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nonexistent-introvert · 10 months

Text

Alternate Reminder

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Content: Miguel has trouble trying to treat you fairly when you remind him too much of what he had lost. Angst, misunderstanding.

A/N: I havent truly proofread this so I'm sorry. This took super long.

Part 2

Miguel thought you were special. He thought it was maybe the universe giving him a second chance when he saw you. His first love and his beautiful wife, standing in front of him while wearing a Spiderman suit. Maybe, he was destined to be with you, after all, a universe where you could understand him. A universe where he could finally be happy with you and Gabriella, a universe that he actually belonged to and he didn’t have to worry about destroying a whole universe just to be with you.

The only problem? This version of you had zero ideas of who Miguel O’Hara is. Miguel thought it was a canon event, for the both of you to fall in love. In most universes he had been to, you were with Miguel. In most, you were happy and had a family with him. In the more unfortunate universes, things didn’t work out between the two of you. The only thing that was unchanged was that Miguel and you were bound to find and fall in love with each other at one point.

However, Miguel hated your guts. His amor was sweet, responsible, and well-organized. You were the complete opposite of that. You were rude, irresponsible, and very messy as a person. He dared say that you were the messiest person he had ever met. There was no sign of organisation at your workstation. Papers were messily stacked on top of each other or swept across the desk. The mini shelf you had beside your desk was filled with books that were all falling to one side, some had completely collapsed. More files were squeezed on top of the books. Miguel’s greatest pet peeve was seeing the bent and folded pages being shoved into a file. The urge to help you reorganize was almost too big for him to handle causing the frustration to build up and was let out onto you instead. Miguel groaned as he met eye contact with you while he was buying his morning coffee. It was almost insulting to him how you had the same exact face as her, the woman he falls for in every universe.

On the opposite side of the same coin, you loathed Miguel O’Hara. He was bossy, pompous, and couldn’t take a single joke. Any conversation you have had with him ended up in the both of you arguing. Sarcasm was something everyone around you had gotten used to, except for Miguel of course who never seemed to catch on. He would simply give you a judgemental stare before giving a literal answer which you would roll your eyes at. At that point, Miguel would think that you’re being rude, and depending on his mood that day, he would either scold you or scoff at you.

“Just get over it, you’re always mad at Miguel anyways. I thought you would get used to it by now.” Gwen sighed, giving you the same response every time you ranted about Miguel. “It’s not like you don’t know the big guy,” Hobie said nonchalantly, having long gotten used to your rants about Miguel. “You hate him, we get it.” Pavitr groaned, complaining for the umpteenth time about how you always seemed to be talking about Miguel. Gwen chuckled, “If you didn’t point out every single flaw of his so heartlessly every time you rant about him, I would think you have a crush on Miguel or something.” Gwen said. “Hell no. I’m not fucking blind.” you defended, offended she would even think this way. “You gotta admit, big boss is quite the looker, too bad he’s a prick.” Hobie pointed out. “Speak of the devil,” Pavitr warned, straightening up as he stared at Miguel who was walking to your table’s direction.

You merely glared in his direction. Gwen was right, you should be used to him by now. He shouldn’t be getting under your skin so easily. So why can’t you just ignore him? Why does your mind always drift to him when you’re alone, why do you realise when he was due for a haircut? How his hair curls at the end when he lets his hair grow, how he reaches 10 minutes early to any appointment, and how he would get his coffee at exactly 9am in the morning. You shook your head, riding yourself off those thoughts. There was no way you actually had some sort of attraction to him right? Your mind drifted to the fight you had with him 5 days ago, his words still causing a dull ache in your heart. The both of you always fought but you were sure Miguel was going to kick you off the team until he called your friends the next day and gave you a mission through them while also completely disregarding your presence if he saw you around after.

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

“Mind your own business!” Miguel exclaimed, you flinched at his harsh tone. “I was just-” “Who said you could touch my property?” Anger was practically the only emotion in his voice as he pushed you to the side. “Lyla told me you were having some troubles, that your screens had some kind of issue-” You gritted out, closing your eyes to calm yourself too. You only had good intentions to fix the issues he was fixing and now you were being accused of invading his privacy. You couldn't even remember any of the files that appeared on the screen while you were fixing his terrible code. Too focused on solving the technical errors to be poking your nose into his business. “I don’t need your help,” He seethed. “She was going to help you, Miguel. You have been complaining about it and even I can’t help you, you very well know she’s the only one equipped with the knowledge to fix this.” Lyla defended you. The fury in Miguel’s eyes scared you as well, “You need to mind your own business as well.” He snarled to Lyla before turning to you, switching off the orange screens completely. “I would rather let everything burn to hell than trust you to fix anything. You’re a fucking mess if you didn’t realize. ” Miguel spat.

It was your last straw. You had more self-respect than let anyone speak to you like that. “Kick me off, fucking kick me off already. You hate me anyways, right? So why do you bother keeping me around?”

“Get out!” Miguel bellowed and you didn’t need him to repeat himself. You took off the watch on your wrist and threw it to the floor, letting it break into pieces. In that moment, his words hurt you more than glitching ever would.

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

Peter found you at a bar in your universe that day. You downed another glass of whiskey at the sight of Peter, you were in too bad of a mood to talk to anyone now and you know you would regret it if you lashed out at him.

Peter didn’t say anything, simply sitting beside you and staring as you downed one glass after another.

Peter ordered a drink, taking sips of his drink as he decided on the best approach to talk to you. Your anger was practically radiating off you, making everyone else stir clear of you.

“He’s all bark no bite.” Peter started. You scoffed lightly, letting the silence fall between the both of you. You turned to peter, feeling bad for putting him in an uncomfortable situation. “You heard already huh.” Peter simply shrugged, “Word travels fast. Practically the whole society knows.” You downed another glass at that, you wondered how much the story had changed as it was passed from one person to another. It was probably a field day at headquarters.

“There is barely anyone at headquarters, Miguel has been bringing hell to anyone he even makes eye contact with,” Peter answered as though he could read your thoughts. You had to bite back your words, to tell Peter that you really couldn’t care less about Miguel now nor did you need the company. Silence fell between the both of you, Peter lightly bobs his head to the music that was playing in the bar to relieve the tension that was building up. He was never one for tense situations. “You know, you’re not really that different from Miguel.” Peter immediately put his hands up in defense when you practically growled at his comment. “Well, it’s just that both of you would rather die than talk about your emotions. Thankfully, I managed to crack Miguel so I think I can do it for you too.” Peter confidently stated. You remained silent, swirling the whiskey in your hand. You didn’t trust yourself to not lash out at Peter, especially when he’s practically comparing you to Miguel. The man you hated in all of the multiverse

“Hm, silence. Miguel screamed at me when we reached this point.” Peter observed, laughing nervously at the memory of his talk with Miguel. “I guess I’ll just go on first then.” Peter wrung his hands nervously. “I’m sure Miguel didn’t mean anything. You just hit a sore spot.” You scoffed again, “What? By trying to fix his stupid system?”

Peter took another swig, he definitely needed the alcohol. “Do you not know about what is on those screens? One that probably popped up while you were fixing it.” “Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t snooping on him. I was focused on the system itself.” You defended. Peter cringed ever so slightly at your response. “There is this girl on the screen, the one with a happier, better-looking Miguel.” Peter took another swig, this really wasn’t his story to tell. You pursed your lips, you did remember seeing the footage that Peter mentioned. You had to force yourself to look away, that you were invading his privacy.

“That’s his daughter.” Peter finished, trying to gauge your reaction. You simply preserved a blank look and Peter groaned slightly, he detested how stubborn you were. “Miguel found a universe where he had a family and was happy, but him in that universe had an accident so he replaced himself. Some butterfly effect happened and the whole universe collapsed on itself and he lost everything.” Peter explained. You finished your drink, everyone has lost someone. You understood why it was a sore spot but it doesn’t justify being a total asshole.

“Miguel didn’t mean anything he said to you. It was just- tough.” Peter finished. “I didn’t even do shit Peter, just decided to fix his system and he accused me of invading his fucking privacy. It’s not like he’s the only one who lost someone. We all did.” Peter shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “He just fucking hates my guts and I don’t know why? He literally told most people about my past when he explains about anomalies so why is he so mad when I know about it?”

“Because you have the same name and face as his wife, the woman who he falls for in every universe.” Your jaw dropped at the information. You couldn’t ever fathom the thought of you and Miguel even being in love. The anger in you simmered ever so slightly. It would explain how his features softened when he sees you sometimes, the vulnerable look in his eyes when he stares at you for too long. A stranger with memories, that is what you are to Miguel. Miguel tries his best to treat you like others. It was exceptionally tough when you shared the same name and face as the woman he had spent his happiest moments with. “He never told me,” you told Peter. Peter shook his head, “No one was allowed to tell you. Not like many people knew anyways. He didn’t want to stir up any unnecessary trouble. You know how he is, he doesn’t like it when people try to share his burdens.” You pursed your lips, cursing out your alcohol tolerance. It was times like this you wished you could just forget everything. “It doesn’t matter. Miguel probably wants me out of his life.” Peter threw his hands up frustratedly. “If he wants you out he wouldn’t send me here to tell you about everything.” Peter admitted. Peter was worried when he heard the news of you and Miguel having a fight which is what brought him to talk to Miguel. Peter wouldn’t be able to find you by himself, only Miguel could. You closed your eyes, you had enough of everyone. You were so exhausted, everything has been so draining.

“Just leave me alone alright?” You said, stumbling out of your seat slightly before leaving the bar and Peter behind.

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

“The anomaly was caught. We ensured there were no loose ends. Everything should be fine.” You reported to Miguel. Your hands were behind your back, there was a blank look on your face. Miguel bit his lip slightly at your cold demeanor toward him. He used to complain about you taking things too lightly. When you would stroll into his office with a grin, confidently telling him all the details of the mission even if it was insignificant. Now, you told him the bare minimum with a professional tone and stand.

Miguel used to complain and bluntly tell you that he didn't care for some of the details you told him after. Details like you and Gwen dropped by a Mcdonald's to grab some fries or that you also managed to finish a recent show. Now he wishes you would tell him, instead of you acting like this., all quiet and serious. Miguel took a deep breath, staring at you as the platform descended. He looked away slightly, knowing things were still tense between the two of you. “Sorry about that the other day. I was not in the right place.” He apologised, forcing himself to meet your eye. Your expression was still blank, “It’s fine.” You brushed it off like you hadn’t been thinking about it ever since. “If that’s everything, I’ll take my leave now.” You told him, bowing slightly as you turned. Miguel flinched at the tone. “Wait.” He wanted to stop you from leaving. Then his head turned to the orange screens behind him that glitched every so often. “Would you-” Miguel hesitated, thinking if this was the best move.”

“I- can you help me fix the screens?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “I promise I won’t lash out at you.” Miguel weakly joked. You simply nodded, stepping up onto his platform. Miguel stared at you, you were so unlike yourself. There were no teasing comments, no laughter, not even a hint of a smile. You stood in front of his screens, diligently and skillfully opening and typing away a new code. Miguel shifted and fidgeted behind you, he was wrecking his mind for a conversation topic. You were the one who usually initiated or continued the conversations. His mind replaying all the conversations he had with you. A smile tugged on his lips, music was your common ground with him. He remembered how your eyes twinkled when you talked about your favorite songs.

“I recently got into classical music.” Miguel shared. Miguel was half-convinced that he wouldn’t get a reply when you let his words hang in the air while you focused on the task at hand. “Oh? Mahler?’ You finally replied. His eyes widened. “How did you know?” He was greeted with silence again and only then did he appreciate how quick your responses used to be. “I just want to know, because you seemed really confident about it. Did I tell you?” Miguel filled the silence himself. “I just saw it.” You gestured to the screens. He nodded, letting the tense silence take over again. You were never so quiet, he never had to deal with this uncomfortable silence when he was with you.

“You changed.” Miguel blurted out. There was no response from you as you continued working on the screens. You didn’t know how to respond either. The news about you being an alternate version of his wife, it was rather overwhelming. You used to spite him and annoy him just for the fun of it, but after everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it anymore. His gaze made you self-conscious now, of what he thought of you, and nor did you want a repeat of what happened that day. You did a lot of thinking the past few days and you had to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate Miguel O’Hara. You couldn’t hate him. The thought of him hating you, it was terrifying.

“What?” You muttered, Miguel barely caught onto your response. He placed his hands on his hips, looking down. “Look, I’m really sorry for that day and I know I can’t take back anything but I really hope you don’t distance yourself from me because of that.” Miguel swallowed, it was publicly known that the both of you never seemed to get along but the thought of you becoming cold to him made him shiver to his core. “You’re overthinking things.” You stated plainly, forcing out a laugh. Miguel sighed, “You just seem, very different. Let’s not even talk about our interactions. You have just been more distant with everyone, you’re taking things way too seriously and well, you’re a lot more well organised now. The biggest shame was losing the constant smile, boosted many of their morale even in the most difficult of times.” you swallowed bitterly, debating internally if you should snap at Miguel right now while you stared at the screens before you. “I had to work on not being a mess right?” You answered, quoting his exact words. Miguel’s eyes flashed with a hint of pain and you knew it was a low blow. He had already apologised, you’re the one who keeps bringing it up. But those words haunted you even till now.

“You really changed huh?” Miguel continued. He didn’t expect you to use his words against him. When you know that he regrets it, it was a low move even for you. “It’s done.” You announced, ignoring his comment towards you. Your patience was thinning again. He merely glanced towards the screens before looking at you again. “You’re not the person I knew,” Miguel stated plainly. You turned your head to him.

“I’m not the woman you had in mind, Miguel! I’m not your fucking wife and I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You looked away, running your hands through your hair in distress. “I never was. I’m sorry I remind you of her but I’m not her.” You snapped at him. Walking out of his office. Everything made sense now. Miguel would be annoyed and frustrated with you most times, but there were times that he acted differently towards you. The times when he had carried you to a more comfortable place when you had fallen asleep on your table, the jackets that he had given to you to keep you warm still hung in your closet. The late-night conversations where he was more vulnerable towards you and had conversations with you about your interests while you hung from the ceiling, claiming that it helped you stay awake while you sift through the paperwork with him. You found it weird how he could hate your guts one second but be even sweet to you when it was just the two of you. At one point, you even thought you had fallen for Miguel O’Hara.

You shook your head, ignoring Miguel behind you as you rid the thought of even entertaining a possibility with Miguel. He never treated you as you are, he never liked you for who you are.

You simply shared a face and name with the woman he was destined to fall for.

You chuckle at how foolish you were while you stepped on the watch that Peter had given to you as replacement for your old one.

“I fucking quit.” You announced to a surveillance camera in the hallway, knowing fully well that he is monitoring the camera for your whereabouts now.

Miguel angrily swept the files off his table, growling out in frustration. He buried his face in his hands, he never saw you as the woman who he had fallen for and had Gabriella with. Sure, there were a few times your identical looks made his heart pace with what could have been. However, Miguel had started spending more time with you and getting to know you as a person. In those times, he reckoned he enjoyed it too much.

There was no way he was falling for you right?

Was there a point even if he did? You had already left him.

Miguel O'Hara always messes up his own happiness. That seems more like his canon event than falling in love with you.

#miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider man #spider-man #into the spider verse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #spiderman atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you

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beenbaanbuun · 2 months

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fingers w/ yunho

i wrote this in like 20 minutes bc it’s yunho and i’m horny thinking about him…

words - you know the drill

genre - smut

warnings - finger sucking, dom!yunho, sub!reader, oral (m! receiving), clit play, ignorance kink??? if that’s a thing… , soft!yunho, yunho calls reader pup…

suddenly thinking about sucking yunho’s fingers…

like imagine you’re just sitting between his thighs with two of his long fingers between your plush lips, pressing down on your tongue

you don’t know how you ended up in the position, but it’s one you find yourself in very often

yunho’s admitted more than once that he just likes the dominance of it all

the fact that it’s barely sexual and yet somehow at the same time it is

he lets you rest you head on his thigh like a dog looking at its owner

and you can’t help but look at him in the same way - eyes wide and sparkling like yunho holds the keys to the universe itself

and yet he never pays a single ounce of attention to you

there’s always a film playing in the background or something and for some reason his eyes always remain trained on the screen

but just the chance that he might pay you the slightest bit of mind is enough to send you into a dizzy haze

one that has you desperate to impress as you suckle on his fingers gently, not even moving an inch despite the fact that your knees are starting to ache

you always make sure to behave like a good girl just in case he looks at you

and every so often he changes it up and slowly fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth

they hit the back of your throat to make you gag before he pulls them out almost completely

sometimes he likes to pull your jaw open so you’re just sitting there with an open mouth and your tongue gently lapping at his fingertips

really, it’s nothing special and it never lasts long, but it’s enough to remind you of your place - on your knees and ready to be used

when there’s spit gathering at the corners of your mouth as your boyfriend mindlessly plays with you, it’s hard to forget your place

after an undisclosed period of time, he’ll drag your face to his crotch by your jaw and get you to suck his cock

he doesn’t mind how, quick and sloppy or slow and intimate, just as long as you’re making him cum by the end of it

he still pays you no mind throughout the whole thing, desperately trying to hide his moans behind well placed coughs

and then once he’s finished and you’ve swallowed it down like a good girl, that’s when he finally looks at you

it’s always with a sweet smile as he invites his good girl back onto the sofa

“come on, pup,” he mumbles as he pays the spot next to him, “you’ve done so well, hm? want me to make you cum for me?”

and you can help but nod as you crawl up onto the furniture and cuddle in close

he lets out a chuckle when you press yourself into his side, spreading your legs ever so slightly so he has enough room to work

he’ll press a kiss to your nose as he slips his hand inside your shorts to play gently with your clit

depending on his mood, he might go back to ignoring you as he toys with your sensitive bud, but more often than not, your pathetic whines are enough to make him pay full attention to you

but despite his kind expression, his hand is determined

he changes pace often, pressure alternating alongside it

sometimes it’ll be soft and gentle and then a second later his fingers will be speeding up and pressing down harder and harder until you’re squirming and squealing under his touch

and when you finally cum and your body goes limp for just a moment or two, yunho will just smile at you and pull you completely onto his lap

because no offence but he is the softest man to ever exist outside of sex and you cannot deny that

like the moment the both of you have cum, he’s on you like a giant puppy, kissing you softly and massaging you all over

his fingers brush over your bruised knees and he pouts and coos as if he isn’t the one that caused it all

but you don’t mind

because when he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, all you can think of is how much he means to you…

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #yunho fanfic #yunho x reader #yunho smut #yunho scenarios

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planet-dusk · 11 months

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Who do you think has the whiniest moans in skz?

🏷️ sub!skz, mommy!reader, overstim, orgasm denial, breeding, bondage, pegging, pet play

jisung: so so whiny !! he just wants you so bad :(( pull his hair, make him cry and moan and he's the happiest man on earth. the definition of pussy drunk <33 sungie's high on your scent and would do anything to get a taste. very sensitive too, even the faintest touch has him twitching underneath you. can't stop whimpering when you fuck him in missionary and he gets to cum untouched

changbin: whiny boy! complains loudly when he doesn't get what he wants, which is his mommy sitting on his face 24/7. he's the perfect service top who'd do anything to make you feel good <33 the only thing hotter than his whines are his low possessive grunts and curses when he finally gets to cum and claim you as his

minho: he's either completely quiet or very vocal depending on his mood. but when it's one of those days.... hands and feet tied to the bed he makes the prettiest sounds for you, voice soft like silk when he breaks and begs you to please keep your mouth on him after what feels like hours of edging. minho wouldn't have it any other way <33

felix/hyunjin: i couldn't choose bc they're so different yet similar at the same time, felix alternating his low groans with high-pitched whines while hyunjin lets out the prettiest sobs when you overstimulate him until he's all spent and sore <33 where felix wants to be coddled by his mommy, hyunjin loves it when you're mean to him and make him cry. but in the end both of them want nothing more than being held in your arms, sucking on one of your nipples while they come down from their highs

chan: he's such a stud <33 chan's vocal but more of a talker (so much dirty talk) which is the only reason he's placed this low cuz when he whines.... it's heavenly. he's lowkey embarrassed about how fucking into it and desperate he gets, begging to breed you and stuff you full of his cum. will do it every time regardless <33

jeongin: not much of a whiner but he loves the sounds you make when you let him touch you. especially likes to pull them from your lips by pinching your clit, patiently giving you two or three fingers to clench around instead of his cock until you've cummed at least twice, just like you ordered him to :))

seungmin: loves being your good pup !! he's more on the quiet side, letting out the occasional grunts and moans. short, gruff barks right before his tongue parts your folds and he licks his way around your clit to tease you, your hands tugging on his hair. will sometimes growl when he mounts you after you've given him the green light to be rough and make his mommy feel good <33

#answered #anonymous #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #sub!idol #sub!stray kids #dom!reader #sub!skz #;skz mtl

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petit-etoile · 7 months

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everything i see, everything i feel (you are my universe)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 8746 content warnings: astarion is not a vampire nor ascended & tav is not the dark urge but i use pet names from his ascended route because i think they fit & some of the dark urge connections are necessary, brief mention of tav being raised as a child soldier by gortash, tav is gender neutral, nearly 8k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - royalty, character study, porn with plot, dom/sub undertones, mi.ssionary style, do.ggy style, riding, cr.eampie, marriage proposal, sort of archiveofourown: here. note: depending on reception & if i have time, there may be a part two or a prequel. i ended coming up with lore for this verse so i like it a lot. summary: ‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

You can already tell what kind of evening it will be just from the way Astarion looks at you from beneath his eyelashes, so coy and pretty and unabashed in the way he glances over you. Whatever happened tpday at court has pleased him. He practically purrs when he steps past you to enter the sanctuary of his expansive bedroom.

‘You’ll come,’ he murmurs, ‘won’t you, darling?’

You’ll play his game because he likes it. You keep your lips pressed together in a firm line despite the way his hand slides gracefully across your waist, warming the chainmail that you wear dutifully every day so that you can keep the crown prince safe. He pouts when you pretend to not notice the playful mood he’s in. And when you change your mind after only a few minutes, Astarion will wear the same mischievous frown and think he has claimed victory over you once more.

You recite your vows to yourself to keep your mind from wandering, but it’s difficult. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. It’s…admittedly hard to remember the rest. You’re distracted by the most impure thoughts. Memories of nights before. The taste of him on your tongue, the feel of him between your thighs, the sight of him as he grinds above you, the gleam of his skin as dawn begins to creep over the horizon. You squeeze your thighs together and try to wait out at least five minutes before you cave.

You peek down the hallway. There are no other guards skulking around at night. You’re not technically supposed to leave your post, but if the prince commands it… Well, it’s an excuse. You rush inside before you can feel the call of your valor and close the door after you with a soft click. Astarion sits with his legs crossed at the edge of his bed. He grins. It’s almost as predictable as you are, but you would never admit it.

‘You called, my prince?’ you ask carefully, trying to keep your tone even.

‘I did,’ he says with a delicate shrug. ‘I thought I could use entertainment, and you were there…’

You smile beneath your helm. You were always there. Astarion tries to hide it a little too much, but there’s no one else he would seek out to keep him entertained when his mood is like this. He tries to play into the expectations everyone has of him. That he’s ambitious, unpredictable, easy to rile up. The truth of the matter is that Astarion longs for you in a way that he will never admit except into the curls of your hair when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. You care for him — love him — and there’s nothing you adore more than the way he laughs around you as though you were born for him and him alone.

‘I take it the court wasn’t too uneventful,’ you say.

He grimaces. ‘I saw Lord Gortash, unfortunately. I believe the sight of him has ruined my week.’

‘So cruel,’ you hum. You touch the buckles of your cape and release it from your bodice.

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Astarion asks defensively, playfully.

You touch the latch of your armor. ‘He’s head of the city guard.’

‘I ought to fire him,’ the prince says darkly. ‘Hire a new one.’

‘Who would protect the city instead?’

‘You,’ Astarion says without pause.

‘Alas, I am duty bound to serve the prince,’ you disagree. You pull the weight of your chest piece off your shoulders and drop it to the floor. ‘How can I serve the city when my mind is filled with nothing but you?’

Astarion smiles, a true smile. ‘Oh, you honor me. You truly mean every word.’

‘Without question,’ you promise.

You think about kneeling before him and looking up at him, but your chest piece is still in the way. You pull and untangle and twist until it all slides to the floor, leaving you in a simpler top. His honor, a single white rose, is pinned to the front of your shirt. You can still remember the day he gave it to you, the day you knelt in the throne room and he pressed his sword to your shoulder to claim you.

‘You are mine,’ Astarion says slowly.

‘I am yours,’ you repeat fondly.

‘Until the end of time?’

‘Until the end.’

‘And,’ Astarion begins playfully, ‘if I asked you to please me?’

‘I would be duty bound,’ you reply.

‘Then may I ask you to please me?’ he murmurs, eyes dangerous.

Astarion practically preens under your careful attention, his eyes unwavering as he watches you. You take your time. You remove the rest of your armor slowly, savoring the hungry way he watches. Even in court when you are his shadow, Astarion barely hides it. The hunger. The longing. The darkest of desires. He would claim you in public if it wouldn’t be a scandal.

You lower yourself before him, groveling on your hands and knees. You place your head in his lap and sigh when he threads his fingers through your hair. These are the moments you live for. When he is no longer a prince and you are no longer a knight. You are you, and Astarion is Astarion.

You don’t have to wonder where his mind is. Not during times like these. He’s anxious to feel you, but you take your time in this. You slip his fancy boots from his feet then take your time undoing his belts and buttons, sliding everything down his lean legs with careful intent. His cock greets you, already half hard and growing still.

It still makes you nervous, deep down inside. Astarion is a prince and the pinnacle of perfection. He could have any duke or duchess he wanted, yet it’s you he takes care of when the standing watch for hours on end from dusk til dawn has caused your bones to grow weary. The least you could do is love him like this. You lean forward and kiss the side of his cock, and Astarion’s fingers tighten in your hair.

‘Please, your highness,’ you whisper.

You are perched at his feet still awaiting commands. Like a good little pup. You shiver.

‘Go on,’ Astarion encourages.

You barely stick the tip of your tongue out and watch as his cock throbs in anticipation. This is dangerous. Obscene, even. You’ve seen him hundreds of times yet it still excites you. Carefully, you take him into your mouth and admire his debauched moan.

You have half a mind to tease him, but when you glance upwards at him, he’s as pretty as an aasimar. Or something worse, but you don’t give yourself much time to think about it. You know his desires. What he enjoys. What he tolerates for you. You know Astarion likes your little hums as you glide your mouth over his cock. He likes being pampered more than anything.

Astarion’s hand is tender as he moves your bangs out of your eyes. It’s the eye contact he wants. He likes to see and always acts like it’s the first time. He holds the edge of your jaw while you rub the tip of his cock against the inside of your cheek, eyebrows scrunching. It’s divine for you as well.

Astarion lives for the pomp and circumstance, absolutely devours court rumors with a delight you barely understand — but he would let his kingdom fall into the Underdark if it meant he could spend every hour of every day fucking you.

It’s the same for you.

It always has been ever since your coronation.

You were not like the other knights who were born into houses of servitude, second born sons and daughters who were the spares of their family names. You were given to Astarion by Lord Gortash as a way to buy favor from the crown. You were once his favorite, well-trained dog.

But unlike Lord Gortash, you are coveted by the crown in a way no other knight has been before. Astarion kisses you every morning and finishes against your spine every evening. But he is your salvation, your savior, and you are on your knees to show what that means to you.

Astarion stirs beneath your ruminations, his thighs tensing beneath your elbows, his hips doing those unconscious lusty jerks that you like so much. His head falls back as he gets lost in the feel of your tongue and mouth and he moans so sweetly that it almost distracts you from your ministrations. You take his cock as far back into your mouth as you can manage, closing your eyes to squeeze out any embarrassing tears that might threaten to fall. Like the prettiest bird, he sings for you.

‘Wait,’ he moans. ‘Not yet, I want — ’

You pull away from him as commanded, licking your lips clean of spit. His hands dance frantically against your shoulders as he pulls you up against him, cock hard against both of your bellies. He kisses you hotly, one hand fisting in your hair and the other tugging uselessly at your shirt.

‘You are needy today, my prince,’ you whisper against a barrage of kisses.

‘You were too perfect,’ he whines. ‘Always perfect for me.’

You laugh against his cheek. ‘You did say to please you.’

‘And now I’m saying to get on the fucking bed,’ Astarion fusses. ‘Oh, and clothes off. I want to see you.’

‘Yes, your — ’ you begin.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses with an affectionate pinch to your side, ‘are being quite the obstinate charge tonight. I want to taste you and be tasted in return, but be familiar with me, my love. Come back to me. Share my bed.’

You are in the middle of doing as he requests, sitting with one leg on either side of his thighs when he slides his hands to your waist and forces you to roll to the side. He pushes you further into the many adorning pillows of his bed and starts devouring you, his mouth dancing from your neck to your collarbones while he tears your shirt apart with his hands, though he does slow down enough to place the white rose on the bedside table. He pushes his palms flat against your chest and leaves bite marks and bruises across your chest and down your belly, chasing after you as you try to squirm away. Astarion finally takes interest in leaving his mark on your throat.

You set to work pushing your leggings and small clothes down your thigh, but Astarion, in all his impatience, gets in the way of that too. He presses his thigh between your legs on purpose, rolling his cock against your hip while his thigh applies almost perfect pressure to the most sensitive parts of you.

You moan and turn your face away, but Astarion chases the sound. He nuzzles your noses together until you look at him, bleary and dazed, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He rolls his hips again with intent. He catches the sound of your moan on the tip of your tongue and returns it, his own ragged breath warm against your cheek.

‘There you are, my love,’ he whispers deliciously. ‘I’ve missed you. My treasure, my pet…’

‘Yours,’ you moan.

‘Mine,’ Astarion agrees. ‘All mine.’

He drags his fingernails across the swell of your hip, and you can’t help but chase the curve of his wrist. Your cheeks burn, but you’re tempted to beg him. To ask if he’ll please you with his hands. You want to feel his fingers pressed up inside you, to feel them curl and twist. You want it more than anything else you’ve ever wanted to. Astarion watches the way you twist and turn with a small smile on his face. He pets your hip and slides his fingers between your thighs. You can feel the cool of his jeweled rings against your heated flesh.

Astarion is grateful for your reckless display. He acquiesces to your silent begging, brushing his fingers between your folds and pressing the tip of his middle finger against you. He watches with delight as you grind against the pressure. His cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears are ruddy, and though he’s pretending to be controlled right now, you can hear how shaky his breath has become.

And then, like a god answering a prayer, he presses a finger inside of you so painstakingly slow it’s almost maddening. You mewl, watching his expressions in fascination, because his own mouth falls open as he cranes his next to watch. He adds another. He twists and twirls his fingers as deeply as he can reach it. His eyes flutter with desperation. He’s so beautiful that you can hardly stand it. You want more, so much more, and you press your wrist against your mouth to keep from begging.

‘Don’t hide from me,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I want to hear everything. Please, sing for me.’

‘More,’ you whisper thickly. ‘More, I need more, I want more.’

He kisses your jaw sloppily. ‘I’ll give you everything.’

‘It’s not enough!’

‘You’ll take it,’ Astarion tells you. ‘You’ll take what I give.’

‘Astarion,’ you weep. ‘I want you. I want — ’

This time, he might as well have ripped the rest of your clothes with his haste. You aren’t sure what he does with them, you just know that you’re naked and in his bed, surrounded by all his pillows with your thighs slick from how wet you are.

Your eyes watch your star’s every movement. He rids himself of his finery as well, shrugging out of his layers until there’s nothing left. The moonlight hits his skin prettily, almost as dainty as the way his eyes catch in the candlelight. He chases you, chases your mouth, presses his cock against you and ruts for a moment. You can’t help but be dizzy with lust yourself. You leave your own marks across his collarbones and chest, mindful of his neck and what skin would peek above his elegant collars. You wonder how he’ll take you. Astarion has always been the creative type. Sometimes you’ll ride him, and sometimes he’ll ride you until you see stars. Despite his urgency, he seems tender tonight.

Astarion wants to make you feel good. He wants to find your heat and bask in the warmth. You can tell in the way he watches your face ever so fondly. He’s always been so good at masking how much he prefers you to anyone he’s spoken to before. You’ve stood and listened as the perfect guard during meetings with dignitaries from neighboring cities, and Astarion always spoke to them with practiced politeness bearing a practiced albeit bored undertone. Yet with you, he seems to hang onto your every word. He takes it in until there was nothing left to share. He cares when you are supposed to be nothing more than a knight at his door.

‘I have a gift for you tonight,’ Astarion says suddenly. He blushes. It’s adorable how much it’s unlike him.

‘What is it?’ you ask.

‘Patience,’ he complains, but he doesn’t mean it.

Astarion reaches for something just beyond your sight, and when he sits back up, you feel as though someone has released a cage of birds in the pit of your stomach. He holds out a small silver band for your inspection. ‘A warding ring,’ he explains. ‘I had my Master of the Arcane enchant it for you — for us.’

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. ‘Please.’

‘Put it on first,’ he insists. ‘For me.’

Something must show on your face, because he’s quick to show you his own hand. There is a matching silver band there, and it causes your heart to swell so much you think your heart will give out. Astarion, with great care, slides the band onto your finger and then looks at you, hopeful.

‘Whatever you feel, I shall feel,’ he says like a promise. ‘You and I, together.’

You guide his mouth to yours before you can do something silly like cry. When you touch his chest, intent on finding his heartbeat, you can feel it so frantic against your palm.

What is a better story than a prince and his knight? A savior and his sword? The bards will sing forever about the prince and his favored knight, their matching rings, their sacred vows. You ache with longing. You surge with love. It is all Astarion’s fault.

You push your hands through his thick curls and guide him to lie on top of you. You can feel the ring humming with magic. Though you are sure this isn’t its intended use, you can’t help but feel nervous.

You take him into your arms. He collapses into you and your only thought is that it’s a little poetic. You have caught a star as it fell from the sky. Now, it rests in your hands again and again and again until, slowly, you cannot exist without one another. His mouth finds yours, and your hands with the matching rings reach out for one another as though choreographed. Astarion presses you against his sheets and you willingly let him devour you once more. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Astarion kisses down your chest again. He kisses your tummy and all the muscle you’ve earned from being a knight. He kisses every scar from every battle you’ve ever endured all the way down to your hips, to that warm core that lies between them. You moan unapologetically, head rushing until you’re almost positive you’re going to faint. Astarion presses a kiss between your legs, growls as though he was a man starved before finding you, and takes you into his mouth.

It’s a little romantic how you’ve grown together. You were each other’s firsts — Astarion taught you how to kiss, and you taught him how to fondle someone else’s body without feeling shy about it. You had first used your mouth on him, but he had taken all of the knowledge you had given and weaponized it against you the next moment that he could. He’s determined to please, desperate for compliments, hopeless in all his endeavors to please you almost as much as you’ve pleased him. But unlike you, Astarion is selfish and he reaches for fruit to pluck that anyone else would have discarded as soon as something better came along. He chose you.

He licks and bites and nuzzles and feasts upon the very fruit of you, groaning at how you taste. It’s his favorite taste in the world, and he would brag about it if it didn’t make your cheeks flush. He laps at your folds hungrily and squeezes the thickness your thighs until they’ve bruised.

‘Little star,’ you whine, pressing your hands to your eyes. ‘Please, please.’

His tongue is like torture. Astarion never does anything without fully committing, and from your time together, you know he’s memorized every little thing he can do to drive you absolutely wild. He’s pulled your legs over his shoulders, his fingers moving on after bruising them to dig into your hip bones, and he hums so prettily for you.

Even you aren’t sure what you’re begging for. You want Astarion to stop teasing you so insistently. You want to feel his heartbeat, you want to taste his lips. There’s a part of you so empty and full of longing that if you wait any longer, if you withhold anymore, you might lose yourself. The only thing serving to ground you to this world is depravity, twisting carnal lust, and the depths of your love. You shiver under his touch and moan even as you try to hush it.

‘ — star!’ you cry sharply.

You try to twist out of his grasp, crying at how determined he is, but Astarion simply drags you back down to where he is as if it’s nothing to him. He doesn’t stop torturing with your tongue until you’ve choked out a sob and chased your release, chest heaving from the effort. He doesn’t let you go for long either, climbing up your body so that he can press encouraging kisses to your jaw, pushing your damp curls back from your temple.

Astarion pushes his nose against your ear and breathes in, almost so desperate to have memorized your very scent. It’s always been his little habit. As if just by knowing your smell, he is able to do whatever he needs to accomplish in this world.

‘You,’ he murmurs between kisses, ‘are always so magnificent for me.’

You reach for his hip, the back of your knuckles sweeping against his sharp bone. ‘I want to do the same for you,’ you say shakily. ‘Let me have you, please. It’s all I want.’

He moans, soft and quiet, and settles between your legs. He kisses you again with that same hunger. The same, almost desperate kind of lust. He presses you so far into his sheets that you’re not sure you’ll ever be released from them again. And you think you would be fine with that. There’s nothing more that you want than to stay here with him. His hands joined with yours, your hips pressed to his, forever until the world has ended.

You slide your hands across the broad sweep of his shoulders and feel as his muscles shift. He is so gentle with you even when he doesn’t have to be. He’s cautious, meticulous, almost ridiculously polite because it’s you. His love is like an apology for everything you’ve been through, and when he cradles the back of your head, you lean into his touch.

‘You are mine,’ he says tenderly. His thumb sweeps across your cheek.

‘Take me,’ you say hungrily. ‘I am your prize.’

‘You were created by the gods for me,’ Astarion tells you sincerely. He sits onto his knees and pulls your hands flush against his stomach. ‘Look at how well you fit against me.’

You were never one to be shy before, but his praise causes you to turn your cheek aside and look away. He pushes his hands up your thighs, searching, admiring. He says pretty words, but he’ll never understand if you were to repeat the things he’s said back to him. Underneath that prestigious bravado and practiced façade, Astarion still understands little of his own divinity and worth. You’re thankful for him as much as he is for you, and you allow him this. He finds his worth at your core and marvels in it, allowing you to see him as Astarion. Like a mortal making a deal with a cambion, he reaches for you.

‘Do you want me inside of you?’ he asks in a graveled voice.

‘More than anything else,’ you reply, choking on how thick your want is. You think about how it feels every time he’s claimed you and shudder. ‘Please.’

‘I am going to get lost in you for hours,’ Astarion promises. He smiles, dangerous and dark. ‘When you return to your post, you’ll feel me still. You’ll be sorer than you’ve ever been.’

You are so aroused it’s painful. You ache and twist, spreading your legs so that he might take you then and there without so much as a second thought. You need the closeness. His grounding touch. His cock, as much as it would embarrass you to say aloud, has been on your mind ever since he invited you inside his room. He strokes your hip.

‘You’re shaking,’ he says fondly.

He leans forward and kisses you. He connects with you like that, nose brushing yours affectionately, before he stares at the little shivers you’re now aware you’re doing. He sees everything, knows everything. It delights him.

And then he slides his cock into you. Slowly, agonizingly, inch by inch. He squeezes your hip in encouragement, but you’re too full and he’s too thick for you to manage any coherent thought. He’s determined to reach the deepest parts of your core.

Astarion speaks through gritted teeth. ‘You are perfect.’

‘No,’ you say. ‘You are.’

‘I like to watch,’ he says honestly. ‘I like to see how you take me. You’re so tight here, did you know?’

‘More — ’

‘Use your words for me.’

You swallow. ‘I want you — to fuck me.’

‘You’ve been a good pup,’ Astarion says with a small laugh. ‘I’ll make love to you until dawn calls.’

For the faintest few heartbeats, this is the only way you want to exist. He is pressed inside of you, and you are surrounded by nothing but him and his scent and his bed and his pretty words, longing so intently to memorialize this moment. Astarion is haloed by the silver moonlight. He shines prettier than the crown he wears at court.

He shines brighter than the stars.

You’re aware of how fragile your breathing sounds. You forcefully drag air down into your lungs and hold his gaze, so warm and soft when he looks at you. You don’t know why it’s so different this time with him, but you reach out until he entwines your fingers together and you lose yourself in a way you haven’t before. You don’t realize you’re crying until he coos at you and calls you beautiful.

Astarion only moves once he’s assured you’re not in any pain. He’s conscious of the way you tense, but you shake your head and try to dry your tears.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t really sure why you’re so emotional tonight. You’re ignoring what the rings promise on purpose. A meaning that you are too nervous to confront. You know it’s how much you wish this was your fate. It all comes to a boil when he leans forward and kisses the tip of your ear. Astarion wraps his arms around you and moans softly in your ear, the heat of his cheek flush against your temple.

‘I love you,’ he whispers.

‘I can feel you,’ you whisper back, voice uneven. ‘All the way inside.’

‘Our souls are touching tonight,’ Astarion promises you. ;This is what I want to give you.’

Once he’s assured that you’re fine, Astarion begins moving inside you. You still feel overly full. It’s almost difficult to breathe, that you’re so aware of how deep his cock is inside of you — as if it’s the first time you’ve experienced him before. He murmurs encouragement into your hair and ruts further and further, but when you press your fingers against his biceps, you can feel how he’s shaking too.

‘Let me be yours,’ you say softly, eyes fluttering closed. ‘Let me be with you, Astarion, please.’

‘You are my pretty consort,’ Astarion says fiercely. ‘You belong to me, and I to you.’

His consort, his knight. The one he comes home to, that he ignores all the other lovely people at court for. The idea of it makes your blood warm, makes you feel a little wild and different. You rock your hips back against Astarion’s. Feeling him lose what little of his control pushes you over the edge. You start mumbling nonsensically, thank you, thank you, my prince, my star, thank you, I feel it, Astarion and he growls low in the bottom of his throat. His hips stutter against yours and you know with a little wiggle, you could make him spend then and there.

It’s only when Astarion pushes into you as far as he can go, the tip of his cock pressed as deep into your core as you can handle it, that you remember what a devout worshiper you are. You’re fully aware of how your spine protests the way your back arches up off the bed. You feel Astarion’s mouth hot and desperate against the side of your throat, his hands slowly sliding down your skin to grip your hips, the tips of his fingers digging in harshly to the curve of your ass.

When you dare meet his gaze, you’re mesmerized.

Astarion has always been the most beautiful person you’ve ever set eyes on. The height of his cheekbones, the way they flush when you moan his name. His uneven smile, the way his teeth point when he laughs. His intense eyes that take in even your faintest moves. He is sharp and calculated, cunning and keen on dramatics — but underneath, you can see the gentler side. The warmth in his gaze. The way he laughs ugly with you instead of with practiced finesse. You fit rather well together. Perfectly, like a puzzle. Intoxicatingly. He catches you staring and his breath catches in his throat.

You must be quite the sight as well. Astarion always lavished you with the utmost attention, often buying you things you’d never need as a knight. Rings, gowns, circlets and other finery to wear with him on your occasional strolls through Baldur’s Gate when you were off-duty and carefree.

You feel nearly feral at this moment. It takes all your self-control to not rake your nails down his spine or bite his shoulder because you’re too full and he’s too much and you’re almost certain you’re going to explode, but you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him tighter to you until there’s almost nothing else he can do that grind uselessly, desperate sounds coming from both of your mouths as you try to hold on just a little longer.

Without thinking, without caution, you whisper, ‘Inside — Tonight, I want you to — ’

‘Gods,’ he chokes out. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’

‘Please,’ you beg. ‘I’ve been good. I’ve been — ’

Astarion burrows his face against your collarbone, whining unceremoniously. That’s when you can feel it, his cum, hot and warm, so wonderful and dizzying that you also forget to be dignified. Your fingers stutter against his skin, and if it was painful to experience, the only proof is the way Astarion hisses at the burn and coils dangerously beneath your touch.

‘That’s it,’ he soothes proudly. ‘You’ve done well, my sweet.’

You murmur, ‘So much.’

‘Don’t tease me,’ Astarion says. He pouts his bottom lip. ‘You’re quite beautiful, you know.’

‘Not as beautiful as you,’ you say.

‘Well,’ Astarion allows with a small laugh, ‘I am rather perfect, I agree.’

He groans when he pulls away from you, brow furrowed in concentration. He trembles with exertion, and whatever other plans he might have had are forgotten, for Astarion drops down into his sheets beside you in all his naked and exhausted glory and presses close to you, an arm thrown over your waist.

A pang of guilt hits you at the sight of his closed door. Your armor is thrown carelessly across this floor, and while you wish you could enjoy this moment of bliss with him, you must continue to do your actual duty of guarding the prince. You move, delicate, to stand up. Astarion wraps his other arm around you.

‘Where are you going?’ he demands tiredly. ‘The sun is not yet up. Come back.’

‘My post — ’

‘Fuck your post,’ he snorts. ‘Your only duty is to lie in my bed and look pretty.’

You open your mouth to protest, but Astarion fusses. It’s hard to deny him even though you know only what the Captain of his Kingsguard has instilled in you. The moonlight is a gorgeous embellishment on his skin, and the ridges of his body are enticing enough that you forget your vows for the time being. Your heart squeezes at the tenderness. Astarion welcomes you back into his arms without further complaint. It’s your turn to tuck your head against his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his body as he cradles you close.

‘This is where you belong,’ Astarion tells you plainly. ‘You and I belong in bed having forgotten our other duties forevermore. The kingdom may fall to rot and ruin for all I care. As long as I have you, I care not.’ He touches your hip. ‘I know what you must be thinking. That it isn’t that easy. But it is that easy. I’m the prince and I want it to be so. I see our fate in my dreams.’

You allow yourself to daydream and doze for the moment. He’s murmuring sweet things into your hair, and your eyes are so heavy you know when you close them, it’ll be hard for you to wake up if you give in. The ache in your muscles is comforting. It’s a reminder of all the ways Astarion has ever had you, and you can’t help but wonder if this really is where your life was always meant to head.

You do fall asleep. Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you fall into a peaceful slumber with Astarion’s hand petting your spine. When you next awake, Astarion is no longer at your side. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed staring out of the window watching as dawn begins to peek through.

He hasn’t left you entirely alone. He’s draped his many fancy satin blankets over you and somehow managed to coax your head onto a pillow without waking you. You’re almost inspired to fall back asleep at the sight, but the view of Astarion basking in an orange glimmer keeps you from entering the depths of your mind once more.

‘No,’ Astarion says. He’s smiling. ‘Don’t move. I like the way you look.’

‘And how do I look, your highness?’

‘Sated.’

‘Come back to me, my love,’ you say. You try to hold one of your hands out, but you’re still so very tired from before. You press your cheek further into the pillow. ‘’m cold.’

‘I was thinking,’ he says.

‘Enough thinking,’ you whine. ‘I miss you beside me.’

‘Promise me something first.’

‘What shall I promise?’

‘That when I am king, you will help me create my new world,’ Astarion says, peering affectionately at you from over his shoulder. ‘A world where you are both my shield and my consort. A world where no one else like us has to get hurt.’

You start to sit up at that, blood suddenly rushing to your head as you try to think of what he means. Were you not already his Shield, extending your Sword to his greatest foes? Were you not already his Consort in all but proper name? You furrow your eyebrows, too sleepy and overwhelmed, but Astarion is quick to come to your side, to press kisses into your hair and against your ear and at the tears on your cheeks.

‘When I am king, there will be no need for us to hide like this,’ Astarion promises, petting his hand comfortingly down your spine. He shushes you. ‘I will sit on the throne and you will sit beside me.’ When he’s certain you’re done crying, he adds, ‘Or in my lap, if you prefer.’

Somehow, there’s only one thing you can manage to say. ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ Astarion says. ‘That’s why I will do this for us.’

‘Will it go well?’

He hums. ‘Of course it will go well. I will be king. I will make it go well.’

You say again, ‘I love you.’

‘We are the Prince and his Shield,’ Astarion tells you sweetly, voice melodic in your ear. ‘This will be our world. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we will do as we are meant to do.’

‘I promise,’ you say, ‘to help you.’

‘Then say no more, my love,’ he whispers. He kisses the side of your throat again and slowly pulls his silk sheets away from your skin. The cold morning air leaves a trail of gooseflesh down your spine, and he tastes every knot of it with his mouth and tongue. He gives you commands, ‘Let me have you again. You’re so beautiful in the morning light. I need you now more than ever. Gods, the things you do to me.’

You rock your hips back to meet his. It’s an alluring situation straight from your wildest, most longing of dreams — a world where you might sit alongside Astarion as he rules, no longer a simple guard dog to follow commands, but something else. Something sweeter.

It was like marriage but better. The thought of you and Astarion rising to godhood through his own determined means rather than falling into the same song the bards often liked to play on unrequited love. You allow him to trace his fingers down your stomach to that place between your legs, your warm core where you’re certain he’s found his divinity. Astarion presses his cock against your lower back and gives into his own avarice. He bites your shoulder almost a touch too rough and leaves a bruise in the shape of his teeth, reveling in your shocked cry.

You want him.

You want to be by his side, to kneel at his feet. You want to watch him dress in the mornings and fall into his arms every evening. You want to place his crown atop his brow. You arch your hips against his waist, and ponder about the creation of the empyrean heavens above. You will guide him to become celestial.

It’s with a near untamed fervor that Astarion tears through his sheets to get to you. He slides his knee beneath yours and pushes it forward, his breath warm and hiccuped against the blade of your shoulder. He doesn’t hurt you and he never would, but he slides his cock inside, the tenderness of earlier forgotten.

‘Be loud,’ he encourages you, groaning, his hand still scrambling against the arc of your belly. He sounds debauched. ‘Let them all hear. Let them know.’

He fucks into you like he wants you both to grow together. One body and one soul. You’re glad for it. It only intensifies the burn from the evening and pushes you to a place you’ve never been before. You’re almost certain you see sparks in your vision, but you do as asked. You don’t swallow down your moans. They’re taut, sharp, staccato ah-ah-ahs that match the sun’s rise.

It’s almost sweet how hard Astarion fucks into you. His princely demeanor is gone now, the control he tries to exhibit. He moans freely as well and kisses without meaning. Your shoulder, the back of your head, the nape of your neck, and he’s babbling things that don’t make sense. But you’re no better. Your cheeks are so warm you’re feverish, hands clenched in his sheets, and the pleasure borders on welcomed pain when he sits up behind you, knee still forcing you to be pliant, as he drags his cock in and out of you from behind. Astarion is watching again, one hand on your lower back, the other on your ass. When you try to hide your face in mild embarrassment, he scolds you.

‘Let me see you,’ Astarion rasps. ‘Let me see, I want to see everything — ’

So you let him, shifting and arching as much as your back will let you. Your muscles feel strained. Your mind is hardly there. But the prince has asked, and it would be rude of you to not heed his call. It’s not as though it matters. You’re easily distracted by the way he presses himself in and out of you, intoxicated by the gravitational pull he’s created between you. You can’t help but lean into his every touch, to mewl, to whine the exact way he likes.

You wonder what Lord Gortash would think of his loyal dog if he saw it now. You were taught the blade and the bow, how to use a lance and a shield, and you were never meant to be anything more than a warrior given to the ground so that he could get on the good side of the king. There isn’t much of your life you can remember before you were brought to the steps of the throne room and thrown down before the prince and his father. All you remember is looking up and seeing an angel smiling down at you.

So you arch your back and push up into your elbows, looking over your shoulder to catch Astarion’s eyes. He’s constantly looking between your face to make sure you’re alright and looking down at your hips where your bodies meet. He has the audacity to blush. It makes him look sweet and less severe.

‘More — ’

The fairest thought you have is that you’re not sure you can take more. There’s something ferocious building in the pit of your stomach, a volatile hunger unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Your almost delirious with how much greed is inside you, how you long to do this all day if you could. Sitting pretty on your hands and knees and belly while Astarion ravishes you — forgetting your duties and the kingdom — but it’s somehow worse than before when you’re aware that he would do the same. Gone is any sense of decency, replaced by something carnal, something infernal.

Just when you think he might be done with you, Astarion pulls out and drags your body along. He lays handsomely in the center of his pillows, a deep blue and rich satin and silk display, and pulls you into his lap. His bottom lip is ruined from where he’s bitten it in an attempt to maintain control.

He arranges for you as he likes. He tilts his head to the side as if looking upon a painting. Finally, he coaxes you upwards and whispers kind encouragements as you guide and slide his cock back inside of you. You aren’t sure how far it can go, but then it goes deeper and deeper and deeper until you’re sick.

‘Oh,’ you cry sweetly. ‘It’s too much. It’s too much, I can’t — ’

‘You can,’ Astarion promises, rubbing his thumb across your hip. ‘You can do anything. You were made for me, and I was made for you, and we were created for this.’

You sit atop him, your ass flush against his hips, and try desperately to not squirm in his lap. The wiggling makes it worse, you think. You feel swollen around him. He feels thickest inside of you. And you can’t help but lean forward as he rubbs his hands up and down your spine, kissing your temple and cheek and jaw. You can kiss him better this way. You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, taste his words.

‘I love you,’ you say over and over.

‘I know,’ he murmurs, kissing your tears.

And you do cry in this position, overwhelmed and stuttering. Astarion guides your hips back and forth across his so that he’s not necessarily drilling inside of you, but watching how you dance across his cock. He always watches so intently as if he’s afraid to miss anything you do. He guides you intently, humming, tensing beneath your thighs as you try to balance yourself with your hands on his belly.

Astarion moans at the sight. He sounds positively wrecked. You decide that you want to hear him sing for you again, so you raise your hips this time and slide them back down. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, treating it more like trying to hit a tricky shot with an arrow rather than taking and un-taking every inch of his cock. You’re trembling so much that you seek out his hands, guiding them away from your hips so he can tuck them under your thighs for help.

‘Ah,’ Astarion says hoarsely. ‘Fuck.’

And that’s how he helps you, his hands helping carry your weight so that you can bounce on his cock and enjoy every minute of it. The physical strain is worth it. You know Astarion likes to watch, possessive of the way you look and ride, and his eyes shine with a certain kind of deviance that you’ve grown to love.

It’s a long way from where you started as a poor soul standing on the steps, but you lean forward and kiss your raison d'être on his open mouth, savoring the way his bruised lip tastes in your mouth, enjoying just how much he enjoys you. The sunlight warms your skin and basks Astarion in a golden glow, so impossibly handsome that they should write songs about the way he looks after a night of lovemaking. He groans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard enough you’re almost certain he’s drawn blood.

You don’t mind it. You welcome the rougher things, enjoy them as much as he does. You lean back, hands now behind you on his thighs, and try to not feel too self-conscious about how open you’re being with your body. You’re encouraged to do it. His reactions are what drive you to be better. Because Astarion’s eyes widen slightly to take in the sight of your legs spread apart as you sit on his cock, your skin shining with a delicate veil of sweat. He comes with a rough moan.

Gods, you could listen to the sound of him all day.

You fall forward onto Astarion’s chest. Your limbs feel like nothing after a night of increasingly more difficult sex, but it’s worth it for the way he spoils you after. Astarion kisses you nice and slow, lips and tongue and teeth, as if an apology for the roughness you willingly endured. He cradles you close to his body. He always seeks your warmth, always tries to press as close as he can.

It’s your turn to preen under his careful ministrations. Astarion pushes your sweaty hair back from your face and runs the tips of his fingers across your cheekbones and forehead, following the delicate lines of your bone structure. He lightly pinches your cheeks as if to savor the heat of your blush, but it doesn’t hurt when he does it. He kisses them better. He helps you slide back down into his sheets and takes note of the mess, smoothing his fingers against the bruises and love bites he’s left as gifts against your skin.

Astarion takes gentle care as he lifts your hand. He admires the ring on it and watches as he slides his fingers into yours so that his ring can crowd the empty spaces of your fingers. He kisses the back of your hand like a proper prince and then unceremoniously collapses down by your side, boneless and lazy.

‘You’ve made a mess,’ you accuse him sleepily.

‘I made you happy,’ Astarion corrects.

You reach out and touch his throat. ‘You’ve ruined your sheets.’

‘These sheets are perfect, my love,’ he murmurs. ‘Just like you.’

Later in the morning, after you’ve rested again despite your attempts to stay awake, you’re coaxed back into existence by Astarion’s lips dancing softly against the nape of your deck. You’re almost certain he’s going to ask for more — a thought that startles you — but instead he lifts you from the depths of his blankets and carries you to a bathing tub in the corner of his quarters. He lowers you into freshly warmed water, and you try to not let how much you long for him show.

‘The maids — ’

‘They’ve seen you,’ he says with a shrug. ‘But they did not care. You should have heard the way they swooned over us.’

He lavishes you again with rose petals and fancy perfumes and soaps. He guides a cloth over your skin and even massages a rather determined knot in your hip. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. You’d let him pamper you for the next month if you could.

‘I will have you like this often,’ Astarion warns. ‘Tonight. Every night. You have no idea what you’ve done to me. It’s like you’ve enchanted me.’

He’s climbed in with you at this point, tucked behind you so that he can style your hair in a plait. He likes the way it’s gotten long. You can tell how hard he’s thinking by how silent he is. His fingers trickle water down your spine and occasionally trace the shape of a petal against your skin. You shiver and allow him these idle distractions, basking in his touches and singing while he allows himself to wander in his lost thoughts. You fall asleep again briefly, lulled into a dream by the warmth and the relaxing scents of the many perfumes and Astarion humming softly in your ear.

Astarion washes your chest again to avoid having to leave the bath. He’s in one of his contemplative moods, eyes somewhere a thousand miles away, lips twisted in curiosity. You would’ve stayed forever as well, but the water is slowly getting colder and you’re beginning to shiver. You look over your shoulder at him. You watch as his eyelashes flutter and close as if he too is moments away from falling asleep, but then you see it. A sign of melancholic hope.

‘You and I belong together,’ you tell him.

‘We are the greatest match together the world has ever seen,’ Astarion agrees. ‘There is no one else.’

‘It is an honor,’ you say. You catch a petal in your palm and show him.

He pulls your fingers up to his mouth with his own hand guiding you. He kisses your palm and the petal, and then each of your fingertips one by one.

‘I’m doing this for you, you know,’ he murmurs.

‘You are doing this for us,’ you say, shaking your head. ‘We are a family.’

‘We are more than a family,’ he insists. ‘We are more than lovers. Our souls belong together.’

‘I’ve never been happier,’ you say.

Whatever world Astarion is imagining, you’re beginning to see it too. A world where being a king means more than throwing extravagant parties and hosting masquerades and balls and ignoring those in need. Astarion cares because you care, and that makes your heart squeeze dangerously. You are with Astarion when he usurps his father’s court. He had called them weak-willed men in front of his own council, his lip curled in distaste. They had allowed a shadow ruler to take his father’s place for years, had controlled the crown like a puppeteer would his prized puppet. And now, Astarion has pulled together enough favor to overthrow those who had betrayed him, who had betrayed you, and who had betrayed Baldur’s Gate most of all.

‘I believe you are sitting in my chair,’ Astarion calmly tells Ketheric Thorm.

The removal of the pretenders is fairly certain. Ketheric’s own daughter Isobel aids in his arrest. The installation of Astarion’s council is relatively easy with such esteemed replacements. Wyll Ravengard takes his father’s place as Lord Commander of the Flaming Fist. Karlach takes Enver Gortash’s place as leader of the city guard, betrayed as you were, and her eyes burn with heat when she pulls him from his tower. Gale and Shadowheart had been planning the entire thing for years behind the scenes, favoring Astarion against the old court. All you do is stand beside Astarion with your hand on the hilt of your blade though no one dared raise their arms against him.

Astarion’s coronation takes place later that week, and even with all the planning, he does not allow you to stray from his side. You are with him when meeting with the emissaries Lady Lae’zel and Lord Halsin and Lady Jaheira. You are with him during his fittings. You are with Astarion the night before when he fucks you so hard you see stars.

You are there the day of his coronation. He is dressed in brilliant reds and off-whites and wears a crown with rubies. You stand alongside him in the armor he commissioned for you styled after Dame Aylin’s and hold the sword gifted to you from the crown.

It is a wedding as well.

A wedding of peace and resilience. A wedding of love and understanding.You drop down before him to one knee and swear anew your vows, though now they taste sweeter on your tongue. I am the Sword of the Crown, the Shield of the Realm, the Consort of the Chosen. I serve no one but the Rightful King, the First of His Name, the Soul of Truth, Astarion Ancunin. When you rise, Astarion kisses you.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #* et toi，et moi

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honeyed-hedonist · 6 days

Text

SFW:

Rarely cooks for himself because he’s always on the go, but when he does find the time to whip up a meal, it’s always the best thing you’ve ever tasted.

Dry sense of humor, but will crack a smile (and sometimes even a laugh) despite himself at your puns/jokes/general silliness

Stubborn as all hell. Will fight tooth and nail with you over the dumbest shit just because he’s so obstinate.

Speaking of stubborn, good luck getting this man to admit he was wrong. You could draft a whole essay in MLA format with a PowerPoint presentation on why, in fact, he’s completely wrong and he’ll still look you dead in your eyes and say “That proves nothing. I’m right.” Sir, no you are not, let me count the ways.

Don’t let that deter you though! He apologizes for his stubbornness in other ways--whether it’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers or bringing you coffee in the morning, he’s a man of action, not words.

Stoic and standoffish when you first meet him. It takes him a little while to soften, and there’s a big part of him that wants to cave, to break down those walls and open himself back up, but he fights it every time. Despite that, he craves softness and warmth, so when you come along to give it to him in droves, it’s a losing battle for him to keep you at arm’s length

Once those walls are down it’s like night and day. He’s handsy, can’t keep them to himself. He’s always gotta be touching you in some capacity if only to remind himself that you’re real and he needs to cherish every moment he gets with you because he knows better than most how quickly things can change.

Will always make time for you. Doesn’t matter the time of day or night, doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you call and he’s on his way.

Uses all sorts of pet names on you in English and Spanish. Mi cielo (my heaven/sky), mi alma (my soul), chula (cutie), reinita (little queen), mi amor (my love), babe/baby, angel, sweetheart, sunshine, and bunny to name a few. If it’s sweet and makes you fluster, he’s all for it.

Speaks Spanglish a lot, especially when he’s mad. Will switch between both so fast you can hardly keep up, and he’ll stop mid-rant and give you a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders. “My mouth has a mind of its own, bonita. Lo siento.”

Calls you often when the two of you are apart. Can’t end his night without hearing your voice. No matter where he is, you can guarantee your phone will ring right before you fall asleep every single night. He always says he’s just calling you to say goodnight, but then the pair of you end up talking for hours. Not that you mind, the lack of sleep is worth it.

NSFW under the cut 18+ NO MINORS.

NSFW:

Oscillates between a hard and soft dom depending on the day he’s had or the mood he’s in, but regardless of that, he’s always the top.

Eats for his pleasure. When his face is buried between your thighs, it’s not about you, it’s about him and he’ll eat until he’s satisfied, regardless of how desperately you try to shove him off. “Nuh uh, mami, m’not finished yet. Lay back and take it, huh? Be a good girl and let me have my fill. Tastes too damn good.”

Grunts and growls most of the time, but when he’s feeling softer that man 100% whimpers.

A vocal lover--he likes to taunt and tease you, overwhelms you with praise, forces you to answer his questions even in the midst of your fuzzy-headed bliss. “Speak up, princesa. I asked you if you can feel me deep up in that belly. Yeah? There we go. That’s my girl.”

His favorite positions to fuck you in tend to alternate, but he’s a big fan of doggy with his hand around your throat while you’re on your knees with your back to his chest, mainly because it allows him to sink his teeth into your neck and speak absolute filth in your ear. Missionary or a full blown mating press and prone bone are others he enjoys. Also likes to pound into you from below when you ride him--again, this man is all about control so even when you think you have the upper hand, you don’t.

Big on marking you--with his fangs or otherwise. When you ask him to bite you for the first time he goes absolutely feral, fucks you so hard you can’t walk right or sit down for a week, your chest, neck, and back littered with bruises, bite marks, and a prominent puncture wound at the hollow of your throat.

Stamina for days. My guy could spend hours on end fucking you into the mattress and he does every single time. There are no quickies with Miguel--when he makes time for you, he makes time. Will clear out an entire day and dedicate it solely to taking you apart and piecing you back together just so he can do it all over again. “One more round, baby. C’mon, need it. You’re not gonna deprive me, are you? Nah--you know better. Open up for me, chula, just like that.”

Big breeder balls. (Sorry, I don’t make the rules.) My boy will stuff you so fucking full. Practically cums buckets and loves to watch it ooze out of your abused little hole when he’s finished pumping several loads inside you. “Lookit that, huh? Ese pequeño coño está lleno, ¿no?” (That little cunt is stuffed full, isn’t it?)

To be continued…..

#miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #sipderman 2099 #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #smut writing #spiderverse imagine

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spiderpussinc · 9 months

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are the 2099 comics THAT bad in terms of racism plus other weird writing choices??? i'm starved for miguel content and would like to read the original comic run but i keep seeing the debate of the original comics being problematic and/or downright just BAD bad (not to mention miguel is supposed to have mexican heritage but he's straight up a white redhead lol)

Some people may disagree but speaking as a latinx writer; it's bad because it is racist, yes! On multiple fronts!! And beyond that, it's also bad as a complete failure of comics structure and compelling narrative.

Longpost, on readmore;

I say this as a long-time capeshit reader, as politely as possible: Miguel's comics are a *paycheck* book. As in; a series a writer does monthly to be paid for it, but with middling aspirations and downright negative characterization depending on where their mood is.

The first few issues of his 1992 run are relatively complete and well-balanced, may even trick you into thinking this story is going somewhere; but that's only because they're the /character pitch./ Ill skip to the end and tell you upfront. That 1992 series ends with the implosion of the whole "2099" line of comics (an universe that included other books, like ghost rider, doom, etc, by other writers) due to dwindling public interest and mass cancellations. The end of that run is basically meaningless, since the whole thing got retconned - and even before that a guest writer had came in and made mistaken character reveals pdavid wasnt happy with and wanted to erase before the finale. The event book that wrapped up that universe was unironically, literally called -- "2099: Manifest Destiny."

Now, I don't like Peter David's writing. I think he's obsessed with the idea of building harems out of his female characters (when he's not fridging them, or making them act ~crazy~ to further alienate them from the protagonist) and it is the kind of grueling, joyless reading experience I can only describe as making you feel Oily Inside. This goes as far as multiple stalking plotlines, the inclusion of a guest appearance from AU s/x slaver Hulk in later years, Miguel's mother being strongly implied to have been forced into conceiving him by his real dad who's the evil CEO of alchemax, general torture painporn. His broader supporting cast is so interchangeable and disposable that they were literally disposed of.

In terms of the racism; I have mentioned how he uses cultures as tokens and does 0 research whatsoever. The way it feels and the way it is deployed is through a lens of Exoticism - tourism. Miguels suit is allegedly "a dia de los muertos costume" b/c pdavid seems to think that holiday is mexican halloween. In the orig book, you'll see plenty of broken japanese and stereotypical orientalist caricatures - after killing his first love interest, pdavid introduces a japanese girl who is unironically, literally named "Xina" (that pretends to be chinese on occasion) to fill in the vacant role. Miguel himself falls right into all the usual latino stereotypes — short tempered, drug addict, sex magnet "latin lover" (this last one also applied to his brother Gabriel, who for the longest time is characterized by just Going Through A Lot Of Girlfriends). And it's kind of insane bc he's still being drawn as a deeply deeply white man, but not even that takes off the burden of the racial microagressions!!! They're the only times pdavid seems to remember that heritage! Then there's the commemorative hanging page. Since you mention the redheadedness; thats another insane thing to me. He has 0% of irish in him. His dad is Blond. Who is this man?

Most of the info in the 2099 run is either revealed to be a lie midway thru (miguel is not mr o'hara's son, nor addicted to rapture) or completely retconned away to be rewritten in new runs. Different writers have tried to come in and do miguel in other team/event books but frankly nothing stands out and most of them get marked as alternate-miguels. Unfortunately, every time marvel decided to give another shot at spider-man 2099 they also brought pdavid back. The newer books were never a success, and theyre just as filled w/ the garbage i mentioned earlier (wow! Steampunk spider-woman is given to pdavid for *ONE* issue and instantly tonguekisses gabriel before leaving, so novel. More fridging ensues. Stalking. Etc.) 2099 as an *universe* has been retconned so many times Nothing is consistent and Nothing is set on stone and frankly i think they should make it an AU separate from main canon and build a whole new world already.

The art in the 2015 + runs consists mostly of tracing, and more of that oily weird feeling applied to fem chars. Perhaps you have noticed in this entire hate review have never once spoken about Miguel's heroic plots and memorable villains --- he has none. At least nothing I can remember or distinguish. (Interchangeable, disposable, etc) There is a vague inkling of "this is an anti-stabilishment spiderman, he fights against The Public Eye, the Corporation Cops!" at the start but much like his cultural illiteracy pdavid has no real insightful politics commentary, so that dissolves into the background in time. Its all buzzwords. All of his plotlines are solved in circuitous or soap operaish extradrama ways; and while some of this is present in other superhero comics, what stands out to me MOST is how utterly fucking joyless Miguel's comics are. It's like going through a slog on obligation. They genuinely gave me a headache every time.

ATSV does a great job of reinventing Miguel and rebuilding the parts of him that showed real promise. Being a different tone-swapped spiderman, futuristic, being more on the tech-science side of crime fighting. Him being a single dad with a daughter is also new. (And he is single! There is no singular mention of marriage or a wife anywhere, he's a geneticist, multiple spider-men we see in this movie were literal clones made in tubes - i am fond of the idea he's a transmasc dad but even if you think he's cis he could have made that baby himself. Adoption is also always there.) I think its very clear ATSV didn't want to bring any of pdavids major weird shit w fem chars to the big screen on the hopes that miguel gets rebooted eventually. I think he's gay. Nobody can prove me wrong.

On that note, Steve Orlando (queer writer, also wrote for DC's midnighter/apollo) did some of the latest 2022/2023 Miguel miniseries. Another reboot! Those were "2099: Exodus" and "Spider-man 2099: Dark Genesis" - i think its campier/trying to tackle superhero plots more head on and trying to do something wide wacky cast focused at Marvel's personal request, but Miguel's future is very up in the air rn. I do really hope they reboot him into something closer to ATSV with latines at the center soon.

What I always reccomend for people curious abt miguel: read his first 3ish 1992 issues, get a general feel and close the book as soon as you feel annoyed. It won't get better. Remember none of it is canon nor has been relevant in over two decades. If you want to know the wider context of his messy chronology, check out some of the 2099 "all comics" type of youtube videos, theres some pretty easy to digest summarizations if u dont wanna waste ur time reading stuff that just got retconned again lol. Most writers now are operating on vibes and that is a freedom you should also allow yourself in your own fanwork.

Putting his panels out of context can be very funny though. (For further curiosity or tangents, there's always my meta tag)

#meta tag #asks #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #my spider stuff #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #marvel comics #spiderman #itsv #2099

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yannisrandomstuff · 1 year

Note

Submissive gabriel (both) 😩?

🤘😭

(I'll try and finish this, I legit just copy and paste this from my notes to tumblr it took a lot of time jesus)

Bros The type..

TW: NSFW, submissive Angel Gabriel and dom-sub Alternate Gabriel , MDNI please keep scrolling if you aren't comfortable with this

Angel Gabriel

Loves to flirt but manages to be the one that was frustrated in the end

Too shy

Bros the type who doesn't have any experience at all (haha virgin)

He knows and is aware on what sex is but doesn't really have an experience with it

Tells you to stop but wants you to continue

Tells you how much he loves you nom stop while you grind your hips on top of him

"ooOoh that's r-right please k-ugh-keep mooving~"

Hands grips on your waist really hard

Loud asf

Needy

Begs too much

He's the type when he's close to releasing he cries begging you to go on faster

He really likes it when the both of cum together

Cockwarming him

Dom-bottom

Even tho he's a bottom he likes things in his own way he wants to be in control while him being under you or you on top of him (*eye brow go up and down* hindi kona kaya)

Bottom asf but can be a top too (secretly likes to get dominated)

Likes it when you give him head

Loves squeezing you (your chest, waist, thighs, etc.)

In bed he's your servant, he'll do anything

Even tho he's a bottom he likes to be the one doing the after care for you

Really good at doing aftercare

Praise this man

6.7 inch (gahagahahaaNsksksks tangina)

Giving > receiving

"..*huff* please let me...let me have moree.."

B0ndage

Breeding while hes in the bottom

Mark him and he will go crazy

High ass pitched voice

Is a switch but prefers to be a bottom

Uses his wings to warm you up

Alternate Gabriel

He's the type that he will pleasure you using his long ass tounge until you squirm and squeeze his face between your thighs

Knows and very aware what sex is and really likes to do it

He had some experience in the past with his past lovers

Degrades you but praise you afterwards or the other way around (depends on his mood)

"You're doing good my lamb.. You're taking me in so well. Look at that tiny hole. Such a slut"

Deep DEEP thrust either he's the bottom (you riding him) or he's the top

Matingpress is his best and favorite position

Knows how to use his fingers too well

Toys and vibrator? Nah his tounge can do the job

Man can go for hours

"Oh! Haha! You think we're done yet?" Said while he got up, we are just getting started that was just a warm up, be good for me now will you, you can take this just a little more while"

This man has a breeding kink

Loves really loves eating you out

Cock warming

Will warm you up with his wings while you are on top of him

8.7 inch

Strict top when frustrated

Really flustered when pleasured

Loves massaging your chest while you get to ride him

Whenever you tease him he just whines and whines

Grunts so many grunts when he's close

A total brat

He loves it when you beg for him to move his hips upward while you ride him

Sometimes will give you a food with aphrodisiac in it

Any time, any where. (Whenever he feels like it)

Marks all over your thighs and abdomen

Biting kink

Also very good at after care will just tease you tho

My cat force me to do this

#i have so many drafts and i cant even finish them all because of school #i hate math homeworka #the mandela catalogue x reader #alternate gabriel #the mandela catalogue #headcanons #tmc alternate #xreader #the mandela catalogue archangel gabriel #alternate archangel gabriel #tmc #alternate gabriel x reader #smut #inaantok na ako

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

Note

Could you write a headcannon about billy and Freddie when they are older taking care of there s/o who has there period and how they would react or help them with it . If that makes any sense.

Due to the fact that both boys having grown up with the likes of Darla, Mary and Rosa, I’d like to think that Billy and Freddy have a basic understanding on what’s going on with you when the dreaded days of experiencing brutal cramps came for you. (Depending on how bad your period hits, mine doesn’t hurt as badly as others but that don’t mean they aren’t an annoyance.)

Billy is more then willing to do things for you, doing anything and everything that he knows will help in making you more comfortable during what was most possibly your worst few days of your life. So his acts of service love language is on fully display here and it never fails to melt your heart with how much he’s willing to put up with in order of making things a little easier for you.

Chocolate, medicine, cozy blankets, comfortable clothing, favourite stuffed plushie, hot water bottles, comfort movies are amongst the many things Billy would have on hand because don’t we love a man who’s prepared for any and everything?

He’d even offer up being your personal human heater if needs be. He’s not going to fight his fate should you become in need of his warmth and affection when the hot water bottle was beginning to grow lukewarm.

Billy really enjoys being able to take care of you and would automatically wave away any and all inclinations you may have about him possibly being annoyed about being on his hand and fort for you 24/7, claiming that his reasoning for doing all this was that;

A) it’s the right thing

B) he wasn’t about to stand on the sidelines helpless when there was ways that he could pitch in and help

And c) he genuinely doesn’t mind. It’s you after all, his s/o, so of course he’s going to help you! Don’t be a dummy!

He’d attempt in making your favourite comfort food but if that doesn’t work out, a quick nip to the corner shop never hurts.

This boy will make it his mission to make you laugh to get your mind off of the massacre going off in your lower abdomen. Freddy specialises in taking your mind off of things and you couldn’t be more grateful for having him in your life.

Freddy maybe a goof sometimes but he’s your goof all of the time. So it’s impossible to have a shift in moods when this sweet angel is making you laugh up a storm til tears are streaking down your face.

Another more then willing human heater, if anything he probably ditches the hot water bottle and presents himself as the alternative in keeping the cramps at bay. His hand almost as though supper glued to your lower abdomen as his thumb ran comforting strokes across the skin there whilst your cuddled into his side.

He’s got all your movies cued up and ready to go that it might as well be an impromptu movie night within the walls of your bedroom!

I feel like Freddy would give you words of comfort and praise, letting you know how strong you were for going through all this and enduring such pain and yet still being able to make it through to repeat it the next day? Honestly it’s awe inspiring for the lad to have such an strong partner. A superhero is what he calls you, more specifically his favourite superhero. (Yes I think his love language is words of affirmation.)

Freddy is more then willing to fight your period pains if he could but since period pains didn’t have a physical form he takes alternative methods in doing so.

Funny video marathons or cute animal montages that only end up making you cry because they’re so fucking adorable to the point you were inconsolable. Freddy would take everything you say through your blubbering with absolute seriousness.

‘They’re so tiny Freddy! You could put them in your pocket!’

‘You’re absolutely right, you could stuff an entire army of the little guys in your coat pockets.’

‘Right!’

Overall both boys are sweet, attentive and genuine in their care of you. They only want you to get better and are more then dedicated in their efforts in doing so that at some point, you’d have to remind them to take care of themselves because surprise surprise, they’re human and every human has limitations.

I literally can’t think of anything else that they’d do differently from one another without it becoming too repetitive.

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happyandticklish · 1 year

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Headcannon that people in Night Vale can turn their ticklishness on and off like a switch. It’s a choice, not a weakness. Some choose to keep it on for the bonding, humanizing experience of it, and others switch it off as fast as they can. Cecil is one of the few that alternates it constantly, turning it off and on depending on his wildly swinging moods.

However, Carlos isn’t from Night Vale and obviously doesn’t share in this ability. So imagine the first time Cecil discovers that Carlos is ticklish and Carlos is thrashing and begging for even an ounce of mercy as Cecil stares on incredulous, like, just turn it off?? If you don’t like it?? And Carlos thinks he’s making fun of him and is all flustered and annoyed at the same time while giggling out that of course he can’t turn it off. Which makes Cecil stop to take stock of this crazy thing Carlos has just said, and Carlos is forced to awkwardly explain how normal tickling works.

Meanwhile, Cecil finds it to be the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed, because what kind of person is that susceptible to tickling that they can’t even turn it off? Carlos is Mortified TM, but if he’s being honest there’s a tiny part of him that enjoys Cecil fawning over him.

Cecil constantly forgets too, so he’ll bring up the subject of turning it off every time they have a tickle fight, and Carlos gives him the Look before Cecil’s eyes go wide in realization once more.

“Oh that’s right, you can’t! Which is a shame, because I have to admit, that looks like that tickles a lot--certainly more than I could handle.”

Carlos has attempted to tease him back with the knowledge that Cecil must like it then, if he keeps the ability on, but Cecil holds zero shame about it and will openly admit it to others. He’ll waltz into the room and straight-up tell Carlos it’s a ticklish day before calmly going about making breakfast, which ends up flustering Carlos far more than himself.

#tickle headcannon #carlos the scientist #cecil palmer #welcome to night vale #cecilos #headcannons #tickling #this is my number one headcannon for the show and you can pry it out of my cold dead arms

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pomplalamoose · 6 months

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Could we please get some sith luke x reader hc’s?🤞

Me as soon as I saw your ask:

There is in fact nothing that'd make me happier, nonnie!

Sith Luke headcanons were one of the first things I ever wrote for Luke before even creating this blog so I'M SO EXCITED🩵🩵

(check them out here)

• deciding to date Sith Luke is not a choice you should make lightly

• (if he gives you the chance to anyways)

• depending on where you meet and how you catch his eye, he will either lure you in with his charm, seducing you with all he has

• or, alternatively, just straight up kidnap you

• once he has acquired you however, there's no chance he'll ever let you out of his clutches again

• he possibly allows you the illusion of free will but know that he's the one holding all the threads

• just like his father he is a very good manipulator

• because he doesn't want you to even think about leaving, he likes to twist your mind to get what he wants, to keep you with him

• you may not have the chance to leave anyways but that doesn't mean he wants you to find out about that in the first place

• you're supposed to love him with every fiber of your being!

• he's all you have, the center of your universe!

• stay with him and never again will you need or want for anything

• he will make sure you have it all

• you won't realize the door to your golden cage closing in your face until it's too late

• in the same way he's as fiercely protective as he is possessive

• you aren't allowed to go anywhere without him by your side

• and due to his threatening person being always somewhere near it's practically impossible to engage in a normal conversation with someone outside of his immediate family

• he tends to be wary even of them

• he doesn't want you to engage too much with others, afraid another man or woman will catch your fancy, no matter if it's in a platonic or romantic way

• he is the only one you will ever need

• everyone making an effort to come close to you will end up on his radar

• and then they will randomly disappear?

• no, he really can't tell you why all of your new friends keep vanishing like that

• maybe you should've just listened to him and stayed away

• there's no one but him who has your best interest in mind after all

• the galaxy is full of unreliable and dangerous people, stay away from them

• while he enjoys showing you off on his arm, parading you around as his most priced possession and reveling in the way it sparks jealously wherever you appear, he can change his mind about it just as quickly

• yes, they may take a quick look, but ultimately you are his and his alone to enjoy

• he will make this very clear by always having his hands on you

• one might rest on your lower back or on the back of your neck

• maybe he's holding your hand very tightly in his, refusing to let go

• if you want to check out the buffet or step outside to look at the scenery you will simply have to ask (beg) him

• don't worry though, if he's in a decent enough mood it's not hard at all

• cling to his arm and flutter your lashes at him

• leave a shy kiss on his cheek

• whisper in his ear

• he won't be able to deny you anything

• not when you're so clearly putting on display to whom you belong

• and to make this even more obvious he'll always leave his marks on you

• if they fade, he'll make sure to re apply them

• he expects you to wear them in the open like jewelry

• don't you dare covering them up with either make up or clothing

• Sith Luke is dominant in every single aspect and always, without fail, has to have the last say

• the more easily you succumb to his will the better

• he may not straight up order you to do things a certain way, but you'll learn fast enough what pleases and displeases him

• this is not only in regards to how you wear your hair and how you dress but how you behave as well

• he decides what you do to your hair in the morning, as it's his habit to play with it

• when he has the time he personally picks your outfit

• if he doesn't you'll have to ask him whether he likes what you choose, sometimes having to change several times until he's finally satisfied

• he decides what and how you eat and especially enjoys handfeeding you when he's not too busy

• if you lick his hand extra clean after you are allowed to pick a favorite dessert of yours

• he expects you to wait for him when he returns to your shared quarters after a hard day, no matter how late it is

• receive him with open arms

• tell him how much you missed him

• cover him in kisses and your affection

• don't leave his side, follow him wherever he goes

• offer to take off his shoes for him

• offer to help him change into something more comfortable

• ask him about his day and listen closely

• stroke his face and be sympathetic as he a answers

• offer to run him a relaxing bath and to wash his hair

• offer to massage his sore muscles after

• beg for him to hold you close

✨ slight nsfw content under the cut✨

• as interested as he is in what you're wearing, he likes it most when you're not wearing anything at all

• not only does he enjoy the lovely view but most of all the easy access, that he can have what he craves most at any time

• drape yourself over his bed clothed in his long black cape like a present for him to unwrap and he's more than eager to fulfill every wish you might have

• but be careful, you might not be always alone with him as he often tends to have visitors over

• don't you dare let yourself be seen in any state of dress until he specifically asks you to join them

• he likes watching you take a shower and does so regularly

• for once he won't tell you what to do, instead leaning back and drinking in your wet and soapy body

• he'll sometimes ask you to turn a certain way so he can get a better view though

• maybe a shampoo bottle will slip from your grasp, you'll have to bend down to retrieve it

• oh, it happened again? You really are a little clumsy today

#ask #luke skywalker #sith luke skywalker #sith luke #dark luke skywalker #dark luke #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker smut #luke star wars #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #star wars headcanons #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 months

Text

From Hell to Home To Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chrissy frowned as she walked to class. She didn't mean to make Dustin feel so bad, but he shouldn't have left home like that. What if something had happened to him? She had told him she didn't want to lose another brother, but maybe that was too far. He just wanted to go look for his friend. Was she turning into her birth mother?

"No," Steve said.

When did she get to Nancy's locker? She blinked at Steve.

"What?"

"No, you are not turning into your mother," Steve said. "I know that look. What happened?"

"I got into a fight with my brother last night for sneaking out," Chrissy said.

"Oh, I thought you and your mom knew he was at my house," Nancy said. "I have no idea what they were doing in the basement."

"Planning to look for Will probably," Chrissy said. "I told him I didn't want to lose another brother and he looked so guilty."

"He knows you love him, and that's something your mother would never say. Think Wilbur," Steve said and touched Chrissy's nose.

"You know about Wilbur?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah, of course," Steve said. "I think it's cute."

"Me too," Nancy said, looking at him fondly.

Chrissy smiled at the pair of them. They were so cute. Meanwhile, Barb was rolling her eyes. Chrissy nudged her, and she grinned. She leaned next to Barb and raised her eyebrow questioningly. Barb shook her head. She wasn't ready to talk. Chrissy bumped her shoulder playfully, and Barb smiled. She let her eyes drift for a moment as Steve and Nancy did their little dance. Chrissy's eyes landed on a locker all the way across the hall. Leaning against the locker was a long-legged girl in a corduroy baseball cap, talking to none other than Eddie Munson. Eddie. Chrissy bit her lip. She hadn't talked to him since the Talent Show. It wasn't that she didn't want to. It was just that life kind of got in the way, and she spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to figure out her new life under a new roof with a new name and family. Before she knew it, time got away from her.

Now, here she was, and suddenly, the memory of that night came flooding back. He was still as cute as she remembered, cuter even. His hair was longer and very curly. He wore a vest now with pins and patches that look put on by himself. His shirt was a faded Led Zeppelin shirt. The same white one that she had. Chrissy was kind of surprised that it wasn't a heavy metal band like Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, or Judas Priest. She vaguely recalled him playing some Black Sabbath at the Talent Show. It was the only time she listened to heavy metal. She supposed he could also like rock music too. Chrissy herself didn't have a particular taste in music, mostly listening to what sounded good to her ears at the time. It generally depended on her mood. She smiled at the shirt, wondering what else they had in common and what else they didn't. A familiar feeling tugged at her stomach. Uh oh.

Chrissy sighed. She recognized that feeling. It was the same feeling she got when she first started crushing on Heather. They hadn't dated long but long enough to know that Chrissy definitely also liked women. Luckily, they ended on good terms. She should really stop watching him before he noticed, but she was mesmerized by the gesturing of his hands and the grin on his face. Oh my God, he has dimples. Suddenly, she felt someone push her.

"Why are you staring at Eddie Munson?" Barb asked and then said with a teasing grin, "It's rude to stare, you know."

"I wasn't!" Chrissy exclaimed, blushing.

"Oh my god! Are you crushing on him?" Barb asked.

Just then, the bell rang, and Chrissy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, look, saved by the bell," Chrissy grinned gratefully.

"Oh, by the way, we've been invited to a party at Steve's house," Barb said.

"But it's a Tuesday," Chrissy said in confusion as they walked to class.

"That's what Nancy said. Apparently, it's going to be low-key," Barb muttered. "Whatever that means."

"It means just us, Steve, Tommy, and Carol," Chrissy said. "His parties are always low-key."

"So, he doesn't throw ragers?" She asked.

"He goes to ragers. He doesn't throw them," Chrissy replied.

"Seriously?" Barb asked and rolled her eyes.

"It's going to be fun even if Tommy and Carol are going to be there," Chrissy said.

"It'd be better without Steve too," Barb muttered.

"Barb!"

"Oh, God, look," Carol said.

Jonathan was putting up missing posters of Will.

"Oh God, that's depressing," Steve said.

"Poor Jonathan," Chrissy agreed with Steve.

"Should we say something?" Nancy asked.

"I don't think he speaks," Carol said, and Chrissy glared at her.

"How much do you want to bet he killed him?" Tommy laughed.

"Shut up," Steve and Chrissy said as Nancy walked away.

"Steve, why the fuck are you still friends with these assholes?" Chrissy asked.

"Because he'd have no one else," Carol laughed.

Chrissy could tell by the look on Steve’s face that this wasn't the first time that they said something like this. Steve tried to laugh it off, but even Barb could tell it bothered him.

"He's got Chrissy," Barb scowled.

"Oooh," Tommy said and laughed with Carol.

Somehow, Chrissy managed to get through the day even though Will entered her thoughts every so often, and even Eddie filtered in there. She made sure the kids made it to Mike's before biking over to Benny's to make up for missing yesterday. However, when she got there, police cars were out in front. She dropped her bike. Chrissy was quick and managed to dodge the cops' arms as they made to grab her. She burst into the diner and gasped at the sight of Benny lying dead at a table with a gun in his hand as though he had killed himself.

"Benny!"

Suddenly, Hopper was standing in front of her, blocking her view.

"Kid, you shouldn't be seeing this," Hopper said gently.

"He didn't kill himself!" Chrissy sobbed. "He couldn't have. He was supposed to go out with my mom this weekend. He wouldn't do that!"

"He finally asked out Claudia?" Hopper asked.

"Yes! Oh God, mom. What am I supposed to tell her?" Chrissy cried. "He's not - He's not dead."

Hopper pulled Chrissy against him and let her cry in his arms.

"Hey, you guys handle this for a moment. I'm going to take her home," Hopper said.

Her mom had been just as much of a mess as Chrissy had been when Hopper told her the news. He stayed for as long as he could, but eventually, he had to go back to the diner. Mother and daughter both cried until they fell asleep curled up on the couch. They didn't wake up until there came a knocking on the door. That's when Chrissy remembered the party. Fuck.

"Oh, I just remembered. I forgot to call and tell Barb. She's supposed to pick me up for the assembly," Chrissy said.

"Oh, go, Honey," Claudia said.

"Are you sure, mom?" Chrissy asked.

"You need to be with friends. Besides, I need to call Sue," Claudia said. "And I have Mews with me. I'll be okay."

Chrissy looked at her doubtfully for a moment before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Her blue sweater clung to her nicely, going great with her blue jeans. She shook her hair out of its ponytail and shrugged on her white denim vest as she walked out the door.

"Are you okay?" Barb asked as she slid into the car.

"Yeah," Chrissy said and looked at how excited Nancy looked. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Barb asked.

"Yeah, just a shitty day at work," Chrissy said.

"Rude customers?" Nancy asked.

"Something like that," Chrissy replied. "Robin didn't want to come?"

"Of course, Robin didn't want to come," Nancy said. "She's too good for parties."

Chrissy couldn't help but snort at that. As much as Robin and Nancy fight, like sisters sometimes do, she also knows that they really love each other. She was surprised that Robin didn't come along to make sure Nancy stayed out of trouble with claims of invading Nancy's privacy. It was amusing to watch Nancy force Barb to pull over three blocks away from Steve's house, too afraid of what the neighbors might think.

"This is so stupid," Barb said. "I'm just going to drop you off."

"Calm down, Barb," Nancy said. "Come on, you promised that you'd go. You're coming. We're going to have a great time, aren't we, Chrissy?"

"Absolutely," Chrissy said, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"He just wants to get into your pants," Barb said and Chrissy sighed.

"No, he doesn't," Nancy said.

"Nance seriously. He invited you to his house. His parents aren't home. Come on, you are not this stupid," Barb said.

"Barb! I've told you that Steve isn't like that. He really likes Nancy," Chrissy frowned.

"Tommy and H. and Carol are going to be there," Nancy said.

"Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade," Barb said. "It'll probably just be, like a big orgy."

"Okay, I don't even like Tommy and Carol but even I know that's a stupid untrue rumor," Chrissy said. "Seriously, Barb, I did not take you for a gossip. It sounds like someone's turning into their mother!"

"I am not! You take that back!" Barb exclaimed and Chrissy laughed.

"Look, Nancy's a big girl and she's smart too. She's going to do whatever she wants tonight and it's going to be her choice because Steve respects that," Chrissy said. "I love you, Barb, but you need to chill the fuck out. I need to have fun tonight and so does Nancy. You need to let your hair down, just a little bit but you don't have to do anything you don't want too either. We're all making our own choices tonight because tomorrow we could be dead."

"Thank you, Chrissy," Nancy said as she changed her sweater. "Although, the last part was a little morbid, Chris."

"Is that a new bra?" Barb asked.

"No," Nancy said, lying.

"Nance, you left the tag on!" Chrissy laughed and pulled it off.

"Oops."

When Steve opened the door, "Raise a Little Hell" by Trooper was playing in the background.

"Hello, ladies," Steve grinned.

"Hey, Steve," Chrissy said, actually ready to forget about the day she had. It's not like it could get any worse, could it?

Chrissy chugged the beer until it was completely gone and let out a loud burp. Carol and Barb looked at her in disgust while Tommy laughed with Steve.

"Oh, that's ladylike," Carol scoffed.

"I never said I was a lady," Chrissy said flipping her off. "You're further from being a lady than I am, Perkins."

Chrissy collapsed in the empty lawn chair with a grin. Not even Carol could get to her in this moment. She watched in amusement as Steve stabbed a hole in the beer with a knife and drank from it. He was clearly trying to impress Nancy. Chrissy couldn't help but giggle as Nancy pulled it off. Then Nancy tried to get Barb to do it. Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Nothing she doesn't want to do, remember, Nance?" Chrissy asked.

"Right, of course," Nancy said.

"But you do need to stop pouting," Chrissy giggled and kissed Barb's cheek.

Right, beer makes her cross some boundaries. She looked apologetically at Barb who just shrugged and laughed it off.

"Didn't know you were a lesbian, Cunningham," Tommy cackled. "But that makes sense."

"It's Henderson, asshole, and I'm not a lesbian but thank you for thinking that I am one," Chrissy laughed as she pictured holding his head under water.

"I can do it," Barb said suddenly. "Give me the knife and the beer."

"Are you sure, Barb?" Chrissy asked with a frown.

With a look of determined look, Barb attempted to cut a hole in the can but instead, ended up cutting her hand open. She quickly rushed off to the bathroom, letting Chrissy know that she could find it by herself. She frowned as Barb walked away but her attention was pulled away when Tommy tossed Carol in the pool before Steve did the same with Nancy.

"Fuck it," Chrissy said before stripping down to her bra and panties.

Tommy, Steve, and Carol all wolf whistled as Chrissy dove into the water. In that moment, Chrissy was free of what happened today, and nothing could get to her. Although, she ended up getting out of the pool early when Carol kept giving her "fuck me" eyes. Yeah, she hated Carol too much to do that. . .as attractive as she found her. She dried her underwear as much as she could in Steve's bathroom before getting dressed and going to search for Barb. She found Nancy standing on the stairs looking down at Barb.

"Where are you going?" Barb asked Nancy.

"Nowhere. Just upstairs to change. I fell into the pool," Nancy grinned. "Why don't you just go ahead and go home? I'll get a ride or something."

"Nance - ," Barb started to say.

"I'm fine," she replied.

"This isn't you," Barb said.

"I'm fine. Just go ahead and go home. Take Chrissy," Nancy said.

Barb stormed out of the house. Chrissy grabbed Nancy's arm.

"You're going to be safe, right?" She asked. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm not - ," Nancy started to say, and Chrissy gave her a look. "I'm on birth control. You're not going to stop me?"

"Why would I? Is this something you really want to do?" Chrissy asked. "Do you like Steve?"

"Yes," Nancy said.

"Well, I already know what you're like when you make up your mind," Chrissy said. "I expect all the juicy details. Have fun. Oh, by the way. . .Steve is a heavy sleeper, so if he falls asleep after, you're going to have to slap the shit out of him to wake him up. If that doesn't work, yank very hard on his hair."

"Noted," Nancy giggled.

Chrissy wandered outside to find Barb sitting out by the pool. She was sitting on the diving board. Her feet and wrapped up hand were dangling over the water. Chrissy's heart went out to her because she looked so sad and she didn't know why. She walked over and stood by the diving board.

"Do you want to leave?" Chrissy asked.

"I want to wait," Barb said softly.

"You know what she's doing up there," Chrissy said softly.

"Making the biggest mistake of her life," Barb said. "Nancy wouldn't do this. They haven't known each other long, and suddenly, she wants to jump into bed with him like she's got something to prove."

"That's your version of her, Barb," Chrissy said. "Did you ever think that maybe she really likes Steve?"

"It's always been us against the world even when you became our friend, nothing changed, but then she started to look at Steve and I just - ," Barb cut herself off.

"What?" Chrissy asked.

"Why can't she look at me like that?" Barb asked.

"Oh, Barb," Chrissy said softly.

"She never showed an interest in boys, not really, and I thought maybe she was like me too," Barb said.

"Well, you know, just because she likes boy doesn't mean that it can't change, and it doesn't mean that you're not alone," Chrissy paused. "I never had a boyfriend before, but I do like boys. However, that doesn't mean I never had a relationship."

"You had a girlfriend?" Barb asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, can't tell you who it was because it would mean outing her, and that would be a no-no," Chrissy said.

"Do you think Nancy might be like you?" Barb asked.

"I don't know, but it's not up to us to talk to her. Right now, everything she's experiencing needs to be her decision. She needs to explore her sexuality herself, and she doesn't need us telling her who we think she is," Chrissy said.

"What am I supposed to do?" Barb asked. "It's not like I want to hate Steve or feel like this - "

"You're just jealous. We need to support her, and in the meantime, we can hang out, so you rant and rage all you want to me until you find yourself getting a little better each day," Chrissy said.

"How do you know how to deal with this?" Barb asked.

"A lot of therapy after I got adopted and then when I was hanging out with. . .my ex, I started to realize that I like women, and I kind of freaked out. My ex had this this older cousin who walked in on us, and we both freaked out, but she sat down to talk to both of us. She really helped, and if you ever want to talk to her, I still have her number," Chrissy said. "She's a huge ally."

Barb stared thoughtfully into the water for a while, and Chrissy was pleased that she looked a little less sad.

"Thanks for being my friend, Chrissy," Barb said.

"Always," Chrissy said.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her, and she looked up. Chrissy opened her mouth to scream, and then she was pushed into the water with Barb, being dragged down with her as the bottom of the pool opened up. It was strange, she thought. Before she fell into the water, did she hear Argyle scream her name?

Chapter Three

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