dress and holds it in front of you.

“we should…” he trails off, sounding like he’s speaking from another room. “you should get dressed.”

you look at the dress like it’s a foreign object but take it out of his hands quickly. putting it back on is just as easy as it was to slip out of it. but the zipper at the back… your arms twist at an awkward angle, fingers straining to reach the damned thing.

“turn around,” matty says, guessing your predicament within seconds. it surprises you that there are no feelings of hesitation, nothing telling you to defy him just to piss him off.

it’s a long zipper, starting at the base of your spine. and his hands are warm as they ghost over the sensitive skin. he takes his own sweet time, swiping your hair to one side, warm fingers brushing the nape of your neck so tenderly that you almost feel a shiver go down your spine. his breath fans over your ear.

the sound echoes in the quiet room. after all the moans and grunts and cries, the sound of a zipper should not be deafening. but it lingers in the room far longer than it should, refuses to leave like an unwelcomed guest, making a home for itself in the awkward little crevices.

all in all, zipping up the dress takes two seconds but you almost find yourself relishing the tenderness of his actions, closing your eyes involuntarily so that your mind focuses only on him, his closeness.

“now what?” you ask. it slips out really, almost a helpless question. his hand stills in place, the other coming up to your waist. your voice is desperate to your own ears, pathetic and small. your brain screams at you to amend it. “i can’t go out looking like this. everyone will know—”

“i’ll get you your bag,” he interrupts, already moving towards the door “tell me where it is.”

it’s still in the bridal suite and one of the bridesmaids would have the keys. but what happens when matty steps out and you are left here alone? you know the second one of you leaves the room, the spell will be broken. he will step out into the real world and you will be forgotten like a child’s dream. it’s a silly thought, yet it worms its way in and lodges itself firmly in your brain, makes panic surge up all over your body.

“don’t…” the word spills out of you, a desperate little whisper. you immediately scrunch your eyes shut looking away. anywhere but at him.

don’t what… you have no idea how that sentence is supposed to end. don’t go? don’t get my bag?

matty’s hand stills on the doorknob, his shoulders tensing up. this is it, you realise, the big fight, the last one. the last fuck just happened…why not the last fight?

“so now what?” he repeats your question back to you and raises an eyebrow when you shrug. matty laughs drily. “you don’t want me to go but you don’t want me to stay? is that it?”

“why did we do this?” it’s an abrupt question, one that seems to take him back. “why…fuck. matty, you’ve got a girlfriend out—”

“grace is not my girlfriend,” he interrupts sternly. “she’s my date. sometimes we fuck.”

it’s crude, to the point. and instead of jealousy or disgust, it makes a warmth spread in your stomach.

grace is not my girlfriend.

“you didn’t bring a date,” he points out.

“i thought…i thought it would be cruel.” the words are bubbling up at the surface, fighting to come out all at once.

“why?” his hand slips away from the doorknob, his feet seem to move of their own accord. he’s walking towards you, you realise. almost in a daze, like a moth to a flame. “you knew i was bringing one. charli would have told you.”

“she did,” you retort. “turns out i’m not the bitch you thought i was, huh…”

he’s standing in front of you now, back where he was at the beginning of all of this. even in the dimly lit room, his eyes seem bright, full of an emotion you can’t place. or rather, don’t want to place. because you know what it is. you know how he still feels. you think back to that day in his car, the day you told him never to contact you again and threw your lawyer’s information in his face.

he seems to be thinking along those exact same lines.

“punch me if it makes you feel better,” he laughs, reaching for your hand again. his grip is softer this time, a caress. his laugh sounds heavy, like there are tears clogging up his throat. and you feel something damp on your face.

this can’t be happening right now. this was supposed to be a quick fuck. you can’t be giving into old feelings right now. still, you can’t resist lifting your hand up to his face. a small chuckle slips out—his stubble feels exactly how you’d imagined it. he turns his face slightly, lips pressing against your palm. it’s his habit, you remember it. a year’s worth of time hasn’t made it go away.

“can i still hit you, break your nose, beat you black and blue?” it surprises you that you can joke about it now. even more so when matty laughs along. it makes a tear slip out the corner of his eyes, landing right on your palm.

he closes his eyes tightly, causing more tears to leak out.

“there’s so much, matty…so much we’ve both done and said to each other. this won’t make it go away.”

“i know,” he nods.

“it feels like a chasm.”

his chest heaves, trying to stifle the sob, failing at it anyway. this is happening, like it or not, you’re in a dusty closet, crying and confessing your feelings to your ex-husband. this is a mess, all of it. how did you even get here in the first place?

“even if we start all over again…”

“we’d still end up right here.” he finishes. “maybe in another ten years,” he laughs weakly, “maybe at ross’ wedding.”

matty’s arms come around you, encasing you in them. it’s a hug, a simple and sweet hug, but it makes the dam break. sobs wrack your body, pathetic and childlike; sobs that you stifle in his chest.

“i used to have dreams you know?” he says, softly rubbing your back, “after the divorce. for months. dreams where you were still my wife. all we did was held hands and sat tangled up on the sofa. nothing more, ever.” he pauses, almost as if he’s letting the memory of those dreams wash over him. all the while, his arms stay around you, letting you cry in them.

“but i always woke up alone. the first few times, i looked for you all over the house. spent ten minutes searching all over, before remembering…”

you can picture it so clearly—him sleepily trudging down the stairs, calling out your name, softly at first and then with increasing intensity until it finally clicks in his brain while he’s standing in the dark living room, looking at nothing. or maybe when he’s mid-step, at the bottom of the stairs.

“and what did you do?” you ask “after you remembered.”

he shrugs. “i’d go back to bed and hope that i dreamt of you again.”

it’s a simple answer. you know there’s more he isn’t telling you, more that he doesn’t need to. because you can fill in the blanks on your own and it only makes you sob harder.

matty buries his face in your hair and you can hear his soft sniffles. “come back…”

two words that are heavy enough to make your heart stop.

“you said we’d end up here again,” you point out helplessly.

“i’d do it all over again if it’s with you.”

it’s such a grand romantic notion, a stupid notion.

“i can’t go through this again, matty. i can’t…i–it would kill me.”

he grabs your chin, gingerly tilting it until you’re looking into his eyes. they’re red-rimmed, glassy. you see the pain in them, the hope, the love, and everything in between. you see him trying to smile and failing.

he reaches for your mouth. it’s a soft kiss, full of every unsaid thing between the two of you. a kiss full of longing and begging. you can taste his tears on his lips, and the lingering taste of you still.

“we can start slow,” he offers and a pleading note enters his voice, “just as friends.”

a sardonic, hopeless laugh bubbles up in your chest. “i can’t be friends with you, love.” you speak against his mouth, foreheads touching each other’s.

“so what now,” he breathes softly. you’ve asked each other the same question three times and yet there’s no answer to it.

“now i leave,” you say, “i text charli that i’m not feeling well, and then i go home…”

“or you could stay,” he contradicts, “we could—we could stay here. or—or leave together. we could—”

“and then what?”

“come home to me, just one more time,” matty pleads. “just once. we don’t have to do anything, just…we can just sleep. one night.”

it’s so easy for him to say. fuck, he makes it sound like the most natural thing in the world. the logical next step. go home to him like you’ve done a million times before, and maybe you could do it one more time. what’s one more…

you mull it over.

just one night.

what happens when one night turns into one more day, then just one more time, the real last time, and then another one. what happens when you can’t stop the cycle?

matty smiles. there’s no fallen angel there any more, only a man. someone you once loved, someone you still love. and deep down you know, he’s someone you’ll always love.

just one night. that’s the offer.

“one night…” you echo unsurely.

you feel his smile when he goes in for a second kiss, you feel his quiet, tentative joy. it’s a deep kiss that lingers on your lips for a long time after. even after he breaks away and leaves behind intoxicating sparks. even after he steps away to look at you properly.

“one last time,” matty says and offers you his hand.

seriously tho, thank you so much for reading it and sticking around and sending me all your comments, asks, reblogging with so many nice things. it means the world to me <33

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tennessoui · 10 months

Text

democratic fic part one

here she is!!!! as a quick refresh, i posted a poll of fic prompts and asked everyone to vote as to which one i would write. the prompt that won (by a pretty narrow margin) is "GFFA universe, reverse age, Sith apprentice Obi-Wan and Senator Anakin". this is ~3k to set everything up, and i'll post two polls later today that will guide the next part of the fic! i'll pin a post with links to all ficlets and polls to my front page for the time the story runs, so people can find things easily - please enjoy and, when the polls are up, please vote!!!

(3k)

The chancellor’s secretary types every letter of every word with deliberate intent, methodical and precise. Each time her finger hits a key, a loud clunk reverberates around the quiet front office.

Anakin is sure that the secretary tampered with it somehow to make it so loud. He has no idea as to why a person would do such a thing, but she had to have.

Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk.

Anakin hadn’t slept well last night. He’s been nursing the beginnings of a headache since dawn, and it’s only gotten worse as the day drags on. All of his kindness and patience was spent before he even stepped foot into the Senate building, and the chancellor’s secretary is currently dancing on his last nerve with each kriffing clunk of her type-writer.

The air around him—the Force—warps and shivers. Anakin’s headache blooms into itself properly, and he gives into the urge to rub at his temples with one hand. Of all the days for the Chancellor to request his presence for afternoon lunch, it had to be this one, when all Anakin actually wants to do is find a dark area and lie down.

The Force trembles again, reverbrating around the small waiting room with such intensity that Anakin straightens, skin crawling. It’s like the Force is screaming at him in a language he doesn’t speak.

He’s on edge, but he doesn’t know why.

Stars, he doesn’t need a fancy lunch with the chancellor. He needs a dark room to take cover in and Force-suppression cuffs locked on his wrists so he can focus on something other than nebulous, useless warnings.

And he needs this blasted headache to subside, or someone’s going to—

“Excuse me,” a soft voice breaks the stillness of the room, and—miracle upon miracles—makes the clunk of the type-writer halt. “Is this the Chancellor’s office?”

The Force rings one final time and then goes quiet, like it’s disappeared all together.

“Yes,” the secretary tells the newcomer. “But he’s currently in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?”

Anakin closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. It’s not a posture befitting that of a Senator of his stature or age, but he’s weary down to his bones.

“I don’t, no,” the soft voice says, something like amusement curling around the syllables. There’s the rustle of fabric, and then the quiet sound of fingers tapping against the edge of the secretary’s desk. “Actually, I believe my grandfather is currenttly meeting with him. I was asked to join at the end to introduce myself. What benefit the Chancellor will receive by meeting a failed Jedi and boy from Serenno, I hardly know, but my grandfather is an ambitious man. At least when it comes to his grandson.” The speaker lets out a small laugh, more breath than sound. It makes the secretary giggle.

Anakin hadn’t known they were capable of making that sound. She hasn't so much as smiled at Anakin before, and he sees her several times a week.

He rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes a crack to look at the newcomer.

Ah.

Well, that explains the giggle.

There’s a boy leaning against the secretary’s desk, head tilted as he dimples down at her. He’s tucked a piece of his auburn hair behind his ear so that his profile is unobstructed to Anakin’s gaze. More of the strands cascade to his shoulder, shining red-gold in the light of the waiting room. His eyes are a pale blue, his skin pale as well. His nose is narrow and proud, but it’s his smile that’s most mesmerizing. That or the twinkling of gold jewelry wrapped through his hair, dangling from his ear and neck. Gold powder is smeared across his eyelids and over his cheeks.

Whatever he may say, the boy does not look like just a boy from Serenno. And he certainly looks as far from a Jedi as it’s possible to be.

Poor girl, Anakin thinks with a slight smirk of his own as he lets his eyes fall closed again. If he were ten years younger and the boy was staring at him like that, he thinks he’d be similarly affected.

“May I have your name?” the secretary asks. “I’ll comm the Chancellor.”

“Oh, thank you,” the boy murmurs. “That would be quite superb.”

Superb. Honestly.

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he adds. “My grandfather is Count Dooku.”

“Yavi,” the secretary gives her own name, even though Kenobi had not asked. She sounds incredibly winded.

“Pleasure,” Kenobi tells her; there’s a slight shift in his tone, its volume, like he’s turned his head. The Force trembles. “I’ll wait here. Do me a favor though: if they sound like they’re still talking about tax exemptions and resource management for Serenno, spare me, please. I’d rather sit out here with the lovely company than in there listening to two old men arguing about water law.”

The secretary giggles once more and resumes typing, this time probably typing out the comm number of the Chancellor.

Soft steps signal that Kenobi has taken his leave of the secretary.

Fabric whispers as the air shifts slightly and the boy settles into the seat next to him.

Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk.

“I was including you when I spoke of the lovely company in this room, sir,” the boy says softly, just for him.

“Do you always flirt with everyone you meet?” he asks, stubborn enough to keep still and not engage the boy, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. He is tired. His head hurts.

Though—the headache has lessened, actually now that he’s thinking about it. It feels like half the pressure around his mind has disappeared.

The boy breathes out a laugh and shifts. “Senator, do you always assume everyone is flirting with you?”

“You called me lovely,” Anakin points out rather roughly. Lovely. He can’t think of the last time anyone has called him that.

He is a man of forty years with more wrinkles on his face than laughter lines. He is a senator that is feared in the Chambers. His temper and incredibly high standards ensure that he cannot keep an assistant for more than a few months.

Lovely.

“You are incredibly bright in the Force,” Kenobi says. “It is almost blinding, but…pleasant to brush against.”

As if to illustrate his point in the physical plane, his sleeve whispers against the bare skin of Anakin’s bicep as he moves slightly.

“It is lovely,” the boy finishes. A moment passes, and Anakin can hear the smile in his voice. “And besides, I never flirt with someone whose eyes I cannot see.”

Anakin turns his head to look incredulously at Kenobi, realizing a beat too late that in doing so, he has opened his eyes and engaged the boy.

Up close, Kenobi’s smile is boyish and disarming and devastating.

“Hello there,” Kenobi says, two deep dimples framing the curve of his lips. “My name is Obi-Wan. I would have yours, Senator.”

Anakin’s mouth is opening, tongue moving almost against his will. Certainly not with conscious thought. “Anakin Skywalker.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeats. “It’s lovely to meet you.” He holds out his hand, pale and elegant, slightly limp as if he requires Anakin’s help in holding it up.

Anakin is going to reply, mouth already open to once more protest the adjective even as he reaches out to take his hand, but the sound of a door sliding open interrupts him.

In the blink of an eye, Kenobi is on his feet, hands falling behind his back and pale blue sleeves engulfing that delicate skin. Anakin turns to look as well and rises to his feet at the sight of the Chancellor.

He is a good head taller than Kenobi, he notices and then dismisses the thought just as quickly as it occurred to him.

“Chancellor,” Kenobi murmurs respectfully, dropping into a deep bow. Anakin cannot remember the last time he bowed before the Chancellor, but then Palpatine has been his friend and mentor figure since he first donned the robes of a Senatorial aide. They are past empty shows of respect.

“This must be your grandson, Count Dooku,” Palpatine says, approaching Kenobi and holding out the back of his hand in a pantomime of the same gesture Kenobi had just shown Anakin.

Kenobi brushes his lips against the back of his hand before straightening.

“Well-trained,” Palpatine remarks, an odd, appraising tone note coloring his tone. “I understand there is no blood relation between you two?”

“No, Chancellor,” a white-haired man replies, slipping out from the Chancellor’s shadow to stand at the midway point between Kenobi and Palpatine. He looks stern, Anakin thinks. His lips have turned down into a frown naturally, accentuating the wrinkles around his mouth. His eyes move over Kenobi in a way Anakin can only call disinterested, detached. “Adopted.”

“What generosity,” Palpatine murmurs, tucking his hands into the balloonish sleeves of his robes. “How many years have you been living with the Count, Obi-Wan?”

“Ten years, sir,” Kenobi replies easily. “He adopted me when I was thirteen.”

“Ah,” Palpatine says. His voice is silky. “If I am not mistaken, thirteen is the age that Jedi Initiates are asked to leave the Temple if no Jedi Master has requested to take them as their padawan, yes?”

The muscles in Obi-Wan’s back tense and shift. “That’s correct, sir. I was on Bandomeer working in the Agricorps when Count Dooku found me.”

“If only he had expressed interest in training you sooner, when he was a Jedi Master and you an Initiate!” Palpatine remarks, tilting his head.

“You must be mistaken, sir,” Obi-Wan replies, sounding rather sheepish, as if he cannot believe his own gall at correcting the Chancellor of the Republic. “Count Dooku is not training me at all. Our relationship could not be further from that of a Jedi Master and Padawan.”

Palpatine’s eyes flash with something unreadable. “But of course,” he finally murmurs. “I was only referring to your Court education. I apologize if my wording…pressed against a bruise.”

The Count clears his throat with a smile. It looks like it pains him. “No harm has come to myself or my grandson. There is no need for an apology, Chancellor.”

Anakin shifts and thinks of interrupting. The conversation is awkward, simmering with some emotion that Anakin cannot place. His headache is back in full-force.

“Your generosity knows no bounds, Count. How long will you be on Coruscant during this visit?” The Chancellor asks, turning his head to look at the Count.

“That depends on my grandson, your Excellency,” Dooku tilts his head, and Obi-Wan shifts and then smiles.

“I requested this trip, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan says. “It has been a decade since I last stepped foot on Coruscant, and I found that I missed it. Though I feel as if I have been rather rudely confronted by the reality that I may never have known the real Coruscant—after all, I lived in the Jedi Temple. Markedly different from the rest of the planet, I fear.”

“Ah,” the Chancellor replies. “So this is a trip fueled by nostalgia. How excellent.”

“Obi-Wan has his sights set on politics,” Dooku adds wiith a slight roll of his eyes. “Do not let him fool you. We’ve rented an apartment a sector away from the season. He is hoping to find a temporary placement within the Senate.”

“Oh?” The Chancellor says. “How…ambitious. Do you have your eye on any senator specifically? I believe both from Serenno have aides already.”

“I am Stewjoni by birth,” Obi-Wan says. “Their coalition in the Senate is powerful, and I believe Senator Aaerul is in want of an aide. If I cannot entice him into taking me, I will look elsewhere.”

For the first time since the Chancellor arrived, Obi-Wan tilts his head in Anakin’s direction, flashing his blue eyes and deep dimples.

“Perhaps Senator Skywalker would be willing to take me,” he purrs.

Anakin is, of course, aghast at the boy’s brazenness. “Unfortunately, I am not currently in need of an aide. Perhaps Senator Bail Organa, from Alderaan.”

Kenobi’s smile slips seamlessly into a small pout. “That is unfortunate,” he agrees with a sigh.

Palpatine’s eyes narrow as he glances between them. “Yes, I believe Senator Aaerul would be a worthwhile placement, young one. And I wish you all the best. Now—”

“Senator,” Obi-Wan says, eyes focused on Anakin’s face with such intensity that Anakin must look back at him. “How long have you lived on Coruscant?”

Anakin blinks. “Twenty-five years.”

“Would you say you know the planet well?” The boy’s head tilts, his hair a waterfall of golden autumn as it spills over against his shoulder.

“Yes, I suppose,” Anakin replies, tearing his eyes away from his hair to focus on his face.

“I am sure you are a busy man, Senator, but I would be quite obliged if you would accompany me around the sector. If you had the time. Perhaps on a day without a Senate assembly?”

Anakin can feel his eyebrows raise. “I would be terrible company.”

“We have been over this,” Obi-Wan’s eyes become slits with the force of his smile. “I think you are lovely.”

“I—” Anakin swallows and tucks his hands behind his back. His eyes dart to look over at the two older men, both of whom are watching carefully with great interest. He does not want to engage this fae of a boy, unsure where that could lead, where it would end.

But the idea of rejecting him once again in front of his grandfather and the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic makes Anakin feel rather…uncomfortable. He is not a heartless man.

He sighs, barely even noticing that his headache has faded to almost nothing. Perhaps it’s that release from pain that makes him give in. Perhaps he is just weak to a pair of earnest blue eyes.

“I…will see if there is time in my schedule,” he says, and Obi-Wan beams at him.

Lovely, the word echoes in his mind, though it is surely not Anakin who has thought it…probably.

“Thank you, Senator,” he murmurs, hands clasping in front of his chest. “I will give you my comm sequence, you’ll let me know when you have time?”

“Yes,” Anakin agrees grudgingly. “That is what I’ve said.” He slips his comm from his tunics and presents it to Kenobi. The boy takes it with another smile and enters his comm sequence with a flourish.

“Brilliant,” Obi-Wan says, passing it back. “I look forward to it.”

“Obi-Wan, we should take our leave,” Dooku says before Anakin can respond. “I believe the senator is overdue for lunch with the Chancellor.”

“Thank you,” Anakin dips his head automatically. He has, after all, been waiting for over an hour.

“Oh, apologies, my dear boy,” the Chancellor says, sounding startled. He lays a hand over Anakin’s arm. Anakin barely contains the urge to raise his eyebrows. The Chancellor has not called him dear boy since he turned thirty. “I did not even notice the time. We were too engaged upon tax exemptions on Serenno.”

Without conscious thought, Anakin’s eyes dart to Obi-Wan. The boy gives him a wink and a small smirk. Unbidden and to his utmost surprise, Anakin feels a responding smile twitch at the corner of his own lips.

“Chancellor, it was a pleasure to meet you,” the boy bows once more to Palpatine before he moves to the side, allowing Dooku to brush past him. “Anakin, I look forward to your comm.”

The gall of the boy. It’s almost impressive how brazen he is.

The pair take their leave, Obi-Wan throwing one more smile over his shoulder at Anakin, as if he cannot help himself.

The waiting room is still and quiet for several long moments in their absence. Anakin feels sort of like he’s been bludgeoned over the head.

“Senator, please,” Palpatine recovers first, a thoughtful look on his face as he gestures for Anakin to follow him into his office. “I feel there is much to discuss.”

Anakin cannot help himself from looking back at the door Kenobi has just left through, though logically he knows that no one will be there to catch his glance.

The only thing that greets him is the dour expression on Palpatine’s secretary’s face and the sound of her fingers on the keyboard as she resumes typing.

Clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk.

#democratic fic #obikin #sith obi-wan #senator skywalker #oh you know palpatine is pissed af #kit's fics #not a poll question but i would be interested in hearing from you: would you want obi-wan's pov as well or just stick with anakin?

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randomfanner · 5 months

Text

Karlach SFW Headcanons

WHY DOES SHE NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING BEYOND BECOMING A MINDFLAYER MAN

I just want my girl to be able to live on the material plane, as a tiefling and with her friends. is that such a thing to ask for?

Now, this is a no shit Sherlock but Karlach is a cuddler, a pretty constant cuddler once she actually can. Your bedroll/bed is no longer yours. You are sharing with with Karlach. Though sometimes, when she can get the others permission, she does go and crawl into their bed.

Wyll is the most common one for obvious reasons, however Shadowheart and Halsin do often get snuggled with and both of them appreciate it. Astarion, Minsc, Gale and Lae'zel do also get snuggles don't you worry.

She asks very nice. Also she brings Yenna to cuddle with her once Yenna gets more adjusted. Karlach is happy to keep the kid safe and this is the best way to do it with her engine under control.

Hands. Are. On. You. CONSTANTLY. Hips, waist, shoulders, boobs, ass- anywhere she can touch she is all the time. She loves to come up behind you and rest her head onto of yours if she can. And if you are taller than her well, she will just wait till you sit down.

Is also happy if you start doing the same. Hand holding is her favorite thing in the world.

Also loves to bring you to small alcoves to make you see stars whenever she feels the need too but that is for the NSFW headcanons~

Karlach eats a lot. Her engine burns so many calories she has to. In the hells she was given pretty shitty rations but they were filling and she got a lot of them... but actually food- oh gods she loves actual food.

Karlach does actually enjoy fancy rich food a lot. She didn't get to have it for long but when she was working under Gortash she got really good food. One of the untainted memories of working for that son of a bitch was when she was supposed to watch him at some fancy party and found the buffet. Karlach almost got kicked out of the party from how much she was enjoying it.

But Karlach loves when Gale cooks all his fancy wizard food and dishes from Waterdeep.... however if you cook she is always going to favor your food. Even if you are a terrible cook her sense of taste is pretty warped anyway.

Well Karlach does like fancy food, she is not one for fancy boozes. Always much preferred her good ole fashion ale to the expensive wines that Gortash would guzzle down. Though due to her time under fuck face she does actually know a great deal about fancy wines.

Before you got her engine repaired Karlach tried to bring you flowers once but they burned to a crisp in her hand. She was honestly so sad... but then she found a nice rock.

Karlach brings you all sorts of trinkets she finds, for awhile it was rocks, stones and treasure she could pick up... but as soon as she got her engine repaired she began to look around the shadow cursed lands.

When you were near Oliver she found the flowers Halsin mentioned and brought you one of them. Karlach is always happy when she brings you stuff but she was so, so happy when she could actually bring you flowers.

When you go to Baldur's Gate take this girl shopping. Astarion, Karlach and you on a shopping date to find some new clothing for the two of them. It makes Karlach so happy to be dressed in normal clothing again!

Karlach wants to dance with you. She loves to dance and well dancing with a partner has been a long time coming! Dhe will drag you into one of her silly little jigs, swaying her hips and giggling with you.

Pulling you close and swaying with you humming an old tune, perhaps grinding on you just a little bit but again, NSFW headcanons. Be warned she does step on your feet but can you really be mad?

#karlach #karlach cliffgate #karlach x tav #karlach bg3 #karlach baldurs gate 3 #karlach x reader #bg3 #baldur gate iii #baldurs gate 3

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tai-janai · 2 months

Text

Reunite

Path 4: Respect

(Chapter Select)

Voice of the Hero:

Ah, are you okay? That one looked like it hurt.

You are sore, but not in your chest, for some reason. Usually the pain goes away, but something is different.

The rest is as familiar as it usually is; meaning vaguely. The cabin is made of wood again, but not lumber as it had been, but logs, or perhaps roots. There is no table this time, but a tree's cut stump, holding out the knife-shaped echo for you to take.

"We should take it, right?"

Voice of the Hero:

Well... Yeah. In case you need to fight something. And, y'know. Once it's over.

You're not sure why you hesitate, but it passes. You grab the shadow of the blade. It's as formless as ever.

The need for a second opinion continues to make you second guess yourself.

Voice of the Hero:

Are you sure you're alright? You know I can feel how unsure you are?

You shake away the doubt, and continue to inspect the cabin. It is dusty, but still warm. It's almost hospitable.

The door is warped and made of twisting wood. Not very practical, but it does look interesting. There is a woody squeal as it pulls open.

Your descent is practically pleasant. the walls are made of vertical, distorted logs of wood. Overhead, there are clumps of white flowers that grow downwards. The floor, however, is barely a staircase at all. it's just twisted roots at an incline that give you difficulty as you make your way down.

You reach the bottom. The voice in your head knows to keep quiet now.

The basement is beautiful. Hanging flowers litter the ceiling, and every corner has a bush of a different blossom. The floor is a bed of soft moss, comforting your every step with cooling greenery.

At the far end sits something small. If it stood, the top of its head would be at your mid-thigh. You can barely make it out from where you are. You see the chain protruding from the wall, and big, buggy eyes staring up at you, sizing you up.

Hello there!

Not sensing immediate danger, you walk closer. You can inspect it now.

It's a little... creature. It is person-shaped; a head, two pinkish legs, a pair of hooves. Any chest or arms are hidden under an orange cloak. It has horns bent as far back as possible along the contour of is head. A smile welcomes you, and it stands. Its chain is proportionate to its size; it sounds like twinkling as it shifts.

Voice of the Hero:

It's kind of... cute.

Its big eyes go wider after the Voice speaks, but its warm expression doesn't fall.

Thank you! Are you here to let me out?

You nod and return the Being's smile.

Voice of the Hero:

This one is actually going to be simple! It's a welcome change after everything we've gone through.

You start forward.

You trip on an exposed root. You grunt as you hit the floor, and the echo flies from your hand, stopping a few feet in front of you.

Oh, watch your step.

It turns its gaze down to the echo, the smile now a lip curled in worry. It tilts its head, and it blinks, not looking away.

What did you need that thing for anyway?

You bring yourself back to your feet, but don't immediately grab for the blade, not feeling the need to.

"Don't worry, it isn't for you."

It looks at you with a doubting smirk.

Who's it for, then. You?

You shrug.

Voice of the Hero:

Kind of.

You close the gap between the two of you. It really is quite small. Its eager grin is rather endearing, staring up at you.

You reach down for the clamp around its neck. The creature watches your hand approach it with excitement in its eyes.

Your hand brushes the steel of the clamp... And nothing happens.

Voice of the Hero:

Oh, it just couldn't be that easy.

What are you doing? Where's the key?

Voice of the Hero:

We don't have the key.

"Did you think I was what locked you here?"

I...

It starts, but stops itself. It's eyes squint, and it gives you a quick once-over.

Of course not.

"We'll just have to break the chains as they are."

Voice of the Hero:

Sorry about that. We thought we had this down by now, but, maybe something's off.

Sure. I've waited this long.

You inspect the chain as the Voice continues to converse with the Being.

Voice of the Hero:

How long have you waited?

It tilts its head, grinning again.

I'm not sure. I wouldn't know how I'd count time down here. I know it's been a while, though.

You tug at the chain. It doesn't seem as strong or impenetrable as the others.

"I can't get the clamp off, but i can probably break it at a weak point. Is that okay?"

I don't mind. Anything but attached is good enough.

You retrieve the echo for brute-forcing the chain. The creature's wide eyes never leave you.

Your hand on the hilt, you kneel down and hit the thin chain once, then twice. One of the links cracks, and you free the Being from the wall.

It steps away from where you cut the chain, now between you and the stairs at the end of the room, grinning brightly as it eyes the damaged link.

Finally.

Its smile doesn't fall. A set of transluscent, veiny wings emerge from behind it, completely hidden until now. They begin to flutter, and the Being starts to float.

Voice of the Hero:

Woah. Where'd he get those from?

Thank you for letting me out.

Its eyes are now at the height of your own. Its cloak billows, and its gaze is locked on you.

From beneath the cloak, the Being pulls out a longsword. It is small to fit the size of the creature, the same as the chain, but it is long, tapered, and much more physical than your echo. You feel a rush of panic. The smile the Being has worn this entire time suddenly feels sinister.

You did wonderfully. I did love your blind trust. But now, I am in charge.

It swings its sword out, and across.

There is a stinging pain across every inch of your body. Your teeth clench, and it feels like you are being stabbed by millions of needles. The pain is searing.

It ends after a moment, but you remain sore. You fall to your knees, your bones creaking as you do so. At your side, the other you has been separated again, and continues to stand when you could not. It breathes heavily.

The Hero:

That... That one was the worst... Hell...

I freed you, thing. You're welcome.

The Hero:

We freed you first! Why are you doing this?

You only broke my chain.

It swings its sword again. You watch vines pull from the mossy floor and wrap around the Other. He is now trapped, and you can see how tightly he is held in place. Your heart aches at this; this place isn't nice anymore. You don't want to be at the whims of this creature.

This place is beautiful by my hand alone. It is grateful, and it respects me. I don't know what you were playing at before, but I know you put me down here, even if your guilt has erased the memory. I'm not letting you walk all over me or another being again.

Its sword swishes upward. A vine shoots up in front of you, grabbing and wrapping around your neck, keeping you on your knees.

You see that? This cabin listens to me, it bends to my will. I am respected here. I don't care that you broke that pathetic chain, I've always been in charge here. Maybe I should thank you for putting me here, giving me the opportunity to gain so much power.

The Hero:

What about me? I never hurt you. You're hurting me, though. I'm not too eager to listen to something that hurts me for no reason.

Something lashes, and there is a splitting pain that washes across your back. You look at the Other, who sees you hurt, and wears distress on its face. The Being approaches him, and they lock eyes.

You're siding with him. Even if you're like me, the friend of my enemy is my enemy. Either way, you'd just be another follower.

Through its monologue, you devise a plan. You know it is ridiculous, and that is what makes you think it will work. Though your neck is bound, you strain out your words.

"You talk a lot."

You look up, and the creature has turned to squint at you. Its cruel smile is still adorning its face.

My words have more meaning than you ever will. You have no room to look down on me when you are on the floor.

"Kill me, then. I don't care to listen to some fae."

Another sharp strike at your back. You can't even turn to see it. The soreness only worsens, but you know you're having an effect. The smile crawls off of its face.

I am not some silly fae. Nature itself is moved by my hand; I'm closer to a god than anything!

The Hero:

Big deal. I, for one, am not going to worship a god like you.

But you admit I am a god. I don't need your worship. Fear is enough.

The Hero:

Just look at yourself. That chain around your little neck? You can't even break it. Can you even do anything?

You blasphemer. I could squeeze the light out of your eyes this very moment.

"Why haven't you?"

You ask. Not defiant or pushing for a fight. You look into the Being's eyes.

What is a god without followers? If I have to break you the way I broke this cabin, I will. I have the power to, now.

"We can be more than followers and their cruel god. We can be something better."

It sneers at you, and another slash hits your back.

Even if you could offer me something better than what I have, I wouldn't take anything you give me. I'm wise to what you are and what you're willing to do.

You see the Other struggling.

"We want to be friends."

The Hero:

Equals. Not hurting each other. That's all we want.

The Being turns its back and floats a few feet further from you. You can no longer see its face, but the grip it has on its sword has visibly tightened.

"Equals." As if you could ever be on my level. I'd never stoop to that. I love what I am now.

"I don't."

With a groan of disgust, the creature swings its sword to the side. The vine around your neck rapidly pulls your head to the floor, your cheek flush against the moss. You continue, now muffled by the floor, and strained through the strangulation of the plant holding you.

"You hurting me won't change that. I don't love a god that doesn't love me. I won't respect a god that doesn't respect me."

And what would you respect? The creature you trapped down here in the beginning?

Its voice is manic. Angry. Frantic. You can't see it, the way your head is now, but it is facing you.

The Hero:

If you were a true god, you'd know he didn't put you down here.

You... Even if.... AUGH!

The vine around your neck loosens. You raise your head to see the Being slowly drifting towards the ground. Its face is contorted in pain and stress. The Other is also released from the plants' hold. The Being speaks, emphasizing every word.

You hurt me. I fixed myself. All I've known is waiting for you to come back, so I could enact my revenge. I made it through eternity daydreaming about all the ways I'd stab you in the back. It was my comfort.

It hangs its head, eyes closed. You two sit on the ground in silence.

I didn't expect you to just... Be an ass about it.

"What else would have worked?"

Its eyes open slowly, but it doesn't look at you, fixated on the floor in front of it. After contemplating, it laughs dryly.

A quiet fluttering forms a flurry of feathers, swarming the creature. The size of it grows, now returning to something you-sized. The chain that had remained around its neck falls to the moss with a thunk.

The new version comes into view, and you find that it is rather pretty. Its feathers are sleek and long. Its scales seem to glitter. With a vacant expression, it looks down at its hand, where its sword once was, but has left with the feathers. It has no power over you, or anything, now.

It looks at you, then at the other you, then back at you again. It gives you an awkward half-smile.

The Opportunist:

Ah... No, um... hard feelings?

You take in a deep breath, and then lean in, wrapping your arms around it in a hug. It flinches as you do so, and you know it is scared of you and your clear ability to stab it in the back. Though, it hugs you back after a breath, tightly.

He has hurt you, but he has been hurt. He feels that you hurt him. You can't just tell him that you haven't. If it was a cycle, it is now broken.

Clawed fingers gripping at your feathers, not wanting to let go, mean the world right now.

The Opportunist:

I'm sorry. You...

"I am too. I don't know why everyone tells me things I don't remember doing, but I'm hoping I can make amends for all the pain that you've been through."

The Opportunist:

But you really didn't do it. There isn't guilt in your conscience. You're only sympathy.

Your hug ends, but you hold his hands in your own. The Other approaches the two of you.

The Hero:

He has been doing pretty good about it. We don't know how you all have ended up trapped in different-but-still-similar-and-vaguely-familiar basements, but we're fixing things.

The new one looks down at where you two touch. It smiles sadly, but there is contentedness in its gaze.

The Opportunist:

You have to go, then, don't you? I doubt I have been saved for last. You've got other delusional freaks to break out.

You nod. With its hands in yours, you rise to your feet, bringing it with you.

The Hero:

I'll still be here with you, if that makes you feel any better.

The Opportunist:

Only if you can learn to deal with me.

It's almost a joke. You reach down and pick up the echo. Your joints still creak with soreness. You feel the form of it coming into reality as you hand it to the Other.

The Opportunist:

So, he has to do it? ... I hope you don't mind if I look away.

The Hero:

I don't blame you.

The new one does turn its back to you, and the gesture of trust doesn't mean nothing. You feel pride in its growth.

The Hero:

You ready to go?

You let out a breath, and look into his eyes. He is proud of you, too.

He has more to say, but no way to say it with a blade in his hands. He raises it, and it stabs your heart once again. He winces, feeling guilty even still.

The Opportunist:

Until we meet again.

The Hero:

Yeah. What he said.

You want to reach out and comfort the Other, but your strength quickly saps. You fall to the moss-covered floor, and it's almost nice.

If you could, you'd laugh.

Everything goes dark.

#not to toot my own horn #but im in tears #stp #stp voices #the voices #slay the princess #stp fanfic #stp fanart #fanfic #voice of the hero #Howdy! Im Oppy! Oppy the Poppy!

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breannasfluff · 7 months

Text

Whump Rating: 2.5/5 TW: Dehydration, minor vomiting, not an ambiguous ending, ha

AO3 Link

“Hyrule? I’m thirsty.”

The fairy winces and flutters around Wild’s head. “I know, but we’re looking for water.”

The dead landscape of his era offers little in the way of water, shade, or help. Why the portal decided to drop him and Wild here with no one else makes little sense. They’ve been strange lately; warping and wobbling instead of the stability they’ve grown used to.

This time, no one else exited the portal after the two of them. Hyrule is left in an area he’s unfamiliar with, leading Wild. The longer they go, though, the hotter the ambient heat.

Hyrule transformed into his fairy form to conserve energy and stave off the heat; more durable like this. Wild, however, is stuck stumbling along. His slate stutters and zaps; it took a knock when the champion landed on top of it. They hoped this would be Wild’s era so Purah could fix it. Until then, the contents of the slate were out of reach.

“Rulie? Where are we going?”

“Just a bit further. We’re looking for water. Want to listen for it?”

The longer they walked, the more listless Wild got. Both the dry air and the heat took their toll. They must be somewhere near Death Mountain for this temperature. But so far, they’ve found no water or viable shade.

Wild’s ears twitch and he winces. They are red; burnt despite the lack of direct sun through the clouded sky. The heat traps them, stretching the landscape and doubling—tripling their steps.

“Hyrule?” The champion stops with a frown. “Do you hear that?”

The fairy turns in a full circle, wings fluttering. His ears are smaller now and he can’t tell what Wild’s heard. “Do you hear water?” Maybe they’ll be okay. Maybe—

“Monsters.” Some of the haze vanishes and Wild taps his late for a weapon, only to stare at the fritzing screen. “Oh.” He pulls the sword from his hip, slower than normal. He’s in no condition to fight, dehydrated as he is.

Of course, the monsters don’t care. They are upon them soon after, slashing and quicker than Wild can keep up with. Hyrule chimes and circles then lands further away to transform back. The magic takes it out of him, but he pulls his sword and joins Wild in fighting.

By the time they are done, Hyrule’s panting, mouth dry. Wild’s bleeding from a gash on his arm, but otherwise okay. The traveler pulls on the spell to transform again, which lessens the ache of his body. He’s going to run out of magic sooner than later unless he finds a potion.

“Come on, let’s keep looking for water.”

“…water?” Wild blinks at nothing and it takes his eyes a long moment to focus on the fairy in front of him. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They set off again. Hyrule finally lands on Wild’s head, small hands holding onto strands of hair. His wings are drying out in the oppressive heat. If this keeps up without moisture…well, that’s a problem for later.

“Hyrule, look!” Wild’s voice snaps him out of his daze and he blinks slowly, following Wild’s finger. “Water!”

Water. Perfect; this heat has sapped all they’ve got to give and more. He flutters his wings slightly and freezes; they are dried out; paper thin and delicate. They’ll tear under stress.

The promise of water soothes the brittleness, though. There’s the clear gurgle of a stream somewhere up ahead. Wild picks up the pace into a faster shamble—when did he get so uncoordinated? How long have they been stuck in this heat?

“Water!”

The stream comes into view and Hyrule assesses it in an instant. It’s— “Poisoned. We can’t drink that.”

Wild doesn’t stop until he’s by the edge of the water, staring down at it. “What.”

Hyrule’s breath is almost a sob at the betrayal. “I’m sorry. We can’t drink this water, it’s poisoned.”

“But…I’m thirsty.” Wild’s plaintive request nearly breaks him.

“We can’t…we just can’t, Wild. I’m sorry. We’ll find more water soon. Come on, let’s keep going.”

But Wild doesn’t hop the stream, he just stands and stares at the water. “Water.”

“Poisoned water. It will make you sick.”

“But…I’m thirsty.”

Hyrule pulls a little on the hair beneath his hands. “I said, we can’t drink this.”

The champion considers the water for a moment longer, then backs up and runs the few steps to cross the stream. Hyrule sighs in relief and looks around as they continue forward.

Wild’s ears, now bright red and burnt, still flick back and forth in an attempt to track down another send. After a while, he veers slightly off course and perks up. “I think I hear something.”

More water? So soon? Well, the last one was poisoned, so Hylia owes them a break.

Yet when they come to the rivulet, Hyrule nearly sobs. “It’s still poisoned. We can’t drink this.” His wings ache, drying and curling on themselves. He can’t fly now. He could transform back, but it will do him little good. He’ll just be in the same boat as Wild.

The champion doesn’t leave, this time. Instead, he kneels and scoops a palmful of water.

“Wild! You can’t drink that!” Hyrule leans forward and raps his forehead, unable to flutter in front of his face.”

The champion ignores him and sips the water from his cupped hands. “So thirsty.”

“No! It will make you sick! Link! Listen to me! You can’t!”

The fairy is ignored and Wild continues to drink. Hyrule slams his small fists against his head. When this doesn’t work, he clambers off the hair and half falls to Wild’s shoulder. Then he pulls on his draining magic to transform again.

Fully Hylian, the oppressive heat sinks into his lungs and coats his skin. He ignores it to yank Wild away from the rivulet. “You can’t drink that!”

The champion blinks up at him, brows furrowing slightly. “My head hurts.”

“Yeah! Because the water is bad!”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “No…headache. From the heat. Dehydrated. Need…water.” He turns back to the trickle, but Hyrule forcibly yanks him away.

“You’re going to be sick. That won’t help.”

“But…thirsty.”

“I know.” The traveler closes his eyes and curses the unforgiving landscape. “I know. But we need to find clean water. Come on. I’ll lead us. I don’t think you’re going to feel good very soon.”

Hyrule is proven right sooner than he’d like. Wild throws up the poisoned water and moans, then keeps heaving. They can’t keep going like this. As if to taunt them, the slate buzzes and stutters on the champion’s hip. Somewhere, the others must be here. They just need to keep going.

Clutching Wild’s hand, Hyrule pulls him forward. “We’ll find the others. Just you wait.”

He puts all his hope into believing it will come true.

Something cold touches Hyrule’s cheek and he pries his eyes open. Wolfy whines and nudges him again. His lips crack when he smiles, but it doesn’t matter. If Wolfie is here, it means the others are not far behind.

They’ll be okay.

#stranded #tw dehydration #tw vomitting #whumptober2023 #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu whumptober #breannasfluff #mywriting #lu wild #lu hyrule

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its-jaytothemee · 2 months

Text

Tonight...And Every Night - Chapter 2

Pairing: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav; Astarion and Tav POVs

Word count: 1,458; Chapter 2 Tav POV

Rating: Mature

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav fails to convince Astarion to reject the Rite of Profane Ascension and refuses to help him complete it. He leaves her and the party, but regrets his choices later. Angsty and fluffy, POVs from both Astarion and Tav.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Spawn!Astarion, Angst w/ Happy Ending

Author's Note: This was inspired by my playthrough where I somehow failed all of the persuasion checks for Astarion after the Cazador fight, leaving me obviously devastated. First three chapters will come together, then hopefully one or two at a time after that!

Tav stood stock still for a moment, numbness washing over her entire body from the shock of Astarion’s last words. Once the numbness faded, she fell to her knees and began to sob. Not soft sobs like one might see in a tragic stage production, but heaving, guttural sobs that shook her entire body. Not a moment later, she felt Halsin’s strong arms around her shoulders.

“Come here, my heart.” He whispered, cradling the back of her head with one hand, and holding the rest of her against him with the other. His armor was uncomfortable against her face but she didn’t care. Her vision blurred from the tears, her throat ached from her cries. Halsin was trying to whisper comforting words in her ears, but she couldn't make them out. She felt another hand rest on her shoulder and could just barely identify the figure as Gale kneeling next to her. He moved his hand down to hold hers, and she grasped it as tightly as her fading strength would allow. She felt Shadowheart’s familiar healing magic relieving the stinging cuts on her cheeks and the soreness in her arms, but there was no magic that could touch the aching that pounded in her chest.

She heard other voices, but she couldn’t make sense of them. She thought she heard Shadowheart, and another couple of familiar voices that she couldn’t place. Halsin’s low voice cut through the others but still sounded warped in her ringing ears. She buried her face further into his armored chest, gripping his arms trying to keep herself from falling over. She heard footsteps go by her and then fade. The other spawn maybe? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now.

“Tav…” Halsin’s voice was low and soft. He placed a hand under her chin and gently lifted her face up to look at his. “We have to go now.”

“He…he left…” She was barely able to choke out the words.

“I know, Tav. I know. Come on, love. There’s nothing more for us here.” He helped her to her feet, keeping a steadying arm around her waist. She leaned into him, grateful for the extra support. Closer to the stairs, she saw Gale and Shadowheart waiting, their shoulders slumped and heads hung low. She took a small step forward when the gleam of Cazador’s small dagger caught her eye. Bending over to pick it up, she studied the intricate weapon. From the way Astarion spoke, this was the “needle” that Cazador had used to carve the runes into his back. Tears stung her eyes again as she remembered the first time she looked upon those scars. Stowing the dagger in her pack, she moved to leave with the rest of the party but then hesitated.

“Wait…” she called out to them, “the other prisoners.” She began frantically looking around for Cazador’s staff that controlled the cells.

“It’s okay Tav,” Gale called back, “We already took care of it.”

Gods, how long was she a mess on the floor? She felt Halsin’s hand on the small of her back urging her forward. Her three companions surrounded her in a protective shield, as if they were worried about her collapsing at any given moment. Halsin all but carried her through the bloodied corridors of the Szarr estate as they silently made their exit back into the city.

The bright sun was a stark contrast from the darkness of Cazador’s underground dungeon. It took a moment for her to adjust, the light burning her teary eyes. The salty streaks that lined her cheeks dried quickly in the warm air as they continued forward.

“We should stop in at Sorcerous Sundries and resupply, maybe check in on Rolan.” Tav murmured. The others all shared a glance between each other.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather head back to camp, my heart?” Halsin suggested.

“I think some walking would help to clear my head a little if that’s alright. Plus, it’s still early. We should make as much use out of the day as possible.” Her voice was raspy and cracked from crying. Gale and Shadowheart nodded in response with small smiles.

They made their usual stops, taking stock of their potions and elixirs. They sold some of the spare weapons and scrolls they found at the Szarr Palace. Gale stopped in to discuss some of the things that Rolan had found in Ramazith’s Tower. Tav focused on her steps, forcing herself to keep moving forward as they made their way through the familiar streets. Halsin would sometimes have to lightly pull her forward with him to help keep her with the group. She simply wandered with everyone until their errands were complete, offering weak pleasantries to the vendors they frequent. Her companions’ obvious attempts to cheer her up all fell flat. Gale had run off to get a small skewer of roasted potatoes that were normally her favorite. Shadowheart tried to distract her with talks of their favorite wines, offering to open one of the bottles they had hidden away from the others at camp once they returned. Halsin picked a multitude of wildflowers that they passed during their walk and presented her with the small bouquet. She thanked each of them weakly, forcing a smile onto her face. Their gestures were kind and they meant well, she just couldn't summon the energy to appreciate them right now.

They made their way back into their camp outside of Rivington just as the sun was starting to disappear over the horizon. Normally, the smell of the fire and the sound of her friends chatting would comfort her after a long day, but the familiar feel of the camp did nothing to lift her spirits tonight. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and leaned back into Halsin as they approached the crackling fire. Karlach was the first to come running up to them.

“Hey Soldier! Already sent Cazador to the hells did you?” She yelled, her face the embodiment of joy. Tav hugged her chest even tighter.

“Hey, hey, what’s wr-” she cut herself off abruptly. “Wait, where’s Fangs?” She looked between all of them frantically.

All Tav was able to manage was a small shake of her head. She turned to walk away before the tears came back, she hated letting the others see her upset. She was supposed to be their leader after all, and they deserved someone strong. They deserved someone who could have saved their missing companion.

Karlach started to follow her, but Halsin stopped her.

“She needs some time, Karlach. We can tell you what happened.”

Tav kept walking, allowing muscle memory to guide her steps not realizing where that would take her. When she stopped, she found herself standing outside of Astarion’s tent, exactly as it was when they left. Her breath caught, and the grief from today came crashing down on her again. Her eyes overflowed with tears, she tried to conceal her sobs from the others nearby. She composed herself as best as she could, and then walked through the entrance of the tent. The familiar surroundings caused her chest to ache. She laid down on the bedroll where they had spent so many nights together. The fabric held his scent, intensifying the throbbing pain in her chest. She buried her face into the pillow, trying to absorb as much of him as she could. The smell brought back so many sweet memories that were immediately soured by his hateful last words.

‘I hope you all die screaming.’ The phrase echoed over and over in her head.

“Stupid…Stupid…” she whispered to herself.

A thousand questions raced through her mind as she berated herself. How could she think that she could change him? He told her exactly who he was back at Moonrise Towers. She thought that if he was capable of that vulnerability and honesty, then he could surely be capable of changing, capable of healing. She thought maybe, just maybe if she showed him the compassion and love he had been lacking that she could sway him. Tav realized she had let herself completely fall for him without considering what that would truly mean, and now she was devastated. She was heartbroken and hurt and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Knowing his past and hardship, she would have forgiven him for his harsh words and helped him be the man she knew he could be. But now, that chance was gone, as was Astarion.

Now that she was hidden away from the rest of the camp, she allowed her sorrow to consume her completely. She cried into the soft fabric, pulling her legs close to her chest mourning the nights that would never come.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #halsin x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 headcanons #bg3 brainrot #astarion ancunin #bg3 angst #bg3 fluff

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jokingmisfit · 2 years

Text

Tv Princess

Gabriel x reader, Platonic Dean x reader, Platonic Sam x reader

Prompt- “Give me five minutes to get over myself.”

Warnings- Forced (Fake) Marriage, Forced Kiss(?), Reality Warping

Idk man if you find something for me to warn for let me know, I’m really bad at warnings.

TV show after TV show. Sam, Dean, and I “acted” out the scenes. It was Sam’s idea to play along but at this point I was getting tired.

Dean delivers another cheesy line, and the world shifts, or rather glitches, around us. This time it seemed a bit too different. Where is Sam and Dean?

I walked a bit through the room. I noticed my shirt and pants are now a dress. My outfit fits the room's aesthetic. Or perhaps, maybe it’s more of the era?

Red and gold accents around a room that’s lit only by the many windows. It looks like one of those crappy dramas based around old day royalty.

I see a mirror and decide that if I am going to be here alone I might as well make sure I still look good. Ribbons in now tangled hair and white fabric create a perfect dress. Though, I thought white wasn’t a common color. That is when it hit me.

I’m in a wedding dress.

A knock on the door pulls me from staring at myself. I look over to see a girl dressed a lot like a maid.

“Princess, it’s time.”

My heart stops for just a second. This lady really just called me princess. Dear God, help me…

“Yes. Yes, of course. Just give me five minutes to get over myself.”

The girl stepped into the room more. She looked terrified. I felt kinda bad for her. “Princess, I know it isn’t my place, but I know you are scared of your marriage, but we don’t have time... It’s a bad idea to keep the Prince waiting.”

This is going to happen anyways right? If I play along and get it over with it’ll be over. “You know what, you are absolutely right... Let’s go.”

She nodded enthusiastically and we made our way out of the room. We were greeted in front of two large doors by a man in an old timely suit. He didn’t make eye contact or say anything, he just held out his arm for me.

After taking his arm the guards opened the doors. I heard music starting to play as I stared down the aisle. The man all the way at the end of the way was none other than the damned trickster who did this to us. I hid my anger with a deep breath. I observed the room and people in it as we made our way to him.

When we finally made it to the end the man who greeted me gave the trickster my hand and we all moved to a more appropriate spot. The trickster sends a smile to me. I just glare back.

He leans towards me. His smile is now leaning towards a smirk.

“You know it really is best to play along.”

I really want to punch him in the nose at this point. This better end soon. It was funnier when Sam and Dean were being hit in the “family jewels”.

~~Time Skip~~

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me actually do this!

The trickster grabbed my hand and pulled me in. Our lips met and I wanted to die. It was different. I imagined it to feel gross or weird, but it was soft and sweet. I could feel him smile into the kiss. This is. This. It. made me feel sick. I liked it and hated it at the same time.

He finally pulled away. I had no idea what to do or say next.

“You alright, Princess? We gotta a whole ball to attend after this…” He trailed off, then wiggled his eyebrows like a weirdo. “I mean, unless you wanna go straight to the honeymoon?”

I gave a tight smile, biting my lip. “Sorry prince charming, but I don’t roll like that. Thanks for the disturbing offer.”

He laughed… Did he actually find that funny? The trickster took my hand and led me down the aisle and to a much bigger clearing.

“Then perhaps we should just dance.” It was hard to ignore the actual charm he had. I let out a small sigh as he pulled me into a waltz.

You know. Now that I think about it…“What’s your name?”

He stopped for a second. He seemed genuinely confused, before he covered it with a chuckle.

“I’d rather not give information to someone who wants me dead.” He said smiling with a playful tone and stare.

I retorted quickly, “I’d love to say you telling me your name would help us knock you on your ass, but it won’t… Honestly, I’m just tired of calling you “he” and “the trickster” in my head.”

I looked up into his eyes for the first time since he pulled me in. His eyes showed adoration and enjoyment. Why does he look like that? I must look so stupid staring up all wide eyed. Among that he’s using us like a puppeteer, of course he’s entertained… But, why does he look so loving?

The trickster pulled me in a bit tighter. He looked a little concerned as he did, but he leaned into me like he was using me for comfort.

“Gabriel… You can call me Gabriel.”

#spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #gabriel #spn gabriel #archangel gabriel #supernatural gabriel #gabriel x reader #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural gabriel x reader #archangel gabriel x reader

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obxone · 1 year

Text

Let Me (Part Two)

Edited-ish-- ~3.1k words (I went a little wild).

Warning: SMUT

(Part One)

The night is cool, and the breeze blowing creates a chill over your skin as you walk down the dock. A faint glow emits from the Druthers as you near. It is faint enough that no one in the house can see it unless they know what to look for.

“Rafe?” You whisper, nearing the back of the boat. Arms folding around yourself against the breeze coming off the water.

“Right here,” he says as he comes from the cabin. You take him in, his expensive cologne invading your sense of smell, and his casual clothing sends your heart racing. How did he have this effect on you so easily now? Before, you had been aware of Rafe, but you had not wanted him, because you knew what came with wanting the older Cameron. But now that he had promised you the tiniest glimpse into who he was, you could not step back from him. His hands take yours to help you into the boat. He does not give you much room as you cross over. Your chest brushes against him. He leans down, his voice a whisper against your skin. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you respond, and your trembling gives you away. He notices, his fingers tightening around yours before he smiles a little.

“It’s okay.” He tries to soothe you, bringing his hand to cup your face before he leans down. His lips brush against yours in a barely-there whisper. “I won’t do anything you do not want me to. You can trust me, Baby.”

You nod, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his chin.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask him, eyes closed as he holds you for a moment. His warmth and touch bring you comfort.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you exhale and lift your gaze to his.

You wanted to joke that you were about to turn in your v-card to your best friend’s brother on his father’s yacht, but you did not. Instead, you focus on the feel of his hand taking yours before he guides you inside the salon. He shuts the sliding glass door behind you before his gaze meets yours.

“Can I lock it?” He asks, aware that you may not be okay with it before he even attempts it.

“Yes.” But you do not turn to look at him, instead, you are fixated on the cabin space in front of you. You see little LED candles littering the space, a soft, warm glow lighting the area. “Is this… for me?”

“Yes.”

He moves to warp his arms around you. Your back pressed to his chest. He leans down his chin on your shoulder as he watches your smile take over your features.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, and his lips find yours in a teasing whisper of a kiss. “I have my cabin the same way.”

You look around one last time before gripping his hand. “Take me there.”

Rafe is careful with you as he leads you down the winding stairs to the lower portion of the boat that houses the individual cabins. He opens the door to his small cabin and steps back to let you take it in. It is littered with LED candles, and soft music plays from a Bluetooth speaker propped on a shelf.

“Rafe,” you murmur.

“I’m not a complete fuck up.”

You frown and look at him. You reach up to touch his face. H leans into your palm. His lips ghost across the inside of your wrist. “I never said that…”

He smiles weakly then. “You are the only one.”

You lean up on your toes and press your lips to his. He kisses you back, his arms hooking around your waist before he slowly eases you into the cabin. The kiss ends, and your noses brush before he reaches back to close and lock the cabin door, knowing you are comfortable with him.

“You set the pace.”

“I trust you,” you whisper, hand on his chest.

His heart hammering wildly under your palm. Rafe is nearly as nervous as you are. It brings you comfort that this moment is as important to him as it is to you. You truly trust him at this moment. This Rafe is a Rafe you were never permitted to know before tonight.

He leans down to kiss you before backing you up one step. The back of your knees touch the edge of his bed, and you end the kiss to look at it behind you. You turn back to him, and he watches you, allowing you to say no if you want. You nod once, fingers brushing along his jaw. “I want this. I want you.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches to pull his shirt off before moving to lean over you. His lips are on yours. Your trembling hands touch his bare skin as his tongue teases your bottom lip. You part your lips and thread a hand through his hair, the kiss deepening.

His fingers close around the lace hem of your night shirt and break the kiss. You inhale shakily, the tremble returning to your hands. This moment was real, and it was happening right now.

“Can I take it off?” He asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, lifting your arms, and he pulls the nightshirt up and over your head. The whisper of it joining his shirt on the floor reaches your ears, but your gaze is on his face as he takes you in. Your upper body is naked, with nothing left to be unseen.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

You smile a little, a flush coloring your cheeks before you brush a lingering kiss down his neck. “Touch me, Rafe.”

His hands move to touch you, his touch is gentle at first, but once his hands enclose your breasts the need to touch you takes over. He rolls a peaked nipple between his fingers, and it elicits a moan from you.

“Fuck, that sound,” he groans before his head drops to layer kiss after kiss along your breasts. Your chin tips back, and your fingers weave through his hair as he suckles and nips at the delicate skin until he’s satisfied and you are panting with need. His lips claim yours eagerly.

“Scoot back, Baby,” he whispers after the kiss ends. You do as he says, and he follows, his eyes never straying from your face until you are near the top of the bed. “Right there,” he says, hand brushing your legs.

You nod once before leaning up to kiss him again. His fingers are barely there as he skates them up your legs to your night shorts. The fabric is thin, a whisper of silk and lace on your lower half. You reach for him, guiding his mouth back to yours. The soft pleasing feel of his lips makes you addicted to kissing him. His body hovers over yours, and your hands touch him, trailing over the rivets of his abs and down to the top of his shorts.

“Slow Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You open your eyes, biting your lip when his mouth travels down your neck and between your breasts to your stomach. His fingers are careful as they enclose the elastic band of your pajama shorts. You lift your hips in response, and he slides them down.

“Holy shit,” he breathes once it is revealed you are naked underneath them. His blue eyes find yours, and he exhales. “You are going to be the death of me, Baby.”

You bite your lip and look away once he has fully removed your shorts. His touch is firm, but not painful as he spreads your legs. You shudder, hands gripping the bedspread under you. He pauses, seeing your hesitation.

“Don’t,” you rasp out. “Don’t stop, Rafe.”

His eyes flicker back down before his index finger drags through your folds. “You are dripping.”

“I want you,” you whisper, and he groans, biting his lip.

“I want you so much more.”

You laugh a little, knowing he could not possibly understand what having him do this for you meant.

His breath fans over your thigh as he guides you onto your back.

“I want to taste you, okay?”

You bite your lip before giving him a nod of consent. His large hands slide down your legs before he gently guides your legs over his shoulders. His chest presses to the mattress as his face fits between your legs. Your lips part, chest rising and falling faster as you realize he intends to devour you. When his mouth finds your center, you gasp, hands falling to twist the bedspread.

“Rafe!” You gasp, hips jerking against his tongue.

He groans, savoring the first swipe of his tongue through your folds.

“Oh,” your head falls back, eyes fluttering close. His hands press your hips down, holding you right where he wants you. Your hand finds his blond locks, pressing for more and tugging as the tingling feeling in your belly threatens to consume you whole. He does indeed devour you, his mouth working over you, drinking down every drop your body gives him until you are on the cusp of coming.

He pulls away, his chin slick with you as he stares at you. His hands resting on your thighs. “Look at me.”

Your eyes open to meet his before you look away, heat flaming over your body.

He chuckles, and it resonates with that tugging feeling in your lower belly.

“Rafe,” you whisper, looking at him again. He lifts an eyebrow waiting for you to decide if you want more. “Please.”

He moves up your body to kiss you. His tongue is in your mouth, letting you taste yourself, while you push his shorts down his hips. He groans into your mouth when your fingers brush his hardened length.

You end the kiss to look and inhale sharply at what you see.

“It’s okay,” he says, touching your face, his lips ghosting over your cheek. “I’ll be careful.”

You lift your chin to kiss him, hands on his face as he shimmies his shorts down and off the rest of the way. His hand brushes against the inside of your thigh, guiding your legs further apart to make room for him.

His eyes are hooded with lust as he lines himself up to you. “It’s going to be uncomfortable for a second, Baby, and I can stop if…”

“No,” you say gently. “Don’t stop. Not now.”

He nods, licking his lips before starting to slip into you. Your eyes flutter shut as the stretch begins. His tongue is nothing compared to his size as he pushes into you.

“Rafe,” you gasp after a moment. The stretch became more of an ache. He looks at you, his hips stilling as you pant for air. He can see the panic starting to bloom within you. His hand finds yours, and he brings it down to touch where he joins with you.

“Halfway,” he says, his voice gentle, coaxing. “You are doing great.”

You close your eyes and nod once. “Okay.”

He keeps your hand against where you meet, and you feel him slipping in bit by bit until he is fully sheathed within you. His chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Good girl,” he coos before lifting your hand to his lips. His kisses are gentle as he peppers them across your knuckles and down to your wrist. Your heart aches at him being so gentle and caring. He shifts to lay against you. His lips inches from yours as he braces his hand against the headboard and the other on your waist.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I want you to move. Please.”

And he does, he pulls out to his tip before he slides back in, stretching you again, and it makes you gasp as your legs try to squeeze shut against the aching stretch. You bite your lip and watch him, and he watches you. His warm gaze reminds you that you are safe with him. Your pants and moans mix as he repeats the process a few more times. His hands fist the blanket as he tries to remain in control. The tight squeeze of your walls around his length drives him nearly feral.

You moan his name, hand pressing against his back as the other grips his arm. Your nails bite into the soft flesh of his bicep. Your head falls against this shoulder as he speeds up a fraction.

“That’s it, Baby,” he encourages. “Taking all of me. So good.”

“More,” you beg.

Your lips press to his throat before his jaw and finally his lips. He kisses you, his body pressing against yours as he begins to roll his hips. His hand finds your thigh, and he guides your leg up against his hip as he pushes into you deeper. You groan, head turning to the side as you stare at his hand white-knuckling his bedspread. His mouth finds your neck, kissing and sucking marks into the soft curve of your neck and the line of your shoulder.

He moans your name as you begin to rock your hips into his. The ache has since disappeared and is replaced with wanton need. The feeling from when he had his mouth on you begins to spread, and you know you are close. You were desperate for it to consume you as he watches you. He is enjoying seeing you come undone because of him.

You close your eyes, back arching, as the band snaps and pleasure floods you. “Oh my!” You cry out. “Rafe!”

“I know, Baby, I know,” he moans, his thrusts turning messy as your walls squeeze him. Your hands grip his back, and your legs squeeze his hips. The overstimulation sets in. His teeth graze your shoulder as he comes, buried inside you, filling you with every drop of his come. You kiss him in a messy rush, hands shaking as your touch his face. Your legs fall away from him as he stills underneath you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his.

He smiles, his blue eyes sparkling with pride at you finding bliss in his arms so easily. “You’re welcome.” He pecks your lips one last time before he shifts, sitting back on his knee as he pulls out, looking at the mixture of your collective orgasms and your blood on his cock.

“Is it a lot?” You ask, sitting up on your elbows. He shakes his head.

“No.”

He leans in to kiss you, and you catch a glimpse of his softened length before he moves into the ensuite bathroom. The shower starts, and you glance around the room. The bedspread damp beneath you as you move to stand. You hiss, the ache returning to be between your legs. Your skin burns from his touches and kisses. You are sure your neck and shoulder are covered with love bites. Rafe emerges from the bathroom, his hands on you immediately.

“Careful.” He kisses you when you smile at him, deepening the kiss until he is satisfied enough to pull away. “We should shower, and then I will get fresh bedding for us.”

“We are staying here?” You ask, looking around the cabin again. Rafe was shocking you again, the typical hit-and-quit rumors failing to produce any truth.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere else tonight. Not even back to Sarah’s bed.” His hands lazily skim over you.

“Me either,” you return before you peck his lips.

Rafe helps you into the shower before joining you. He is careful as he washes the remnants of this shared moment away, and you do the same. Your hands linger on his muscles until he kisses you and presses you against the shower wall, with a whispered reminder that he would gladly have you again if you were not already exhausted and sore.

— — — —

In the morning, Rafe wakes before you, his warmth and last night's actions drugging you into a restful sleep. Eventually, you wake to his lips pressing over your exposed abdomen. You giggle, hands in his hair as his blue eyes meet yours.

“Morning,” you mumble.

“Morning.” He moves up to hover over you again, his lips on yours in a heady kiss. Once the kiss ends, you tilt your head to study him. He lets you. The familiar kook prince mask is gone, and you never want it to come back.

“Thank you,” you say, finger tracing his lips.

“For you,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “I would do anything.”

You blush, and it makes him smile before he kisses you again.

“But we should head back soon, the others will wake up.”

You nod, chewing your lip. He pauses, feeling the shift in your demeanor.

“I want to tell them, I want to scream it from the rooftop, but I know you are not there yet,” he says, his touch gentle as he cradles your face. “You set the pace for all of it.”

You nod, before closing your eyes and turning your face into his touch. Your lips press to his palm.

He helps you into your night clothes with lazy kisses against your skin before he dresses. You watch him, noting the nail marks imprinted on his skin. You are sure yours is covered with marks from his mouth. He walks with you back to the house, his hand wrapped around yours. You both pause outside Sarah’s door. You feel different, the look on his face tells you that he agrees. You are different now.

“See you later?” You ask softly, unsure what the next step will be now that you are returning to reality.

“At breakfast, Baby.”

You smile, cheeks warming at the continued use of the endearing term, before slipping into Sarah’s room and shutting the door quietly. He watches you, his hand raising to his mouth. Long fingers tracing his mouth as the door clicks shut and separates you from one another. You curl up under the covers with a still-sleeping Sarah. Your body tingles, and your heart races at the thought of what has happened between you and Rafe.

You close your eyes, and you can feel his hands and lips on you. The sounds that fell from his lips fill your head. You smell like him, his expensive cologne and natural scent clinging to you. Your body wanted to rest, but your mind raced at everything you had just experienced.

Rafe Cameron had taken your virginity on the most intimate night you could have imagined.

(Part Three)

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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