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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months

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Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings. Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fiancé for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

3K notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 4 months

Text

Cinnabon

Summary: (mall rats 7, final part!) Joel ruins a special moment, leading to another stupid argument, leading to him fucking the daylights out of you on his couch. Lovingly.

Tags: AU where yeast is not dead and we can all bake and be happy. Cordyceps is no longer in the flour/sugar either (work with me) Cinnabons, 69, dirty talk, unprotected Piv, creampie because it’s me, strang3lov3. soft dom joel because again, it’s me, strang3lov3. Strange highs and strange lows, that’s how my love goes. You get it.

A/N: As always, thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️ you’ve helped me so much on this series and you have no clue how thankful I am for that. Definitely abusing your talents for the next shit I wanna write! And thank you to everyone who’s read and reblogged, commented, all of that good stuff. This was a blast to write!!!

This may not be the absolute end of these two, so you might get an update on them here and there, most likely in the form of yet another lovers quarrel. But I have so much stuff planned and I hope you continue to keep up with me ❤️ excited for the new year and to share what else i've been writing with all of you 🩷

It’s early in the morning in late December when you’re walking up to Joel’s porch, holding a basket full of ingredients and a dusty copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. You knock on the door, no answer. With Joel’s poor hearing, sometimes it’s better to knock on his back door. He seems to hear it better, closer to his bedroom and all that. You make your way to his back door, where you find Ellie quietly opening the window next to the door, no doubt sneaking back from a friend’s house. You startle each other, “Ellie, hi,” you say. You wrinkle your nose, she smells like weed. You can’t help but smirk.

“Oh,” she says, “Hi. I’m not– I’m just–”

“I won’t tell Joel,” you smile. Ellie’s staring at your basket of goodies, where one of your lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs sits on top of a blue Cinnabon apron. “I’m just…baking. For Joel. Are you gonna be home today?”

It’s Ellie’s turn to smirk at you, as she opens the window the rest of the way and lifts herself inside the house. You hear her heavy footsteps before she unlocks and opens the door for you. “I can disappear,” she replies, “I require payment, though.”

“I’ll leave you a plate outside your door.”

“Deal.”

Ellie goes to her room probably to change clothes, and you go toward Joel’s kitchen. “I want two of whatever you’re making,” Ellie calls out before slamming the back door again, probably going back to her friend’s house. That girl certainly knows how to negotiate. You can’t help but love her for it.

Joel usually wakes up early, but he’s not on his recliner where you expect him to be. Must be in bed. You smile to yourself, picturing Joel coming downstairs in his pajamas, hair messy and sighing in pleasure at the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon.

You’re making Cinnabons this morning. Well, cinnamon rolls, as Betty Crocker puts it. When you and Joel were in the Barnes and Noble at the mall picking up books for Jackson’s library, you had stumbled across Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. Flipping through the pages, you found a recipe for cinnamon rolls and thought back to that first time in the mall with Joel, where he explained what a Cinnabon was, and then lied about his sweet tooth.

There were loads of recipes, many interesting pictures too. You brought the book to Joel and pointed at a picture of some odd, translucent dome-shaped food item. He told you it was called Jell-O, and that no one misses it. You wanted to take the cookbook back with you, but there wasn’t room in the duffel bag. And you couldn’t bear to rip out a single page for one recipe. That would just be cruel.

At the end of the day, you went back to Tommy’s office with Joel. Joel usually walks you home, but he didn’t that day. Said he was running late for game night with Ellie, so he took off quickly. Tommy told you he’d walk you home, though.

As you and Tommy went through some of the books, he heard you sigh disappointedly, “What’s gotcha down, hon?”

“There was this book I wanted, but we didn’t have room.”

“What book?”

“Cookbook,” you replied, “I wanted to make a recipe for Joel.”

“Ah,” Tommy murmured, flipping through the pages of an old picture book, “Which recipe?”

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“Oh man,” Tommy groaned. He checked his watch, then looked at you with a light in his eyes.

“I’ll take you back there right now to get that book.”

“You’d do that?”, you asked.

“For you, of course. But I got my motives. Ya gotta hook me up with some of those rolls.”

There are few things that make you feel as loved and appreciated as when Tommy’s eating your food, showering you in the sweetest compliments and praises. No problem, you’d gladly share your baking with him. So Tommy took you back to the mall. You led him to the bookstore, picked up your book and went on your merry way. Tommy still hadn’t gotten to check the mall out for himself, though. So he wandered through the same areas you did, through the food court you and Joel picked through all that time ago. At the Cinnabon stand, he tossed you a blue apron with the word ‘Cinnabon’ embroidered at the chest. “Bet ya could make Joel turn bright red with this.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. And, thinking about it, you had a lacy thong that would match the apron perfectly. You remembered the blush on Joel’s cheeks as you tried on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, how he mumbled something about lingerie being a waste of time before fucking you in the dressing room, still wearing your pretty pink chiffon babydoll. You wondered if faced with a big, gooey cinnamon roll sitting in front of him, and you in nothing but an apron and a thong, he’d still lie about that sweet tooth of his and his disdain for lingerie. Cause for an experiment.

–

In Joel’s kitchen, you prepare the recipe. You prepped the dough last night, giving it plenty of time to rise. All you have to do this morning is prepare the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the icing. Oh, and put on that apron and thong. Not too hard.

Once the rolls are assembled in the pan, you put them in Joel’s oven and change into your little outfit, feeling a little breeze on your bare ass. Good thing Ellie’s gone. As you’re waiting for the rolls to bake, you lean over Joel’s kitchen table and flip through the pages of your cookbook. The Jell-O still has you perplexed.

Some time goes by. You’re reading about the Jell-O, how Betty Crocker said that it was great for parties and baby showers and other things like that. The slam of the glass door behind you startles you. You whip around, and there’s Joel with bright red cheeks, looking shocked and horrified. Through the glass door, you see Tommy in Joel’s yard. He waves at you, smiling. You wave back.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel grumbles, quickly pulling the blinds over the glass door to protect your modesty, “You gonna explain why you’re bare assed in my kitchen?”

“I thought you were sleeping,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he grumbles, as the egg timer you set prior goes off with a ding. You open the oven and pull out the cinnamon rolls with a pair of potholders, giving Joel a perfect view of your entire ass. “Oh my god,” he groans. When you turn around, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, always so dramatic. You reach for the Pyrex measuring bowl full of icing you prepared and begin drizzling it over the warm cinnamon rolls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re somethin’ else, you know that? I never know what–”, Joel stops speaking, and you look back at him once more. He’s intrigued, eyes wide. The pastry has pulled his attention away from your nearly-bare body. “Those uh– those cinnamon rolls?”

“Cinnabons,” you correct him, pointing to the embroidered logo on your chest, “But yeah– cinnamon rolls.”

“Right,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. He reaches into one of his drawers for a fork and pushes you out of the way.

“Joel,” you complain as he steals a bite of the cinnamon rolls, right out of the pan. He blows on it first, careful not to burn his tongue. When he tastes the pastry, his eyes flutter shut. He moans softly. “You said once that you missed Cinnabons,” you explain, speaking softly. Joel reaches for another bite, right out of the pan.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, mouth full of dessert.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Cinnabon’s better,” he answers plainly.

Your face drops. “What?”

“Yeah this–”, he takes another bite, “S’no good at all.”

He’s fucking with you. Probably gonna say something dumb like how you should give him the pan, let him dispose of those no good cinnamon rolls for you. “Dick,” you punch his arm for scaring you like that. He doesn’t mind.

“You made these for me?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “For you.”

“For me,” he repeats, a soft smile on his face. You’re kind of baffled at his mood change, but you know what they say about men and food; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, all that stuff. He steps closer to you, backing you against the countertop and turning off his oven, still wearing that smile, like he knows something you don’t.

“But I owe Tommy and Ellie one, too,” you continue, voice a little shaky. You’re nervous, why is he making you nervous? Joel sets his fork down and stares at you, lovingly, tenderly. “I made two batches before this, fucked both of those up. And then I ran out of sugar, actually. Tommy had to steal me some more.”

“I love you.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He says it plainly, no frills. Just out with it.

“You do?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I do. Still would like an answer as to why you’re half-naked, though.”

Your face heats up. What were you saying? The cinnamon rolls, right.

“I was– I don’t know. I had to knead the rolls by hand. The recipe said a stand mixer would be easier, but I didn’t…”, you trail off, feeling a little fuzzy, like you can’t think straight, your train of thought slipping away from you, “Didn’t have one. I love you too, actually.”

“I know,” he replies softly. He never doubted it for a second. Lord, he’s so handsome. His eyes sparkle more than usual, his fluffy curls untamed. The flannel he’s wearing suits him perfectly, and you can’t help but stare, stammering quietly. He reaches for your face with one hand, wrapping the other around your waist and pulling you close to his body, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Oh, fuck. You squirm out from his hold, away from the counter he held you against. Joel looks absolutely baffled as you smile sheepishly. “Can you grab me a plate for the Cinnabons?”, you ask, “I need to leave one by Ellie’s door.”

“I’d like to kiss you first, if you don’t mind,” he says, walking towards you. You keep walking backwards, around the kitchen table. Joel follows you as you look through his drawers for a spatula, opening and closing cabinets with shaky hands as you try to find a plate. Where are his fucking plates? Joel reaches for your hand to stop you. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Joel’s missing something here. Has to be. You love Joel. Joel loves you. That’s been established, just like, two minutes ago. And you’ve been intimate with him many times before. The next logical step in this series of very out of order steps would be to kiss you. Unless…“Are you nervous?”, he asks.

“About what?”, you ask, “Kissing?”

“No, underwater basket weaving. Yes, kissing,” he sighs, “You seem nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, “I’d just like to be the one to do it first.”

“Oh,” Joel replies, still a little confused, “Yeah, naturally. Makes sense.” He takes you by the hand and leads you to his living room, sits you on the couch and takes his place next to you. “Lay it on me, then.”

“I can’t just–”

“You can,” he interrupts, coaxing you gently, “Come closer.” You scoot closer, but it’s not enough for Joel. Still wearing nothing but a thong and an apron, he lifts you by your ass and places you on his lap. Joel wears an expectant look on his face as you adjust yourself on his lap, feeling so awkward and out of your element. You’ve kissed people before, this should be no big deal. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous with Joel, especially when you’ve done everything else with him.

“Joel, I– I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Right here,” he whispers, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Or here,” he moves your hands to his jaw, his patchy beard prickly under your fingertips. “Wherever you want.”

“I like your shoulders,” you whisper, dropping your hands back to his shoulders. One of your hands slides to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls.

“S’good,” he says. And oh, his eyes. Brown and so warm, inviting, so beautiful.

“Close your eyes,” you demand, intimidated by his stare. “Sorry. Close your eyes,” you repeat, softer.

“My bad,” Joel replies, his eyes now shut. You’ve never noticed how pretty his lashes are before now. They’re gorgeous, so long. “They’re closed now.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“You got it,” he encourages.

God, this is daunting. You close your eyes, lean forward…and smooch him right on the cheek. There. Easy.

“Doesn’t count,” Joel murmurs through a smile, eyes still closed. Fuck. You adjust yourself on his lap, lean forward and…nothing. Joel waits. And waits. And waits.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you say, trying to will yourself to just do it.

“Okay, sweetheart. You got it,” he whispers. But you don’t kiss him yet, and Joel keeps waiting, feeling himself beginning to grow hard as you keep squirming on his lap, adjusting yourself some more. “Hon?”

“Yeah?”

“Any minute, now.”

“I know,” you say, “I’m gonna kiss you.” But you adjust again. A minute passes with you on Joel’s lap as he waits patiently for you to finally kiss him. Another minute. And then you lean forward and – nothing.

“I’m gonna count down from three, and then you’ll kiss me. How about that?”

Yeah, sounds like a plan.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Three…two…”, Joel counts, and you prepare once more to kiss him, “One,” Nothing. Joel sighs, “You’re killin’ me here.”

“I was about to do it, Joel.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was,” you argue, “You just keep talking and–”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. You’re the one doin’ most of the talkin’, like usual.”

“That’s not true,” you argue, but are interrupted when he opens his eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. He wears a mischievous grin as he sits up and his hands begin to slide up your sides. Your already pounding heart begins to beat even harder, faster, because Jesus Christ, he seems like he’s about to kiss you. “What are you doing?”

“Ya got three more seconds to kiss me. Three…”

“Joel, not funny,” you scold as he takes your face in his hands.

“Two…”

You’re beginning to panic, “Joel–”

And then he fucking kisses you, the bastard! No tongue, just a sweet, gentle peck. It’s despicable. You shove him back on the couch and glare at him, “You kissed me!”

“How awful,” Joel says with mock sympathy before he leans forward and kisses you again. You shove him again, harder.

“You asshole. I was gonna do it.”

“No, you weren’t,” he replies plainly. He tries to kiss you again, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch cushion. Joel’s smirking, but you’re scowling.

“Yes, I was.”

“Okay,” Joel laughs, “We can redo it, then.”

You sigh, “No, Joel, we cannot redo it. You already ruined it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Shit. S’too bad,” Joel feigns a sympathetic pout as he wraps both hands around your wrists that pin his shoulders, removing them from his body. He pushes your hands behind your back, holding them tightly as he kisses you again. And again, this time a little longer. Your lips begin to slide against his, and…god, they’re soft. The bastard.

“You’re ruining–”

“For the love of god, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts,” Joel mumbles against your lips.

“I was supposed to–”

“No. You had your turn. We’re doin’ it my way now,” Joel says, “That means,” he kisses you, “M’gonna kiss you,” another kiss, “And fuck you,” another kiss, “As I please, because I love you,” he whispers. He kisses you before he maneuvers you to lay across the couch cushions, now pinning your wrists above your head under just one of his hands “And you can’t do a thing about it. Got it?”

“I–”

He doesn’t let you argue further. Always so stubborn, you. “Good girl. Yeah, you got it,” Joel kisses you again. It’s different this time. Deeper, hungrier, messier. So much tension, time spent dancing around feelings, and it’s all out there now. His tongue slides past your lips and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar. You’ve been depriving yourself of him for too long. “And after all this, I’m gonna eat some of them cinnabons you made. And I won’t share, either.”

With his free hand, Joel unzips his pants to free his cock. “You know what you do to me, trouble?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that squirmin’ ya did instead of kissin’ me,” Joel lifts the bottom of your apron up, exposing yourself to him, already dripping wet as he pulls off your soaked thong. You could have expected the ensemble wouldn’t have lasted long. And how are you already wet? One second you’re arguing about a stupid kiss and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath him and you’re dripping. You gasp as Joel gathers your slick with his fingers before stroking his cock, dipping his head back down to kiss you. He kisses your lips sloppily, then your cheek and down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin and soothing the marks with his tongue. It feels hot and passionate, and loving and dirty; all the best things at once.

“Oh, god,” you moan as he kisses further down your body, still stroking his cock. He pauses momentarily to pull the strap of the apron over your head, then lifting your ass to untie the apron in the back. He pulls the fabric away from you quickly, tossing it on the floor. He kisses your chest, dividing his attention equally between your breasts. Pinching, twisting one nipple, kissing and licking the other, then switching. He leaves them wet with his spit as he kisses down your body, stopping before he reaches your pussy. “Joel,” you whine, “Please– need your mouth on me.”

“Oh, convenient. Now you want my mouth,” he breathes, teasing you.

“Please, I need it, need you,” you beg.

“Wouldn’t ya know it, I need your mouth too.”

“So? Me first.”

“God, you’re a brat. Nice try,” Joel pulls away from your body, taking off his clothes quickly, “Said we’re doin’ things my way. Tryin’ somethin’ new today. Scoot,” he motions for you to move to the side. “On all fours, now. Come on, up,” you scoot to the side where Joel tells you to, slightly confused as you take the position. Joel takes his place next to you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to his face. “Sit,” he tells you.

“Joel,” you begin to protest. Surely he doesn’t want you to actually sit on his face, right?

“You trust me.” It’s not a question. He knows you trust him, he knows you know he’ll take care of you. Of course he will. His voice is firm, confident, “I need you to sit,” as he pulls your center to his mouth, wasting no time in pressing kisses into your folds, slick and sticky with your growing arousal. Your breasts are pressed against his soft stomach, hands gripping his meaty thighs. Freeing an arm from its place at your hip, Joel wraps his hand around his cock, rock hard with a swollen blushed tip. He uses his other hand to reach for your head, pushing your face towards his member. “Take me in your mouth,” he says. “See? We’re compromising. S’what people in love do.” What an asshole.

Wrapping a hand around his thick cock, you guide his tip to your mouth, pressing wet kisses against the smooth skin. He tastes like he always does, familiar and masculine, salty and sweaty, as you trace over his swollen veins with your tongue. Joel groans against your cunt as he parts your lips, your tongue still painting delicate swirls on his skin.

“Yeah, attagirl,” he praises in a raspy voice, “Best of both worlds, ain’t it?” Joel laps at your cunt, moaning softly at the way you taste, your arousal almost as sweet and delicious as your cinnamon rolls from earlier. He keeps you held firm against his face as he licks you, alternating between drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and fat stripes with his tongue flattened.

“Mmmm,” you moan, voice muffled by his cock. You’ve got him as deep as you can take him, your nose nudging his balls slightly as you cup them gently in your hand. Joel surprises you when he dips his tongue into your pussy, tasting every bit of your pussy. You stop what you’re doing, the only thing your mind can focus on is the feeling of his tongue working magic inside you.

He swats your hip, “Know it feels good, but it goes both ways, sweetheart.”

“Please, Joel,” you beg.

“You know the rules,” he says, “You stop, I stop. Keep goin’, you’re suckin’ my cock so good, sweetheart. So good. Always do, you know that?” You begin to bob your head on his cock once more, Joel rewarding you with wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your pussy. It takes everything you have to focus on his pleasure when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive spot and humming against you. It’s not long before that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach, your first orgasm washing over you.

You gasp for air, “Oh my god, Joel,” as he works you through your climax. Joel never lets up, not once. He keeps sucking, licking your clit, his facial hair tickling your skin and only adding to the overwhelming sensation. Once more, your peak begins to build. “I’m– fuck, I’m gonna come again.”

“S’the fuckin’ point, my love,” Joel mumbles quietly, and you can feel his smirk. Despite the rules, you’re not even sucking his cock anymore, your face instead resting on his body, haphazardly stroking his length as pleasure erupts from your core. You’re a moaning mess, pussy dripping and soaking Joel’s face.

Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath. Underneath you, he places one last kiss right on your clit before he gently slides himself out from your body. You’re hardly coherent as he meets you once more, this time his face inches above yours, caging you in his arms. His cock bounces between your legs and he leans down to kiss you again. His lips are wet and you can taste your arousal on his tongue. “Look at that, I stole another one,” he taunts.

“You’re a dick,” you breathe against his mouth, your body betraying you as you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” and in one swift motion, Joel lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you. He kisses you again, swallowing your gasp as he parts your insides, letting you feel every inch of him. God, he feels good. You’ll never tire of that stretch, that delicious feeling of being completely full of him.

“Oh, Joel,” you moan. He pulls out slowly, then slides back in at a harsher pace, grunting when he bottoms out inside of you. He takes both of your hands in his own, pinning them above your head as he rocks his hips. It’s tender yet dominant, just how everything is with Joel. Just how you like him.

“Love this pussy,” he purrs, “An’ I love you so much,” as he fucks you deeply, intensely. You whimper through his thrusts, each stroke fluid and firm and intentional. He knows your body like his own. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. You always do.”

You writhe underneath him, relishing in the pleasure he gives you. His name and sweet whisperings of love are all you can speak, each word coming out in soft, broken cries. The wet, sticky noises of your pussy fill the room, along with your moans and Joel’s grunting, groaning, and heaving breaths. You tilt your head to the side, arms still pinned beneath Joel’s hands. You kiss his wrists and bite his skin there gently.

“Come with me, baby,” he coos, adjusting the angle and finding that sweet spot inside you, that spot he knows and loves. He lets go of your arms, one of his big, masculine hands now on your waist, the other thumbing your clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”

It’s all it takes. His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his body, the heels of your feet bouncing against his ass, simultaneously pulling him into a tight embrace with your now free arms. Everything about this moment with Joel is perfect, the way he smells, his hot skin, how close and safe you feel with him. It sends Joel over the edge, too. With your name on his lips, your cunt gushing and pulsing around his cock, he spills inside you, painting ribbons of himself deep inside you as he helps you ride out your own climax as long as he can.

He pulls out of you with a soft groan. He cleans you quickly with his t-shirt, a warm smile on his lips. He kisses your forehead, then sits back against the couch, catching his breath. You sit up too, and Joel holds out his arm as an invitation for you to curl into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, you stare at him. All of his beautiful features, warm brown eyes, his smile lines, his aquiline nose. And then, you do it. You kiss him. Long and deep, passionate. Hours could be passing, you don’t know.

Joel breaks the kiss. He pulls away from you, no longer smiling warmly. Instead, he wears his teasing grin. “Finally,” he smirks. He holds up his hand for a high five. Fucker. You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off the couch and buttoning Joel’s flannel over yourself. You make your way to the kitchen, finding a plate and placing two cinnamon rolls on them. You reach for an old pencil that sits on the window sill, scribbling ‘Ellie’ on a piece of nearby scratch paper and leaving it next to the plate. A deal is a deal, after all.

“Don’t leave me hangin’, now,” Joel calls out to you from the living room. You turn around and he’s waving his hand, nagging you about his abandoned high five.

You flip him off. Asshole.

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #strang3lov3 recs #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #mall rats!joel #mall rats joel #mall rats

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bloodlust-1 · 4 months

Note

Would you be okay with writing something with a Tav who is a virgin that is kind of scared of sex but still desires Astarion?

Totally! I imagine Astarion to be completely shocked, but relieved. Why? Tav would never have to experience the sexual abuse he had. Some lovey-dovey Astarion, anyone?

Hope this is good enough anon! <3

˚ ° A purity like yours ° ˚ part 1

Astarion x fem Tav — fluff, Explicit 18+

Summary: Tav has a secret that’s been heavy on her heart. Her virginity was a topic she ran away from, but it’s time for Astarion to know the truth.

Notes: I LOVE making companions in love, it makes me whelm all up inside🥹 Not exactly smut, but talks of explicit topics. Part 2

Tav sat quietly, her eyes focused on the floor as Astarion licked the last of her blood from his lips. Tav was unusually silent and he wasn't sure what was bothering her so much of lately.

He paused and narrowed his eyes, "You're rather quiet this feeding, my sweet. Is something wrong?"

Tav lifted her head slightly and looked up at Astarion. "I'm just...thinking," she said softly.

To Astarion, Tav was always thinking of lately. Especially when he's done feeding from her. He was confused if maybe he had done anything wrong? Was she having any doubts about their relationship?

Astarion brushed Tav's hair away from her eyes and smiled. "About what?"

Tav looked away again, her brows furrowed in concentration. "Just...us, and our intimacy." She shook her head, pushing away the thoughts. "It doesn't matter. I'm alright."

Astarion cupped Tav's face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "It does matter. Tell me, what's wrong?"

Tav sighed. "I feel so...embarrassed." She mustered any courage to finally look at him, her eyes glistening. "I feel like there should be something more to this. W-When you feed from me, I mean."

Astarion tilted his head confused, "You're embarrassed because you want to do something more?"

Admittingly he was blank. But when Tav opened her mouth his eyes widened in - anticipation. Even his ears pointed up with shock.

Tav didn't know which stung more, the fresh punctures on her neck or her confession.

"I just want to make you feel good and I want to have sex with you but-"

Tav bit down on her lower lip, she could feel the heat running into her eyes as her vision became blurry. "I just don't know how...I've never had sex before."

Tav finally allowed the emotions that had been building up inside her to come pouring out. She felt a deep sense of relief, but at the same time, a wave of shame washed over her. She felt embarrassed for even having to ask Astarion for sex, feeling naive and inexperienced.

At the same time, Tav felt so inadequate when it came to physical intimacy; Astarion was the only one who had any sort of skill in that area. And it made her feel so small.

Astarion's expression softened as he realized what Tav had been hiding from him. "...No -...you?"

Tav wiped away the single tear, nodding.

Astarion felt his face burning as his heart raced and his palms grew sweaty. Tav was absolutely stunning and he had been wondering why she had grown so flustered and shy when her body trembled and begged for him. Now it all made sense.

"But..." Astarion cut himself short in the midst of his thoughts, overwhelmed by the magnitude of her offer.

He was taken aback by her beauty, her inexperience, and her willingness to give him something so special, something so treasured and valuable.

But Astarion felt undeserving - he couldn't help but feel guilty. He knew she deserved much better and that her virginity was too precious to give to someone like him.

He chuckled softly and scratched the side of his head, "I am the worst person for this." Meaningful sex? This was completely foreign to him. How could she even ask him that? Of course, he wanted her more than anything.

He leaned over and with the pad of his thumb, he wiped away Tav's damped cheek, "Now, now, little love." His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until she sat on his lap. "You should not feel ashamed of something like this. I mean, look at me."

Astarion's ears lowered in shame as he half smiled, "I can't remember half the people who used my body. I wish I knew a purity like yours." He rested his head on Tav's shoulder, "I'm just relieved you will never feel what I've felt."

Astarion felt protective towards Tav more than ever, he wanted to keep her safe. No harm would come to her as long as he was there to watch over.

Tav threaded her fingers between his white curls, sniffling away the embarrassment, "I want to feel you in every way possible, even if you think you're unworthy." Her lips connected with the skin of his forehead. "You were always special to me, Astarion."

He shifted his head up, catching the glisten in Tav's eyes. She chose him and still continues to each day. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" He scuffed sarcastically before pulling Tav into a kiss.

His hands gently caressed her spine down into her back dimples. Astarion felt Tav shudder under his hold. She started to breathe heavily into the kiss, "I want you to know how much I love you..." Her eyes locked with his.

"Darling, you don't need to prove yourself with your body." The tension around them went soft and he held tightly onto her body, laying them both down against Tav's bedding.

Astarion cuddled Tav closely against his chest in an embrace. "On a perfect night, when the sky is clear and the environment is forgiving, I will take you into me and make you feel things you've never felt before. Ecstasy, my love."

"What if I don't know what to do?" Tav nervously glanced up at Astarion, who was quietly gazing out into the distance while gently stroking her hair. He was trying to be patient and not pressure her into making any decisions.

He wanted to take her under a bed of stars, and tonight he just wanted to hold her in his arms. Shield her from anything like he wished someone did for him. He would be that somebody he needed so long ago.

"I'll teach you, of course." He reassured her softly, still stroking her hair.

"You're not the only one who would be learning something." He peeked down at Tav, a smile tugging on his lips smugly.

"What, how?

Astarion's hands ran down Tav's side. His touch was gentle yet confident as he moved lower and lower. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her how beautiful and perfect she was. "I need to learn what gets you hot - "

Astarion smiled slyly as he felt her body react to his touch, knowing that he was driving her wild. His hands moved with a sensual grace as if they had done this many times before. "Where you shiver - "

"Where it hurts - " his hand gripped Tav's ass firmly, making Tav blush and squirm. Astarion continued to fondle Tav's ass, enjoying the feel of it in his hands and the way that the heat from Tav's skin seemed to seep into his own.

He leaned over Tav's ear, whispering teasingly, "Where you would want me to cum. Inside your tight cunt, or outside your soft stomach…"

Tav's body grew hot and her heart raced as Astarion's hand explored her body. She gazed up to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. Astarion smiled and leaned in to kiss Tav, their lips lingering together as he continued to caress Tav's ass. Intertwining their tongues together in a harmonious dance. She felt herself melting into his embrace, her body trembling with pleasure.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away, and a satisfied smile tugged his lips. Tav blushed deeper, wondering what Astarion was thinking.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tav's cheek. "You're so beautiful," his voice low and husky. Tav felt the aching between her legs, but she smiled, feeling her heart swell with happiness instead.

Sex was a scary thing for Tav. However, Astarion made her feel safe and seen, so maybe it was all in her head. She looked forward to when Astarion would take her as his.

They lay there in each other's arms for a while, their bodies intertwined in a peaceful embrace. Love was more than just sex, and it proved a hell of a point to them both.

Part 2 here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 #bg3 fluff #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion acunin #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion #anon ask

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cloudywriting05 · 3 months

Text

dollhouse — coriolanus snow

“torture me to sleep, have your way with me.”

» part two of one of the girls, can be read after or alone.

word count: 2,965 words

warnings: borderline physical and verbal abuse [DDDE], blindfolding, p in v, hardcore smut, bdsm, rough sex, slapping, mdni

tags: @urfavnoirette < even helped with the plot ugh 🫶

“What? She fucked him?” The blonde boy asked.

“Trust me, I get it. It’s fucked up. I mean, Sejanus? And not me? We didn’t even believe him until we saw them talking, he definitely fell in that pussy, man.” Festus remarked as he stared at Coriolanus, the blonde boy gazing into the distance at nothing as he soaked in the information he was just told. "Before me too, it's fucking diabolical, dude."

It was true, you had sex with Sejanus. Coriolanus stood there, enraged. Were you, his girlfriend? No, you weren’t. Did he feel betrayed? Cheated? Yes, absolutely. The revelation had his chest tight, his temper soaring, his breath shaking. His girl touched a man, not just any man, the one he hated the most, Sejanus goddamn Plinth. The root of all his problems, self-doubts, and hatred. The boy with the perfect ending, a Capitol success story comes to life, a district boy who rose to the top with his family. Just the mention of his name had Coriolanus completely enraged. There’s nothing Coriolanus wanted more than to kill Sejanus, more than usual right now.

“Are you sure she did? I don’t care, just curious," he questioned, his attention now glued to Festus's lips, making sure he didn't mishear the information.

"Didn't you see them at assembly? They were totally giggling and touching each other, they're definitely fucking, man– plus, Sejanus said it himself, he's one lucky mother fucker, I'll tell you that."

Coriolanus tried calculating when and why you fucked Plinth, or what possessed you to. He knew of your friendship, but nothing else. He always despised when Sejanus would team up with you for projects, the idea of you two alone would kill him every time because he knew something like this would happen; and it did. He was right. Was it because he fucked Livia last weekend? What could possibly be the reason? He couldn't find a reason, but he found a very serious problem. In the blonde boy’s head, he could sleep with half the school, and you still weren't allowed to touch another guy. You were his when you played with toys in the sandbox in pre-k, and you are still to this day. It’s never been said explicitly, because to him it never had to be, he just expected you to know.

“That’s fucking disappointing, isn’t it?” Coriolanus remarked, anger brewed within him.

“I guess…? By the way, are you going to Arachne’s birthday tonight? Everyone is going and I don’t know what the fuck to wear. Exams are fucking me up, man.” Festus whined, rubbing his temples.

“Wear whatever, it’s not like it matters. See you tonight.” Coriolanus replied, walking away to his last period.

Coriolanus knocked on the front door of the overly large mansion, loud electronic music evading through the walls, red and pink lights flashing through the window, eliminating the grass in the front yard. He stood there for a moment until one of his peers opened the door, Clemensia.

“Coriolanus…” she cooed, throwing herself towards the boy into his arms.

He held her as her drink spilled down his side, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Get yourself together, are you alright?”

“No, but you look good… I like your shirt,” she remarked, her finger tracing over the patterns as she leaned against him. She’s fucking insufferable, he thought to himself.

“Thanks, now get up, pretty.” He stated, lifting her onto her feet and turning her around.

With a firm grip on her shoulders, he guided Clemensia through the entrance of the house, closing the door behind him. The volume of chatter grew even louder, an interesting scene in the apparent living room where people were lounging around, kissing and hugging. Releasing his hold on Clemensia, she joined her peers in the room. The blonde boy proceeded down a lengthy hallway, exchanging brief smiles with classmates lining the walls, their conversations blending with the music. Reaching the end, he pushed through holographic streamers dangling from the ceiling and stepped into what resembled a second living room, where vibrant lights flashed, fruity alcohol lingered in the air, and the heat hit him stronger than expected.

He stood there, observing the people he’d been in class with a few hours earlier, now dancing relentlessly against each other under the pulsating music. The bright flashing lights washed over their bodies, while pairs, trios, and groups gathered around, indulging in drinks and cigarettes. Amidst the vibrant chaos, Festus caught his attention with an unfamiliar girl. Navigating through the crowd, Coriolanus reached the center, where he firmly grabbed Festus's shoulder, prompting a swift turn in response.

“Dude! You scared me! You’re here pretty late!” he yelled as he leaned in towards Coriolanus.

“Yeah! I know! Have you seen Sejanus?” Coriolanus yelled back, his body being pushed by people jumping and dancing around him.

“Dude! Yeah! He’s on the dance floor with your girl, man! Look!” Festus’s arm extended and pointed towards you, lost in the music as you danced with Sejanus.

Coriolanus watched your body pressed against his as you winded your hips, Sejanus’s hands resting on both sides of you, pushing up against your back. He let out a sigh as you whispered something into Sejanus’s ear and led yourself out of the crowd. Coriolanus took the opportunity to pursue you, pushing through everyone. He followed you closely behind, watching your hands struggle as you turned the doorknob and entered the dark bedroom. Keeping his footsteps light he entered behind you, closing the door. He stood silently as you threw yourself onto the bed, letting out a loud groan as your chest hit the mattress.

“Nice dancing back there, whore.” Coriolanus remarked, sending you into a panic.

“Fuck! What the hell are you doing in here, you fucking psycho? How long were you standing there?” you shrieked as you glared at the boy in the corner, your heart pounding inside your chest as it rapidly raised up and down.

Coriolanus let out a dry laugh and sighed, “I knew you could be dirty; I just never knew you could be so fucking cheap, and easy.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Snow?”

“You fucked Sejanus— now give me one reason why I shouldn’t strangle you and shoot him,” Coriolanus spoke calmly, stepping towards you as you sat on the bed.

“Holy shit, you’re insane, Snow. Does it matter who I fuck? You slept with Liv on the weekend and my entire friend group over the summer, so kiss my ass.” you exclaimed, keeping your stance.

“You’re too pretty to be acting like this, doll. So, get some fucking self-respect and never go near him again.” Coriolanus suggested, his finger running down your cheek.

You slapped his hand from your face as he stood in front of you, looking up at him. “But, why? You’re not my boyfriend, and contrary to your personal belief, you don’t fucking own me, Coriolanus.”

“You said I did when I fucked you so good that you came back for seconds and thirds.”

“I hate to break it to you but, your personality is not as likable as your dick, Coryo. Now get the fuck out.”

“No, not until you apologize for having sex with the biggest bitch of Panem.” he protested, causing you to erupt into laughter.

“Fuck, you really are crazy, Coriolanus... If you won’t get out, I will myself. Move.” you shot up from the bed, your chest grazing his as you pushed past him.

You stalked towards the door, Coriolanus grabbed your arm and pushed you, slamming your back into the wall. You cried out in pain. The boy stood an inch from you, his hands pinning yours against the wall. Your body was engulfed in complete fear, you were horrified.

“If you think for a second, I’m gonna let you go out and grind against that fucking bastard, you’re wrong. You’re staying here, I don’t care when the party ends,” he declared, his face centimeters from yours, your wild eyes staring at his.

“Coriolanus, let me the fuck go,” you spoke calmly.

“Why? Why are you acting like you don’t want this? I know you’re probably getting off to it because this is the type of shit your sick brain likes.” he sneered, adorning a vicious smirk.

You hated him. You hated him because you knew he was right. The heat between your legs, his breath against your neck, his grip on your hands. You wanted him so badly, and you hated that he knew it. “Why the fuck would I want you to touch me?”

He raised your hands above your head, keeping them first against the wall. He let his free hand travel down your side, his other hand clasping at your wrists, holding them in place. His hand wandered to your bare stomach, his fingers then wandering under your skirt. Drawing circles against your clothed pussy, the same pussy that was begging for his touch. “I can already fucking feel it, you’re wet. Such a whore, now tell me what you did with Sejanus.”

He spun you around, your chest slammed against the cold wall. His hands still clasping at your wrists which were now behind you, resting on the lower curve of your back. With the side of your cheek pressed against the wall, you breathed out. “I fucked Sejanus.”

“Say it again.”

“I fucked Sejanus Plinth and let him cum all over my face,” you admitted, your voice shaking.

“Good girl for being honest for once, hm.” he sighed.

He freed your hands, but they still found a way to stay put behind your back. The blonde boy raised his hand and landed it against your ass as hard as he possibly could, conjuring up all his strength to do it a second time. You shrieked in agony, as you bit your lip.

“You know, sluts like you should get worse, but I’m so fucking nice to you. So, fucking nice. You’re just so pretty it hurts to hurt you,” his hand traveled up to your chin, caressing it, then gripping it firmly, forcing your head to turn in his direction, “but your mouth, my love. Your fucking mouth gets you in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, doll. Give me the ribbon,” he tapped his finger against the ribbon around your left thigh, and you untied it, handing it to him shamelessly. “Get on your knees.”

You dropped to your knees, shuffling around to face Coriolanus. His pelvis hovered in front of your face; you peered up at him as he glared down at you. You could still make out his features by the bright lights flashing through the edge of the door frame. Your last look at the boy’s pretty face. He caressed your hair before tying the ribbon around your eyes firmly, and your breath hitched.

“Feel how hard I am, doll. Do what you do best, whore.” he remarked, grabbing your hand, and placing it against his achingly hard cock.

Your hands scrambled to unzip it as fast as you could without your vision. The rush consumed you as you successfully unzipped his pants, sliding your hand inside his boxers, earning a groan from the blonde boy. You pulled his pants down slightly, completely freeing his hard cock. Your hands flailed in front of you until you found it, gripping it firmly. You let the tip of his cock into your salivating mouth. You spat on it mercilessly, stroking it with both your hands. You placed his top against the flat of your tongue, running it against it in circles. Coriolanus choked back moans, refusing to feed your ego.

Your lips puckered around his tip, sucking on it, the pre cum now on your tongue. You began to take his dick into your throat, deeper with every head movement. You felt his cock slide in and out of your mouth, moving graciously against your tongue. Your hands moved to massage the base of his cock, alternating between his massaging his balls, and flowing the movement of your mouth. Coriolanus’s chest heaved as he moaned shamelessly, not caring about your ego anymore.

His hand moved to grab a chunk of your hair, forcing his cock deeper into your throat as you mercilessly sucked his dick. Your head moved vivaciously as his cock thrusted in and out of your mouth. Coriolanus pulled his cock out of your frantically, not wanting to cum inside your mouth. He rested his tip against your open mouth. You sat there, tongue out and eager. He slapped the tip of his cock against your tongue a few times before stepping away.

“Get up, pretty.” he purred, helping you off the floor and onto your feet. He began removing your clothes piece by piece, throwing them to the side without struggle, he’d done this before.

You stood completely bare, blindfolded, solely relying on the same boy who swore he was going to kill you. Coriolanus led you towards your bed as you followed him blindly, silently instructing you to position yourself in the center of the bed, which you did without saying. He pried your legs open, revealing your glistening pussy.

“Did Sejanus get you this wet?” he asked, you shook your head frantically in reply. “I know, darling, what a shame.”

He traced a finger towards your heat and then started running it through your folds, causing soft moans to escape from your lifts. His finger traveled up and down your wet folds, pressing against your clit with each movement. Coriolanus watched your body react as you arched your back towards him, he sat beside you, his hand between your legs, studying every bit of you. He moved two digits towards your entrance and pushed inside slightly, he watched your lips open to let out a staggered moan, your hair caught under the blindfold. His fingers went deeper within you a second time, causing you to gasp, and then the boy didn’t wait to pick up a rhythm.

His fingers slid in and out of you, your wet vagina aching, as its own lube, you began to moan out for the boy with your sight still completely covered. “Fuck, Snow.”

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, lowering his mouth to your nipple, lapping at it before you could answer.

His fingers still pumped in and out of you, “I do, you’re so good.”

He raised himself to look at your face again, he figured you weren’t in the state he wanted you to be in. His pace began to pick up, but instead, he used the flat of his palm to rub and press on your slit. The friction catches you off guard. His palm slid up and against both your folds and clit, sliding back to push his fingers further into you. His pace sped up, your back arched itself so your hips raised towards his hand. He watched your facial expression change as he mercilessly fucked your pussy with his hand. “Wait, Coriolanus!”

“No, I won’t. Now shut up and take it like you took Plinth’s dick, whore.” he snapped, breathing against your neck as his hand fucked you. He tapped on your side and without saying you flipped over, knowing what he meant without him having to say a word.

He snatched the thick ribbon from your chest and slid it around your neck, the two ends of the ribbon in his grip as it pressed against your neck. Pushing his cock into you, he smiled. “Does that feel good?"

You nodded through your moans as his cock slid in and out of you. He yanked on the ribbon suddenly, thrusting your head back towards him. You struggled as he restricted you from breathing while he fucked you. You didn’t know how you could be so helpless with him, how you let him do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted but he got you regardless. Coriolanus’s cock thrusted into you mercilessly, watching your ass bouncing against him. The door creaked open causing the boy to snap his head.

Plinth stood in horror, not being able to register the scene in front of him. Sejanus stood with his mouth open, Coriolanus briefly stopped thrusting and glared back at him. A smile crept up on the blonde boy’s face as he picked his pace up again you moaned beneath him completely oblivious, Coriolanus still glaring at Sejanus who began to close the door. You smiled to yourself as his cock filled you with every movement, completely satisfied, in complete bliss.

“Plinth could never fuck you like I do, okay?” he remarked through his moans, his cock still plowing into you.

“I know, I’m, I’m so sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. You’re just so good,” you cried out, his hand pulling on the ribbon this time forcing you to look back at him, “Do what you want to me, I’m gonna cum, please!”

He watched your body retract against his cock, shaking. You fell onto your chest, the boy continued to fuck you.

“You’re so pretty but so stupid,” he stated, his pace not slowing down, “don’t know how to keep your legs closed.”

His free hand landed against your ass. “Now, you’re gonna sit here and swallow Daddy’s cum, okay?”

“Yes, I will, please.” He pulled his cock out of you as you turned around to face him, not hesitating to place his cock on the flat of your tongue.

You stroked it slowly, watching his eyes roll, “Fuck, you’re so eager for me,”

“Always.” you breathed against his cock, his cum spilling against your tongue, cheeks, and forehead.

He fell onto his back, your eyebrows cocked upwards. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Mrs Capitol, tell me,” he replied as you lowered yourself next to him.

“I never fucked Sejanus.”

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #ballads of songbirds and snakes #smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x oc #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you

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ladyelissarose · 10 months

Note

I love your fics! Can i please have a Miguel O'hara x Fem Reader where she bumps into a abusive ex and she gets scared/uncomfortable. So Miguel being the protective and territorial person he is steps in and handles the situation (maybe even fights the guy), and Miguel gets all sappy and soft letting her know he loves her and will protect her always. Fluff plzUwU

‘Protector’

Miguel O’Hara x girlfriend reader

Warnings; 4k!! mentions of abusive ex, sad flashbacks that involve some violence. Like *Choking and screaming* Little bit of angst, panic attacks mentioned too. But I squeezed in more fluff than y’all can imagine! Please be careful with what you want to read. Enjoy

Summary; after not being in a relationship for over a few months, you start to try again with an adorable scientist, Miguel O’Hara. Overall he seems very sweet and kind at the start of your growing relationship, but you can’t help but worry he might be like you ex. Until one day he proves to be the total opposite.

Author’s note: Hiiii love!!! Thank you for this request!! I’m so happy I got one! So I hope this meets your expectations, let me know :) much love and hugs!!

Diing Diing!

The clanking bells alarmed you that a customer had just walked into the large 3-story library you work at in New York City. A smile went up your face as you waved and greeted a couple of college girls who passed by with smiles and their little coffees.

This library in particular was special to you, it had a great view of the magnificent city, many customers came by and 99% of the time found what they needed, it was a place of a new fresh start after leaving an abusive relationship, and better than all of those things aforementioned, it was the place where you found Miguel O’Hara, your new boyfriend.

Miguel was a scientist, he worked at Alchemax and came by often to the library to retrieve books he needed for his job. He was always a regular customer as your boss had mentioned, but he said he came by more often when you started working there everyday.

Which was true, you saw him very often, maybe 8 times in a span of 5 days, he walked in and out with a new scientific book or one about chemicals, and you’d be the one to check them out.

It wasn’t hard to miss him when he walked in, he had a broad form and looked very different from the rest- oh and he always wore that white coat that made his arms bulge out more than they should, and really shape his V back perfectly.

Every time his curly jet black hair was always combed back with his calloused fingers as he would approach the front desk and ask you how your day was, even if you had seen him earlier that morning.

Flashback-

“Hi! I-uh.. came to get these checked out... how’s your day been- like so far?”

You beamed a smile at his sorta shyness, which wasn’t normal for him. He wasn’t particularly hyper and such, but his speech was always confidently spoken. Nonetheless you took the 1000 paged book about Chemistry and scanned it while responding,

“It’s been a little busier, now that college started for the kiddos, they’ve been in and out of here like crazy. But overall good.”

His warm brown eyes hadn’t met yours as one of his hands were stuffed in his pockets and the other inched for the book in your hand, but he smiled and replied,

“Oh that’s nice, just don’t.. uh overwork yourself corazo- ma’am.”

You giggled while putting the book in its paper bag while suggesting,

“You can call me corazen- Is that how you say it?”

Miguel finally let his eyes look at you and you could see he held a slight uncertainty, but he did correct you kindly,

“It’s corazon.. i-it means ‘heart’.”

‘Awww... that’s so sweet... Damien would have never said that.’

Warmth filled your insides and you could’ve bet a million dollars that your cheeks were beet red, it wasn’t a doubt you found this mountain of a man absolutely adorable like a puppy, and extremely hot. You slid the book in a paper bag towards him carefully and added,

“Well thank you for correcting me-“

You then read his tag and went on,

“Dr.O’Hara... would you like anything else?”

For a second time his eyes locked on yours, and he took a deep breath before rapidly taking out his hand out from his pocket. You gasped lowly and flinched back at the action, your eyes wide. But Miguel caught your action and felt guilty for scaring you, and comforted you immediately with his words,

“Sorry! Umm.. ay coño.. just call me Miguel.. and.. would you like to go out at some time?”

You were now a couple feet away from the desk, but when you saw the little paper he had put out on top, you slowly came back.

A frown made a small line between his eyebrows, you too felt back for scaring away, but you couldn’t help but have that kind of reflex to certain gestures. You couldn’t meet his eyes after what you did, but his gentle voice gave you a slight confirmation that it was ok,

“Corazon?... it’s ok if you can’t-“

“I can! Yes.. yes... I’m sorry-“

“Please don’t be.. it was me that was weird then-“

“You’re not weird I swear... I was the one that acted dramatically-“

“You’re perfect.. I swear that you are.”

Honesty and adoration was read all over him, something you’ve never seen in another man but could detect. With a warm smile you made the move to agree with him, though you were hoping he was right.

“Ok...”

Miguel first smiled then wore a frown with a question,

“Ok.. as in the date or-“

You quickly quipped,

“Is it too much to ask for both?”

With a shake to his head Miguel tapped the table and took his bag,

“For you? Not at all corazon.. at 6 tomorrow.. because you clock out at 5 right?”

In surprise at how he knew when you got off of work had you smiling a bit brighter, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone remembered something so small about you.

“Yes! Ah.. thanks for noticing, and giving me time.”

With a wink and a last wave Miguel sweetly promised,

“You’re worth all my time.”

End of flashback-

You never thought that being 6 months into your new relationship would be leading after that first date with Miguel.

And you have never been happier than ever. He was the absolute most gentle person ever, he never lifted his voice and was calm in every situation. He was the total opposite of what you dragged yourself into with your last relationship... which was toxic and abusive.

Damien was the asshole’s name, and with him, degrading words were always shouted at you, new bruises would appear around your wrists or neck every time he got angry, your lipstick was never smeared from being kissed and loved... instead your mascara was always messed up and painted teary lines down your cheeks.

You’d flinch when a voice was raised higher than normal or you’d panic for a second at someone moving too fast towards you. As in the past Damien would scream at you endlessly and out of no where sprint towards you to lay his hands on you to hurt you. But now as you had run away from him and started a whole new life far away- as so you thought.

You worked hard to be more normal and confident, and read people and understand that some moved the same way but had different actions and intentions behind them.

Like when Miguel would reach suddenly to brush your hair behind your ear, you had to learn that he was caring for you, and not going to choke you. Or when he’d come from behind you to hug you, day by day you grew to accept how he was loving on you and not going to drag you away to hurt you.

So little things like that, you were trying to give a chance to think differently of, so you could heal. And to not say the least, but Miguel had seen the trauma you were in from when you first dated, he had seen and heard how you asked for reassurance on everything you did, and even apologized your heart out when you accidentally laughed a little louder at a funny moment, or when a drop of coffee landed on his shirt, face filled with dread and worry at what he’d say or do to you.

But ever sense that night, Miguel swore on his life that he’d never let you go, and that he’d protect you forever from whoever would want to cause you harm. And he also knew, that if he ever ran into your ex, it’d be the last time he ever did.

—————-

Diiiin Diiing!!

The library was already close to closing time, so when you heard the ding, you called out to let them know,

“Hi! Welcome to-“

In horror you dropped the books you were holding, letting them crash onto the floor and even allowing the hard cover book land on its corner onto your foot. The day you hoped would never come, finally came.

In all his wicked glory, stood your ex, Damien, at your counter. With an erratic heartbeat and shaky hands you moved down to the floor to pick up the books, feeling like the helpless little girl you were when he had you. Fear wasn’t enough to describe what had you losing your breath and movement, as venom came out of his mouth.

“Wow.. even after all this time your still a clumsy bitch huh? Pathetic.”

Words cut sharp like knives at your heart and you could feel how deep into your gut that tossed stone of words went. Instantly it was like if you went to robotic mode with him, like if he had control over you. His black eyes bore into your now glossy eyes as you fixed the books on the counter and replied with a stutter,

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it- it was an accident-“

“An accident like how you dropped your coffee on my shoes or how you step on my brand new shoes at your cousins wedding? You’re an accident. A mistake- like how’d you even get the job?”

Shrugging slowly was all you could muster, words hanging in your throat. But a harsh slam of his hand hitting against the counter had you jump and responding verbally,

“I-I’m not sure.. my boss thinks I’m efficient and qu-quick.”

And in that moment you had a very quick slip up in your mind, making you scold yourself and remember Miguel’s words, which were honest and uplifting,

‘Don’t be weak!! Remember what Miguel said- Never let anyone tell you you’re not good enough at what you do. You’re perfect and strong, stand up for it.’

You then took a deep breath and said forwardly,

“I’m good enough for this. So just- just please leave me alone.”

A dry laugh met your ears along with more degrading words,

“You’ll never get it huh? No matter what you do without me you’ll never be good enough. I gave you power-“

He gave you the power of fear, fearing all the time, the power of tears, that you cried every night after a scandal he put up. So you worded confidently,

“No you didn’t. You were toxic and abusive. The only power you gave me was to fear you.. but that’s over. Now go-“

You tired really tried your best to stand strong, but it didn’t work out well and it opened old wounds when he dared to raise his voice and slam his hand on the counter again,

Bam!!

“TOXIC?! Wow! Look at you calling the kettle black little girl. You see, you were the toxic one for always disobeying me and saying ‘no’. You were toxic for not letting me love you like I wanted to- I TRIED OK? I did! That you didn’t like rough and all was your little immature and weakling problem, but that’s what happens when you don’t play nice with your daddy.”

Internally you bled as he slashed you open with every word and movement, making you feel less and less like the person you had become.

Miguel’s words fading in your mind as Damien added a new one and went on like a broken record. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you let it out as a gasp when he slammed his hand again and demanded your attention,

“HEY! Aren’t you listening?! Do I have to hit the side of your head so it clicks? Don’t you remember how well that method worked?!”

Diiiing Diiiing!!

Miguel had just walked in with your favorite dinner meal from the coffee shop near by, carrying his on the other hand so he could join you for his little break too.

Just as you had dropped your stuff in fear, so did he.. but he felt a deep concern instead. He witnessed a man half his size tower over the counter and lean towards you with an accusing finger, shoulders visibly moving in aggression.

But what choked his air was your face- oh god how he hated the look of fear on you, it was as if death was standing before you. Miguel immediately walked up and called out to you first, not wanting to scare the man and cause more to happen, as he didn’t know what was up with him.

“Amor? What’s going on?”

The man whipped his head towards Miguel and only smirked at him and said to him while still staring deeply,

“Sir you’ll have to come back later-“

Huffing in disbelief at this guy’s audacity, Miguel turned his attention back to you and saw tears coming down your eyes, making him ask right away,

“Amor, what did he do to you?”

Blocking you with his body Damien bit,

“Why are you assuming I did something wrong?”

At seeing your teary eyes and wet cheeks, Miguel instantly grew defensive and very angry at the man that stood in front of you being an asshole. Miguel knew by his tone that he had probably done something to you, and that only made him more furious... until it clicked for him, who he was.

‘That’s the bitch.. Damien. Mierda.. your so going to wish you never walked in here.’

With an authoritative voice Miguel called out to you,

“Go to the back, and don’t come out.”

He wouldn’t want you to see the ugly side of him that came out when he defended those he’d kill for. He wouldn’t want you to accidentally translate his harshness towards enemies as that he could probably hurt you too with those same hands. No, he o my wanted you to see and know that his hands would only show love and care to you.

So you taking the chance that you knew Miguel wouldn’t dare let Damien come after you, you ran to the back immediately and didn’t look back. Knowing you’d probably pass out from seeing more of the monster that hurt you so much.

———

Miguel back up front then cracked his knuckles and threatened,

“And you, step away from the counter-“

“Why should I? I haven’t done anything to her-“

“And you won’t, ever again. Now I suggest you go and leave her alone-“

“And what are you going to do if I don’t huh? You think I’m scared-“

“Que idiota... You will be. The only fighting you know is how to hit women... try hitting me. I dare you.”

Thinking Miguel wouldn’t try anything, as he was a much larger man, Damien stupidly went at him. But being Spider-Man in disguise had its perks to self defense and fighting skills. So reaching close enough to him, Miguel then side stepped and watched Damien fall forward, hence letting him catch his back collar and slam him to the ground.

Breath knocked out of his lungs at the single action had Damien laying on the ground trying to catch air, but Miguel refused it to him when he hovered over him and held onto his neck tightly with one hand, constricting the airway.

“Thought you liked choking? And pain?”

Damien’s face turned red and Miguel’s heart pinched at the thought of his love and life being in this painful position, because of this low life monster under him. It only made him growl and add to the fire and squeeze harder, not caring about how Damien silently cried for release,

“Hm? Hijo de puta.. vete al carajo... and never come back. If not I’ll make sure you never do.”

And with that Miguel slammed his back one last time to the ground, ignoring the small crack he heard, and then got up, lastly spitting out in a loud voice,

“Now get the hell out! I don’t want to see you around her ever again!!”

Like a cowered dog Damien scurried away, running out the door and going far off, not caring about the weird looks people gave him for how crazy and scared he looked.

Miguel didn’t give him a second thought before darting towards the back room to get you. When he approached the door he knew it’d be locked, so he knocked gently and called out,

“Amor? It’s me.. Miguel. Can you open up?”

Sniffles and hard gasps were heard on the other side, causing him to freak out a bit and call to you again,

“Baby it’s ok. Amor I’m here and it’s safe-“

“I-Is he gone??”

Miguel could hear your short breaths between words and he could feel it in his gut that you were hitting panic mode. So as soft as possible he tried to tell you,

“Yes amor.. he’s gone. I promise, open the door por favor.. I want to see you.”

Silence filled the room a bit. It he then heard the smallest-

click!

As always Miguel never degraded you but instead praised you, even for the smallest things, like unlocking the door.

“Gracias amor, good job baby.”

Slowly he opened it and his heart ripped apart at the sight of your cowered form in the corner of the closet, breath hitching and your small hands trying to wipe away the large tears that rained down on your stained cheeks. With his arms opened to you Miguel did his best to word out everything and let you know what he’d do beforehand,

“Ok amor, I’m going to come to walk to you... can I touch you-“

Your hand inched for him as you whimpered,

“I can- I can’t breathe. hel-p me.”

Hearing you hiccuping for air had Miguel grabbing your face gently, pulling you towards him slowly as he tried to talk you through it to calm you down,

“You’re ok amor. Respira.”

His hand laid on your heart as he led yours to lay on his, he wanted you to work on matching your breathing with is. His other hand held the back of your neck gently and leaned your forehead on his as he went on praising and comforting,

“Just like that amor, breathe. You’re doing so well-“

“I feel so sc-scared.. like if it’s all in my throat-“

“I know amor-“

“I didn’t know what to-to do-“

“It’s not your fault-“

You tried to push away and bury yourself in dark thoughts of untruth,

“But it is! I let him... how could you lo-love someone like me that folds- Mmph!!”

Miguel wouldn’t have it, he loved you too much to let you drown in hurtful thoughts, so to silence your head and words, he had pulled you in for a deep kiss.

Instantly it had helped you stopped thinking crap about yourself and doubt everything with Miguel, and it helped you calm your breathing as you felt him move his lips against yours softly yet firmly. Your hands wrapped around his neck and brought him back closer to you, not wanting to let go. Miguel then pulled away, but only enough to mumble coherently,

“I love you *kiss* and you’re safe *kiss* I won’t hurt you *kissssss* I got you amor *kiss kiss* I’m not going anywhere without you *kiss*.”

The kisses in between confirmations had calmed you down right away, feeling his hands embrace you and run over your arms and waist gently had got you to stop fidgeting as well. With a one last kiss to your head, Miguel slowly stood up, helping you stand as his arms wrapped around you, he then suggested to you,

“Let’s go home amor, c’mere. Tomorrow’s your day off anyways and we can get up late to and rest.”

You were about to walk out in hand with him, but Miguel had different plans as he was feeling still protective over you and wanted you close. He crouched down a bit and worded,

“Jump and wrap your legs around me-“

“Mig-“

“It’s ok amor, don’t worry about anything.. I got you.”

No more doubt rested in you at the thought of him carrying you, so you gladly accepted and jumped in his arms. You looked small in his arms, but you felt so safe and secure as one of his large arms held you up. He grabbed your bags of food and let you hold them as he helped you clock out and lock up.

Your head rested in his neck as your arms wrapped around him, when he had taken off his coat to drape over you. He didn’t mind to walk you home to your apartment that was two blocks away, as long as you were with him he was content.

Once home you both ate comfortably and soon were cuddling in bed, Miguel the whole time held you close and promised to keep you safe, letting you know that you’d never see your ex again, and when you asked how that would be possible, he stated,

“Just let me take care of it Amor... you’ll be ok. Now rest baby.. I’ll be here with you in the morning.. I texted my boss that I won’t be coming in. So sleep amor.”

You lifted your head off his chest and pecked his lips as you thanked him,

“Thank you... for everything. I don’t deserve you-“

Miguel held your cheek and insisted,

“You deserve all of me and more.. and I’ll remind you everyday until you believe it.”

He kissed away your tears and kissed you once more as you nodded,

“Ok... I love you.”

“I love you so much more. Te voy a amar... por siempre.”

And with that you had passed out in his arms, cuddled close to his chest, your heart beats synchronizing as one.

Miguel made sure you had passed out deeply, before sliding out of bed and kissing you back to sleep as he covered you completely and made sure you were ok, before leaving the place. He had a promise to keep, and he intended to do it as fast as possible.

—————-

“He’s yours.”

Officer Jefferson Davis looked at Miguel with a frown as he saw the beat up Damien in who he knew as Spider-Man 2099’s hands. Jefferson grabbed Damien and asked,

“Well what did this punching bag do?”

Damien cried pathetically as he tried to reach for Miguel,

“He’s crazy! I didn’t do anything! Aren’t you supposed to fight villains and not civilians?!?”

Miguel stood tall and interrupted him,

“You harassed the library lady today, and threatened to hurt her. Villains hurt people.. and you like to hurt women.. so that makes you a villain. And I’m not going to let that happen.”

Jefferson nodded his head in agreement and replied to Spider-Man,

“That’s good enough to lock him up for a while-“

He then pulled Damien towards an Officer as he added,

“-you look like the kind of loser that pulls those stunts- damn my wife would beat your ass. Get him in cuffs and to the station. He doesn’t deserve a hospital-“

“But I think he broke my arms!-“

Jefferson rolled his eyes and huffed,

“Good! Now you’ll have another reason why to not hit women!”

Once he was dragged away, he went to thank Spider-Man,

“I appreciate this. It’s hard to catch these guys sometimes, but I’m glad you keep an eye out for them and for the community.”

Shaking his hand Miguel responded,

“It’s not a problem.. just.. just keep in him there for the longest time you can.”

Jefferson understood without needing more, so he promised,

“I’ll make sure of that. Now I need to go make sure that happens-“

With a salute Miguel bid,

“You do that Sir. Have a goodnight.”

Saluting back Jefferson smiled,

“You too Spider-Man.”

Back at home, and in your arms, Miguel smiled to himself at seeing your peaceful self, knowing you wouldn’t be hurt by Damien ever again. Softly he placed a kiss on your cheek and whispered,

“He won’t hurt you again.. te amo.”

Now he held you close to him and soon fell asleep to the sound of your breathing and warmth against him. Both of you sleeping soundly in peace and security.

Spanish translations:

Corazon- heart

Te voy a amar por siempre- I’ll love you forever

Que idiota- what an idiot

Hijo de puta- son of a bitch

Vete al carajo- go to hell

Respira- breathe

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x reader fluff #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #asks answered #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #spider man 2099 #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #spiderman into the spiderverse

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imagionationstation · 20 days

Text

Today on the Mikey Is Not Abused news

Research shows that 78% of the “Poor Mikey” fanclub claims that Mikey is incapable of standing up for himself, whether that be because he fears further abuse, fears his brothers in general, suffers from intense depression, an abuse sort of conditioning, or *insert other incredulous views here* (Statistics may not be entirely accurate and should be used with caution).

Unfortunately for them, Mikey does knows how to stand up for himself and it has been shown that he can speak his mind to even the main abuser, Raphael, and walk away unscathed.

Astonishing claim, I know, but the facts prove themselves.

Mikey has brought up beliefs on several occasions, but his lack of awareness outside his own mind often disproves his own claims.

Years of leprechauns, cream cheese demons, and certainty in cupcake uprisings have worn down his brothers’ trust in his word on many different subjects. This is not his brothers ignoring him out of spite. This is merely because he has proven himself to be an unreliable source when it comes to reality.

His lack of interest in taking most battles and training sessions seriously grate on his brothers’ nerves and often lead them to doubt his prowess and abilities on the field. Mikey being the youngest and earning all of their must protect with life instincts doesn’t exactly help his case. He knowingly brings much of their wrath upon himself- with tauntings, and purposefully infuriating acts, and the constant reappearance of Dr. Prankenstein.

When Mikey doesn’t go gun-hoe or call Raph out for a whack on the head, it’s probably because he’s conscious enough to know he likely said/did something stupid, or because he purposefully did something annoying.

However, if he sees an injustice affect another by his brothers’ hand, he will be the first one to stand up and correct it.

Mikey is proven to be more likely to speak his mind when it comes to others around him getting retribution that he deems underserved.

IN FACT, a few of the only times fans actually see an aggressive argument/challenge poised to a brother is to Raphael, often in regards to his crass judgement.

Take Fourfold Trap as an example:

“I got the answer for you! Karai’s a lost cause!”

“Don’t say that, dude!”

Mikey shoves at Raph’s shoulder to make him face him and they both begin yelling/bickering/roughly gesturing. Mikey is in no way scared of how Raph will react to this and is immediate in getting physically aggressive and speaking his mind.

Not normally how someone who’s been abused all their life would act towards the main abuser, I think. Not convincing enough?

Well, The Curse of Savanti Romero is another:

In it, Renet is seen admitting to her mistake of letting Romero loose. Raph responds by immediately coming down on her for it, even though she understands and regrets her mistake.

Mikey has zero hesitations about jumping into the picture.

“You really are the worst time traveler ever! The worst!”

“Back off, bro! She needs our help!”

Psychology of most abusers would not point to this kind of situation going well. If this were the case- in no universe would Raphael have relented under his brother’s glare and stepped away, especially not after being shoved and yelled at in front of someone outside the family. That would be seen as a calling for punishment.

Moving away would be letting the abused assert dominance and think that they’ve gotten away with a win.

If this were really an abusive relationship, then Raphael would have had a far more violent reaction to his youngest brother butting in.

Instead, he growled, glared, and then relented. He could tell this was not an issue that could be further challenged. Mikey was standing his ground, intensely meeting his glare, and so Raph stepped away.

Now, have there been times where Mikey felt like he was left out or being ignored and that made him feel insecure?

Yes. Absolutely. Mikey Gets Shellacne is a prime example.

But, have the abusers, his older brothers, been made to share similar feelings of being unable to rely on their brothers at one time or another? Perhaps due to his direct or indirect actions? Why, yes.

Because, as hard as it is to believe, every person in that family has made mistakes when dealing with another family member. Relationships are hard. Not one person, or mutant, is perfect, and facing or accepting insecurities is always a fact of growing up.

Is this to say Mikey never stands up for himself?

No. Not even close.

Is it ever portrayed as something big and dramatic as a focal point of an episode? No. Because it doesn’t need to be.

If Mikey holding onto resentment and depression from how his brother abuse him was meant to be part of his character, it would have been a plot point in the episode where they’re literally in his brain. There would have been the slightest hint of something going on somewhere in that chaotic realm.

Instead, Mikey’s brain welcomed all of his brother with open arms.

And the true, inner Mikey runs ecstatically toward his brothers and into Leo’s open arms for snuggles, no more scared of his brothers inside his mind than outside of it.

The only time that he has thoughts of “my brothers are so mean to me I should run away” is the episode The Croaking, where he takes accountability and has the realization that his brothers aren’t the jerks that he thought they were when he ran off…

“Dude. Your brothers sound awesome.”

“Yeah. They are… Even after I trashed the house.”

Mikey doesn’t often react violently to his brother’s teasing because there’s not a reason too. He understands that his brother’s pick on him, but in reality, he picks on them too. It’s not a big enough deal to point out unless an evil planet is letting Angry Mikey consume all of his thoughts and then everything is terrible.

Mikey can stand up for himself. Mikey will always stand up for others.

And that brings this article to an end. Subscribe for more!

Next time, we’ll discuss why Parasitica May or May Not have a worse reputation than it truly deserves. Cowbunga!

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balkanradfem · 2 months

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So I've had some thoughts and I don't actually believe that males aren't attracted to women over 25, they absolutely can't even tell a 40yo from a 25yo woman, they made it clear they're only attracted to visual features and they don't even know what age they're looking at. But they are still absolutely obsessed with youth and repeatedly attempt to mingle with female teenagers and try to find a partner who is in the age brackets from 14-21. I do believe a lot of these males are pedophiles, or have converted themselves into pedophiles, but also the end goal of pedophiles and other males is the same: to find a girl/woman with no background knowledge or previous experience.

Even if a 18 year old woman looks exactly like a 25 year old woman, they'll go for the 18 year old, not because she's more attractive or 'fertile', it's simply because they can have that much more power and influence over her. They can tell her anything about life and she wouldn't know the difference, wouldn't know she's being lied to. She hasn't yet had the experience of tolerating male nonsense to the point of breaking, hasn't seen trough their schemes and grooming process, she doesn't know their true intentions, she doesn't have her finances/career/living situation in order, she is more vulnerable, more naive, more easy to exploit. She's still filled with hope and optimism, inclined to believe the best of them, to give them benefit of the doubt, to forgive and tolerate and do whatever she's told to, in order to gain their approval.

25 year old woman will not do this so easily, she's probably had enough experience with the world and the m*n to see the red flags instantly. The 40 year old woman, who looks exactly as attractive, will not even spare him the second glance, he's nothing to her, she knows his value is null.

I don't think it's youth, appearance, or any other kind of 'biological impulse' that makes m*n go after younger women, it's just the amount of power they're able to have over younger women. The idea of a woman who knows who they are and what they stand for is intensely non-attractive to them, a woman who understands their core and knows their intentions, that is a complete no-go, they'd rather throw insults at her and make sure she can't communicate her knowledge to the younger generations.

But a younger woman who is still under the effects of patriarchal grooming, who is easy to convince, manipulate, trick, cheat, who is without any defenses, naive, gullible, that's where their attraction is amplified. If the situation suddenly switched and all of the younger women had the exact experience and power of mature women, while mature women were under some kind of amnesia and thought m*n were cool, and were willing to do whatever for them, the attraction would flip just like that. M*n really can't do well anywhere except among children who are fawning over them, not knowing what they're looking at.

Being young and without experience makes a woman so much less likely to be able to defend herself against abuse, so much more easily pulled into doing things against her own benefit, much more easily obliged with a promise of a fake future that will never happen. And they all know they're pulling those young women into relationships/partnerships under fake pretenses, that they're just going to use these young women, until they age up to the point where they're sick of his bullshit, and then find new, younger, more inexperienced, more easy to manipulate girls.

What I'm saying is that their attraction grows only with girls and women's inability to truly consent to what they're going to do to her. If those young women knew where the situation was going, they would never say yes to it, and m*n all know it.

#consent #radical feminism #feminism #cult of female youth #males lying about being attracted to younger women #they're attracted to lack of defenses #and lack of consent

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jinkiezzsstuff · 1 month

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Hi hi! I have a request^^

Can you write about a fem!bratty (optionally bunny) reader and how they would handle them? Sitting on either Alastor, Vox or Val's (whomever you're most comfy writing about💗) lap and how they would react to that, ending up in spicy scenes? Only if you're okay with writing that sweetheart.

ouuu i really wanted to do val because i’ve never done him before! and i think it’s obvious but just so we’re all clear laddies i do not like valentinos abusive behaviour however he’s got personality in the show outside of that, that’s what we like not the abuse. this didn’t get too spicy i hope that’s okay! just a little teasing, maybe ill do a part two who knows. :)

warnings: toxic relationship on both sides, aphrodisiac mentioned but not the trope, bunny fem reader, exhibitionism, briefly mentioned that valentino has hit reader - she likes it, brat reader, yall are both fucked up fr fr, i don’t know vals sexuality whether it’s gay or bi but here he’s bi, reader is a princess too, whiny like me fr, and a porn star although not explicitly explained

word count: 999

Valentino was the veteran of brats, so he wasn’t surprised when coming across them, however he knew how to take care of them; you however were an absolute pain. You made Valentino equal amounts of horny and enraged, you forced yourself into the princess role within the studio, you would whine and cry whenever you didn’t want to do a certain scene or role. If you’re cute little bunny self hadn’t made him bucks- he would’ve gotten rid of you long ago, you opposed him at every given chance and met his angry while cheeky grins and coy remarks. It infuriated him, he had no idea how you behaved in your life but it was clear a little bruise and fear wouldn’t put you in your place- but rather invoke more disrespect. You were hoppin on thin ice.

Ears drooping, you sat at the booth, arms crossed, lips pouting as you looked at your boss lounging with both men and women sinners alike, while you were being punished for being snooty on set. He found the best way to give you a proper punishment was to give you nothing at all, regardless of whether it was cruelty or kindness you liked having his attention, so instead he would take it away. Thumping your foot against the floor you watched as he ogled at the women and men, whispering vulgarities to them while simultaneously trying to hook them up in the industry.

It boiled your blood, Valentino was your game, your fun, and when he wasn’t there to play with you, whether it be violent, casual or sexual, it was all your mind could think about. You liked being Valentino's little princess, his little brat. Your bunny nose twitched, smelling the hot pink aphrodisiac smoke that wafted toward you. You admired Valentino from the small distance across the table as he lounged back, two of his arms across the back of the booth seats, one holding his pipe and the last on his drink. Valentino was no doubt crude, but he was also comedic, that’s what continually pulled you back in, was that he had such a personality despite being so hyper sexual and abusive.

You sipped your drink, picking at the salt on the rim with your bedazzled nail. Your eyes never left him, but he wouldn’t even meet your eyes, purposefully glazing over your figure. It was so frustrating, you could feel your heart rate increasing as your thoughts took off, fantasising about all the ways you could get him back. “We gotta go daddy, so sorry,” One sinner cooed before her and the other two women with her stood, said their goodbyes and left. Now it was just Valentino, two other guys and yourself. For the first time tonight a cute little smile graced your face, while mischief flooded your mind as you plotted to get Valentinos attention.

Standing from your seat, your every move was very intentional, your hand dragged across the table as you slid yourself out, nails scratching softly as you did. Slowly and purposefully, you made your way to the other side of the table where Valentino sat, your movements slow as you watched his body language. He wasn’t back down, instead busied himself with conversation, asking silly little business questions with the other incubus’. Sliding back down, Valentino didn’t stop you when you nudged yourself into his lap. Instead two sets of arms opened encasing you instantaneously making a dangerous warmth bloomed through you.

Valentino continued to pay no mind even as you played with the rings on his fingers, even when you seductively dipped you finger in his cup and sucked it clean. His buddy’s did though, eyeing your deceptively cutesy bunny form, watching you blink up at Valentino with yearning in your eyes wishing you were looking at them like that. Growling, Valentino tried his hardest to ignore your tactics, however it progressively got more difficult as you wiggled around on his lap.

“Bunny, don’t make me show you not to test me.~” Valentino sang out, one of his fingers caressing the side of your face. Looking behind your shoulder up at him with your big black bunny eyes, you innocently blinked up at him, your ears twitching. “What do you mean papi.” You whined slightly condescendingly, fluttering your lashes definitely tempting fate. “Oh please, I’ll have you bent over this table for testing me in public, you wanna play? Let’s play.” He hunched down and stuck out his tongue to flick up your neck. You shivered at the feeling of his warm tongue, his pink saliva staining your skin. You shivered in delight intoxicated by the smell of his smoke and potent cologne.

You obviously didn’t stop, and Valentino got progressively more frustrated at your defiance. One on his hands danced down the curves of your body, when he reached then hem of your pants, he lazily slid his hand down to cup the entirety of your mound with his long hands. You whined, circling your hips, unashamed at the two other men watching. Valentino continued to talk to the two guys about getting some new furniture for different scenes, completely ignore you as his fingers and palm lazily moved along your vulva.

Gripping the table, you groaned, leaning back onto Valentinos chest. “Look at you being such a little whore, all for me mm how erotic.” Valentino dragged out his words with a playful hint to his voice but only because he was playing the game, your guys’ favourite game. His fingers trailed up to lightly circle your clit sending shockwaves up your body. Valentino lowered his pipe to your lips and without hesitation you opened and inhaled his toxins letting whatever he had infect you. With a sigh your body melted into him, your legs spread wide for his access, you could already feel yourself soaking the fabric covering you. You simply leaned back and enjoyed the pleasure lost in the haze of his smoke and touch.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel smut #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino x reader #valentino smut #x reader #xreader

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bella-goths-wife · 27 days

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Imagine V’s pet just starts calling Vox dad and the other two uncle and Auntie, they don’t even do it intentionally it just slips sometimes.

Would Vs pet call Vox dad accidentally?

Warnings: Valentino, mentions of SA and abuse, dehumanising reader

If I’m being honest, I don’t think you’d call Vox dad unless you were trying to manipulate him

He would absolutely do the “please, call me dad” or the “I’m practically your dad” line on you and you’d just look at him with a cringing expression

Because you’d be thinking about why on earth you’d call the man who regularly abuses you, lets others abuse you, exploits you and is actively holding your soul hostage dad?

Like, why couldn’t he just be absent like your real dad?

So i think you’d only ever do it if you wanted to manipulate Vox into giving you something or letting you refuse a request from the others

As for velvette, you call her auntie and she’s beating your ass

Your not a real person to velvette, your an item she obsesses over and a pet that brings her entertainment and fulfils her needs

She doesn’t view you as family because then she’d have to view you as an equal

If she’s in a good mood she’ll allow you to call her a shortened nickname like ‘vel’ but that’s very rare

If you have to call her a nickname she’d want you to just stick to calling her boss

Auntie just doesn’t fit her image of herself, or her image of the relationship you two share

Now I could see Valentino being weird or playful and saying something like “come spend the day with your uncle Val”

But apart from that I doubt he’d like it if you called him uncle

He views you as more of a person than velvette does, but he still also sees you as just something that fulfils his needs and give him entertainment

Calling him uncle would give him a small realisation of how he’s treating you when he’s touching you or sexualising you

And he does not like to be self aware of his actions, he wants to pretend that he is untouchable to judgement or morality

So being reminded that what he’s doing is actually abuse to a person who he finds himself caring about is an unpleasant experience for him, and he doesn’t like to experience negative emotions

If you did call it him, it would be a similar reaction to how he reacted in the breakdown fic

He’d just stop his actions and let you leave while he contemplates what he’s done

He’d probably go to your room or voxs room in the middle of the night and ask to be held

He’d demand to be praised and reassured that his actions are justified

All in all I think the characters you’d accidentally call auntie, uncle, dad or mom would probably be Charlie, vaggie, lucifer, Rosie, alastor, angel, husk and cherri bomb

But that’ll probably become self explanatory in future fics

Tag list so far :)

@lilyalone @the-faceless-bride @corvid007 @repostingmyfavs @buttercupfangirl

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alienwithaguitar · 1 month

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Shelby said a lot during her stream, teetering from honorable to downright strange, and I want to address some of the issues. Before I say anything, I am still supportive of Shelby’s story, but this stream revealed a lot to me. I especially push Shelby supporters to read this, as this stream pushed MANY people I know to a neutral stance.

Shelby claimed having a depressive disorder just involved "feeling depressed", which is a harmful misconception that minimizes our struggles. Depression is more than feeling sad, and is categorized as being "different from regular mood changes and feelings about everyday life." It can involve constant hopelessness, angry outbursts, loss of motivation in most activities, and can lead to fluctuating weights, suicidal ideations, and self-sabotaging. To say "we all feel a little depressed sometimes" is to dismiss the lifelong struggles people with depression go through.

Shelby also implies that people with mental illness cannot change, and that recovery is not possible if your depression has hurt others. Not only is that an incredibly harmful idea to spread, it's blatantly incorrect. Just as habits and thoughts are trained throughout your life, they can also be untrained. There is genuine psychological basis in this, and to say that recovery is impossible is scientifically false. Personalities shift our entire lives, and changes in our physical and mental environments help us train new habits. This is part of the reason we try forming better schedules in new environments, and why a consistently stressful environment can bloom negative habits.

People don't chose to have mental illness, and if you're never taught to handle it, it can be extremely easy to hurt others. The most powerful tool to recovery is believing you can be better, and Shelby telling people to not even try is just enabling self-destructive people to hurt others for the rest of their lives. Change is a long process, but it's absolutely possible- Something as simple as a disruption in your life, a wake up call, and a drive to be a better person are the first steps to kickstarting change.

Shelby’s claims are very strange considering the rest of the stream. Earlier, she went on a rant about content creator’s influence on teenagers. She acknowledged teenagers are impressionable, and that it’s important to take care of those looking up to you. She recognized her fanbase was mainly teenagers, many of whom struggle from mental illness. It feels backwards to emphasize being a good role model before telling thousands of kids that their mental illness makes them a bad person. Her statement was about treating people with kindness no matter what, but she couldn’t keep that energy for people with depression.

Shelby herself was able to find help in therapy, so to deny that others should seek help feels selfish. She also confirmed on stream that she's seen the informative resources people sent her, and that she has ignored them. I can excuse the stereotyping if she's willing to be educated, but she's made it clear she believes she’s right. This is one thing I cannot defend, and I can't forgive her for slandering myself and thousands of struggling teens’ progress to their faces.

One final thing Shelby mentioned was that we should wait for evidence, and it's alright to feel doubtful. I want to revisit her statement with the current evidence we have, that I will take with a grain of salt by her own request. With the proof we have, nothing that Shelby claims comes across as abusive outside of the biting.

Shelby said she would get locked in his house at times. UK houses need a key to unlock the inside, and Wilbur likely only had one. While at his house, Shelby had access to her phone, and there were ways she could communicate with him or call for help if this was a problem. We have no evidence to claim that he trapped her. Shelby also stated her family never met Wilbur, because she had to travel to meet him. It wouldn't be unreasonable to stay in his house for an extended amount of time, and that was entirely her choice. She certainly might have felt neglected, but to claim that it was entrapment is baseless.

Wilbur was also busy with tours, absent nearly 200 days of the year. Feeling lonely makes sense, but raising that as abusive and holding it against him is ridiculous. As a famous musician, Wilbur has obligations that he legally can't drop. This was something she needed to be aware of when pursuing a relationship with him. She's allowed to wish things were different, but genuinely expecting him to abandon his lifelong passion is more than a little strange. This doesn't detract from her feelings, but to hold his legal obligations over his head when she should’ve known he'd be busy is unreasonable.

Shelby has also made a point of publicly shaming his hygiene. The inability to care for yourself and your space is a common symptom of depression. It was kind of her to clean, but her words imply she thinks he's just lazy. She explicitly notes that Wilbur didn’t expect her to clean, but that he waited for her to clean. This is weird to specify, as people with depression typically don't make plans to clean for long periods of time. She likely just assumed his inaction was a sign for her to do it, rather than something he struggled with and had no plans to do anyway. I don't think she was right for shaming his depressive habits, and I don't think he was right for dismissing her help. However, the comments he made about her cleaning very strongly imply that he never had plans to clean either way. This just reads as a choice to help out, not expectation or pressure.

Based on the evidence we have now, the points Shelby made just come across as her dating a mentally ill man and not being prepared for the challenges that come with that. Her family never met him, and he was very busy, so there wasn’t much outside opinion she could get. It's reasonable for her to feel neglected, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was intentional harm. It's important for both parties to get help, to communicate what happened and talk about their feelings. Wilbur stated he was committed to talking with her and addressing her concerns, while Shelby blocked him and refused to communicate, despite telling him she wanted to remain friends. All she's done since is reject his apology (even though he made a statement, not an apology, for legal reasons) and ignore his requests to speak. This avoidance to communicate is likely why the lines of consent and expectation were blurred in their relationship, as they've both expressed an inability to communicate.

This was not written to discredit Shelby's experience, I do believe she has trauma. However, you can absolutely be traumatized by relationships that weren't necessarily abusive. I've experienced years of PTSD from completely fabricated nightmares, and have trauma from repeated hallucinations of my ex. She’s not lying about her feelings- But between the contradictions, refusing to talk with Wilbur about an apology, and the insistence to "communicate” despite the fact that she blocked him, I can't support Shelby's actions.

I will always fight to uplift victims, and I am sympathetic of her story, but I can't defend someone who makes no effort to communicate or educate herself before speaking. Until either of them presents something that is beyond "he said, she said" I will remain neutral. I think they both deserve a chance to change and talk about this privately, and I will be waiting for a better response in the mean time. There was clearly miscommunication, and this was brought to us prematurely (shown by her contradicting statements.) I urge you all to look at the evidence and hopefully come to a similar conclusion. You can feel for someone's experiences and sympathize with their mental state without endorsing them. Stay safe, be kind, and don't jump to any conclusions. 🤍

#wilbur #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #not a wilbur defense post #but its still important to consider #shelby #shubble #shelby shubble #wilbur support squad #shubble support squad #shelby support squad

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yeahthatsonearthdipshit000 · 1 year

Text

things that I didn't expect in each Lockood & Co. episode

E.1: This Will Be Us:

The intro is fucking sick

THE DOOR ON THE LANDING IS IN THE INTROOOOO

The Locket was changed to a ring?!????

Everything else was insanely accurate

"Lockwood's a dick"

E.2: Let Go Of Me:

Ghost-lock is like...a really big issue??

"Yeah, she can be a bit...quirky,"

Lockwood didn't use his smiley giraffe toy mobile😭

Uh Lucy was literally possessed~

LOCKWOOD'S RED SOCKSSS

"He's a little shit, sir."

The boys freaking out at the end when they find out Lucy had the ring the whole time

E.3: Doubt Thou The Stars:

"You've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you?" "Well, if you want to put it like that."

Combe Carrey Hall is ELEGANT

THE GOGGLES ARE SO GOOFY LOOKING OML

They got "arrested"???

Penelope Fittes just trotting up to them at the Fitte's boy's funeral??

LUCY GETTING HER FOURTH GRADE

LUCY JUST FUCKING PASSING OUT AT THE END???

E.4: Sweet Dreams:

Lucy wasn't at the wraith cemetery at the beginning of the whispering skull😭

"And you just wanna watch him...die."

JOPLIN IS A WOMANNNNNN💅💅💪💅😭

Kensel Green was owned by the Bickerstaffs and their son - Edmund - was caught digging up corpses uhhhhh

Lucy's mental breakdown in kensel green

Bickerstaffs ghost being so fucking huge and like disintegrating lucy's rapier

The skull's voice being like warped and so fucking creepy oml

"and it proves that I am like-" "clinically insane?" "REALLY FUCKIN POWERFUL"

"I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor."

The episode went by insanely quick??? Like?

E.5: Death Is Coming:

The Tendy's badge??

Joplin is giving....pedophile

Also is her actor the same one who plays molly in sherlock????

MRS WINKMAN IS A FUCKIN BADASS

Nahhh cuz winkman's freaking voice-

LOCKWOOD WAS IN AN ELECTRIC CHAIR THE WHOLE TIME LMAO

ALSO WHY IS WINKMAN SO VIOLENT ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO CARESS LOCKY'S HAND AND TELL HIM TO GO AWAY??

Leopold was abused😭😭😭😭😭

E.6: You Never Asked:

The ghosts of bickerstaff's patients like that was so creepy

The Golden Blade's manbun💅

Salt sprinklers instead of water sprinklers??? And they're gorgeous??!???

E.7: Mesmerised

LOCKWOOD HYPERVENTILATING AT THE AUCTION AND HIM AND LUCY HOLDING EACH OTHER AND THE "NOW PLEASE PLEASE GET BACK TO BEING A FLIPPANT DICKGEAD AND GET US OUT OF HERE"😭😭😭

Golden blade snapping Lockwood's rapier and then lucy hoping up behind him and absolutely annihilating his fucking back

Lockwood was wearing blue socks this time

"You me and herons, let's do it" AHSHSVSH I'VE ALWAYS SHIPPED GEORGE AND FLO ITS FINALLY HAPPENINGBKAJDBD

LOCKWOOD HELPING LUCY OF THE GROUND AND THEM LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THEY'RE GONNA KISS AND THEN LUCY SHOVING LOCKY AND StRuTtInG AWAY

E.8: Not The Eternal:

All of the circles George drew on the thinking cloth

Winkman taking his jacket off like a baddie💅💪

"And I'm Anthony bloody Lockwood"

Kipps having a panic attack and totally crying in the catacombs😭

Kat godwin being so fucking sexy with her rapier

"To save my friends." 🏃‍♂️"And Kipps."🏃‍♂️

Golden Blade shooting Lockwood and yeeting him down into the catacombs

Luce using the skull to look at the bone glass????

Lockwood in his normal clothes at the end and all of them bustling around like a little family😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Lockwood almost died a thousand times, but I think he's decided he's better off alive. Which is really good"

LUCY SHOVING A DONUT IN GEORGE'S MOUTH LMAOOO

AND LOCKY WASN'T WEARING SHOES

IN CONCLUSION I AM READY FOR THE HOLLOW BOY

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comfortless · 2 months

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sylly (like silly yk yk) what are your könig hcs? 🌹

SYLLY?! i…. Ok…. fair warning this is a little long… all that i do is think about this guy someone get him out of my head.

tread carefully reading this! there is a lot of sensitive content here: mental health stuff, abuse, mentions of sex and pornographic material, suicidal ideation, etc etc.

Generic, silly headcanons:

He prefers coffee (black) over tea, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth (will never resist caramel if it’s presented to him). Honestly, he’s pretty self-reliant when it comes to food, too. On lazy days, he makes enough to where a takeout bill is hardly a concern, but for the most part he cooks! Not a chef by any means, but nothing he ever makes is bad!

Definitely wants a big, loving family, the polar opposite of what he had growing up as an only child in a far less than perfect household. Not a dealbreaker, but he does yearn for all of the love that he’s missed out on and then some.

Not big on video games, but… I do think he is absolutely spending every lonely leave playing Elder Scrolls. Would be so easy to convince to go larping or to a renfaire. I see everyone’s car/bike guy headcanons and I raise you… obsessed with fantasy König. He loves history and myth!! Why not combine the two and see him in chainmail.

The scent & kink posts. But to add… he’s an affectionate biter. (,: Knows the correct places to do so that won’t cause damage or hurt too terribly much. Likes to sniff you just as well! The embodiment of the “merge souls with me” post; in love, he just wants to feel you any way that he can and have some part of you lingering on him, even if it’s just a stray hair or your scent clinging to his shirt or pillowcase.

Cheating is never on this guy’s mind when he’s in a relationship. If he’s found a lady not running for the hills the second she catches sight of him, that’s his one and only. Sure, he may find himself attracted to someone else at some point or other during the duration of a relationship, but he’s devoted and disciplined! There’s never the fear of anyone coming in between he and his lover. He’ll spoil you with gifts, clingy to a point it’s overbearing, always giving you the utmost care… but is not opposed to bullying you into being a submissive, trembling mess either. He’s balanced!

Adores animals. Like any of them. There’s a special place in his heart for cats, but having a constant companion that he can take on hikes like a large dog would be ideal. Would definitely consider owning a tarantula or a snake, too. ^^ He isn’t scared of anything, let alone a creature that most are misinformed about… (he projects a little..). He would treat them just as well as anyone would treat a more “normal” pet. Understanding if you wouldn’t want to hold a giant arachnid (they’re delicate and you squirming over it would make him a bit protective over the poor thing. ): ), but it would mean a lot to him if you were more accepting.

König would not be a pretty sight (to most people) the majority of the time… I doubt that he takes care of himself past training his body and his allotted one-two minute military showers. His character description describes what is rumored to be under his mask as scary. Let him have his buzzcut, and scars, and teeth or old wounds a little too fucked up to fix! Unconventionally attractive is still attractive! (i think his ‘face reveal’ is actually so cute…)

Lots of sporadic little thoughts, but… Ambidextrous, can not ride a bike, whistles/hums to fill lapses of silence, flexes his fingers/cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, definitely snores (loudly), brushes his teeth like 3-4 times a day (when he can) because he eats so much, not a picky eater at all, thinks it’s cute if you’re affectionately a little grossed out by him from time to time, absolutely the kind of person that thinks fuel and fire smell good, fluent in English and German but certainly knows many words and phrases from other languages.

Kind of clumsy. Overthinks the way his body looks to the point where sometimes his movements are a little stiff. Overestimates how tall a door frame may be if he’s distracted in the presence of others, hits his head and plays it off like he didn’t even notice. He’s (obviously) highly confident on the field, but in regular circumstances it’s totally reversed.

Though. Yeah. Sometimes this does translate onto the field. Can’t stay in one place for too long, once knocked an enemy soldier out by barreling into him. He’s a quick shot, skillful with any weapon that falls into his hands, but his focus can get a little skewed.

He collects some things. Nothing exactly pricy, but antique knives, coins, and a pocket watch or two. And he isn’t the most apt at putting things together in an appealing way… The first time you’re allowed into his house it looks like he’s robbed some vintage hunting shop/is planning something nefarious with the way he’s just got a few daggers strewn about his kitchen table. Just push them to the side, it’s fine! (His favorite is certainly one with a handle carved from a stag’s antler.)

Definitely takes a physical approach to bad feelings. @melancholic-thing mentioned to me that he bites himself when he’s feeling dejected or frustrated and yeah. (All of Ghost’s hcs for him are factually correct.) Not going to punch a hole through the wall but may aggressively slam a door or raise his voice before he can catch himself.

I have many thoughts about König’s childhood/early adulthood. Like, too many. But to summarize…

I think that everyone experiences bullying to an extent but what would make it so bad that it managed to make its way into the scraps that we do have of him? What made him so fundamentally unlikable to his peers? /: With my König I’ve settled on it being a blend of neurodivergency and a nightmare home life and alienation from his peers.

Height is predominantly viewed as a good trait. I don’t think it was necessarily his appearance at all that got him picked on so heavily (albeit… I do think that he would have had some scars, crooked teeth, regular facial bruising or cuts from scraps with other children/his father). Perhaps not the most conventionally attractive guy around, but normally viewed as a solid 5/10, just average. The kind of person who you wouldn’t remember from just a face alone.

His personality was always memorable though.

Whilst the other children/teenagers were interested in the regular trends, sports, whatever was shown on the television or heard on the radio at the time, I think he probably would have had a great interest in escapism!!

Comics, books, researching history and geography, etc, anything that could keep him from thinking of where he was/what other people viewed him as. He had a lot of strange things to say: odd facts (like the kind of person to tell you the longest word in the dictionary because he thinks it’s cool, “um actually—“ to correct something, monologuing about some bug you’ve just squashed and how it was not just a pest but very useful in nature, borderline concerning reactions to being shunned (feigned threats of violence that he would laugh off, things he’s probably heard from media and his own parents), over explaining himself for the simplest of misunderstandings, and… quoting his Oma’s very old-fashioned turns of phrase (think of little Kö regularly saying “Du gehst mir tierisch auf den Keks.” when he’s annoyed whereas the others say things far less dated like “Du gehst mir auf den Sack.”)

With him being difficult to relate to and having the most uncanny things slip out of his mouth, others probably did view him as a bit of a freak. He didn’t particularly stand up for himself often either apart from a few fights (and would never hit a girl). He would stay quiet, pretend to focus on his studies or whatever else was before him while the other children jeered and taunted. Regularly a target for fake confessions and offers to hang out outside of school, too.

König did have crushes, did have people he thought were cool and wanted to befriend, but after the third time of showing up someplace that he had to walk to on his own to find that no one had actually wanted to spend their time with him, he gave up.

I don’t think he had a good relationship with his parents or much of anyone. Seriously, leaving for the military at seventeen sets off a ton of alarm bells! He left the week of his Oma’s passing, because what else was there for him — no girlfriend, no prospects, hardly a relationship with his mother or father.

His father was your standard shit parent— womanizing, loud, physically abusive towards König. “Bonding” activities with him always had a heavy lean towards violence: hunting and arguing that usually resulted in fist fighting his own son seemed to be his favorites. A small man with an equally small ego— he probably would have boasted about his affairs to König, exposed him to pornography as a way of making sure his son wasn’t anything other than straight (which: never stopped his curiosity). He would never hold back from telling König that he would never in a million years find a girl willing to put up with his supposed stupidity and shortcomings. Generally just viewed his own son as utterly worthless if not for use as a punching bag.

In turn, König always loathed him, would dread hearing the bastard just walking around the house because he knew he would always find something to bicker with his wife or son over. Nothing that they ever did would be deemed correct, and his social anxiety initially developed from his dealings with him.

His mother was withdrawn, emotionally neglectful. König was just… there to her; another mouth to feed, another person begging for the attention she would have rather spared on herself.

She wasn’t a bad mother and she did try, but the product of dealing with his father’s nonsense + letting her own mental illness go unchecked (as in, his father controlled the family financially and why would he let her blow through their funds to see a therapist and “lose her lucidity with pills and ridiculous talks”). There were some days when she would be feeling more like herself and take König along with her for walks through the park where she would try to ask him about his life, about school, and… he would end up spilling his guts to her only for her to return to silence. Still, those were his favorite days. His fondest memory was picking a flower for her on one of those walks, one that she kept pressed and later framed.

There were never family dinners, no movie nights, no day trips or vacations. The most blissful of days were spent in the comfort of his room where he could keep the door locked and muffle the sounds of his parents arguing with loud music.

So, König did not have much of a safe space within his own home, but he had his Oma and her cluttered little house. She had books and plenty of food, even a cat, too. Though she was like his mother, stern and withdrawn, she would at least sit with him and tell him stories of her own life. She would at least tell him “Ich lieb dich, Käferchen!” in her quiet voice, stroke his head where he would sit with his nose buried in a book beside her. She would show him her dusty antiques, her old photographs, and in turn taught him to be a proper man by making him tend to what needed to be done around her house. And the garden. He loved his Oma’s garden, full of orchids, petunias, and tomatoes she would mash up to make him goulash or tomatensalat!

With Austria’s leading religion being Catholicism, I do think his Oma would have dragged him with her to service plenty, too. Not that he ever particularly enjoyed it… just zoned out with a plastic soldier in his pocket to fidget with or some trading card he spent the money he earned doing chores for her on. He’s never considered himself religious, thought himself to be bound for Hell no matter what, even if most of the time he felt that he was already there.

You take a puppy that’s been beaten down his entire life, but still remains eager and throw him in a barrack with people more horrible than any bully he’s ever had, though…? He starts taking his father’s advice more and more then. He wouldn’t harm anyone that he didn’t view as deserving of it, but it didn’t need to go that far that often, anyway. König is aware of the space he takes up by then, aware that all of his training has made him more broad and sturdy, and those playground fights are nothing compared to what he’s capable of now.

He gets his callsign from a quip about him owning nothing. His barrack is empty, devoid of pictures or any sentimental belongings. He rarely checks his phone, there might be the occasional missed call from a spam number, what is there to even see? He has no social media presence, every leave is spent in a shitty apartment only a days travel from his hometown, and he is utterly silent when the other soldiers invite him out for drinks. So yes, he’s a king. The king of absolutely nothing.

One of these rowdy boys does eventually coax him into talking to a woman. He loses his virginity in a disgusting bar bathroom, where he asks her after the two minutes he’s spent inside of her if it means anything to her at all. She laughs, washes herself in the sink and calms him down, but doesn’t give him her number or anything more than her first name.

He’s starved for love, utterly miserable without it, but doesn’t have much of a desire to seek it out, either. He’s seen how people are, how they treat him. But time and time again he will grapple onto any thread that may lead him to a pinhole of hope when it’s offered to him. For the most part, he has his hand and a perpetually almost-empty bottle of lotion.

And it’s not much of a surprise that König has contemplated suicide more times than he can count. It has never culminated in any way, only fearing that he would disappoint his men, even further disappoint his parents, maybe even a small part of him still believes in a Hell; that maybe with enough vigilantism on his part he’ll earn his way to a pleasant afterlife, one he teeters on the separation of believing in and not.

He doesn’t think about his mental health, always haunted by his father’s words, thinking that assuredly it would make him weak if he were to seek help for something like his own thoughts. So he overexerts himself during workouts, bottles everything other than rage and love inside: no one is going to see him cry, not ever again after being laughed at for him hundreds of times during school where he sat being called an “ugly giant” a “daydreaming freak” and an “idiot” near daily where silent tears did escape, only spurring further laughter.

Though I do not write him with these things in mind for every au, there are always subtle hints scattered about. ^^ I could probably prattle on forever about him, but I will leave you with this for now…

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