#the spider did not deter me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fangswbenefits · 10 months

Text

Confession

Summary: You come to Miguel when he least expects, and now there is no turning back.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3.9k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessive Miguel. Inexperienced/V*rgin reader. Oral s*x. Body worship. Dry h*mping. Br*eding k*nk.

Part 1 - Previous part

Miguel chose to give you space and time.

For two whole days, he had kept all interactions with you at a minimum.

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

It pained him that things between you two were now in this limbo. You were still your sweet self as expected, but Miguel had soured. Anyone within a three meter radius could spot it.

So when he walked into HQ with blood dripping from his face, no one dared approach him besides the occasional spider asking if he needed anything.

He dismissed all of them and headed to Lab 2 in search of a first-aid kit to deal with the bleeding bruises.

"Need help, boss?" a fellow spider offered.

Miguel shook his head, and kept going through the countless shelves until you came into his field of vision right in the corner of his eye.

His heart immediately skipped a beat as usual.

Holding a small bag in your hand, you rummaged through it and handed him two pieces of gauze.

"Thanks," he grumbled under his breath, as he pressed the soft fabric to his face.

"What happened?"

Miguel scoffed and turned his head away from you, not wanting to extend the conversation.

He heard you heave a sigh. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Can you please move away, then?"

This time, he shifted to glare at you in confusion.

You smiled warmly and pointed at the lab counter that was covered in drops of blood.

Oh.

He grabbed the bag from your hands and began pacing towards his station, but it seemed that you had no intention of parting ways with him just yet.

And that hurt more than any of his wounds.

Having you around was intoxicating enough, but having to go days without barely seeing or interacting with you, had taken a toll on him.

And the result had been sloppiness and being caught off guard by an anomaly.

Very amateur of him.

Very unlike him.

And all because he had filled his mind with you, since he couldn't physically have you.

But you insisted on being present in his life even when you didn't have to.

Miguel walked through the door and let it slide shut, knowing fully well that wouldn't deter you from stepping inside as well.

"Let me take a look. Please."

He threw you a side-glance, and stopped to glare at his own reflection on the nearby glass wall instead, and determined that the damage could have been much worse.

"Miguel O'Hara, stop being stubborn and let me take a look."

Your kind voice was chewing at his nerves, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping.

He'd rather not have you at all than having your pity.

But then again, there was still that part of him that craved your attention.

And he gave in, like the fool he was.

"Fine."

You were standing by his desk, and he saw the triumph glimmer in your face. "Take a seat."

He swallowed and did what you asked, allowing your hands to cup his face. Your touch had his stomach flip, and he couldn't bring himself from breaking eye contact with you, even when you moved your finger under his chin, tilting his head back slightly.

"Right," you said in a low voice, before removing the bloodied gauze. "It's very superficial. I think I can just use liquid stitches."

He figured as much, but his focus wasn't on his bodily bruises anymore, but on the delicate touch of your hands, the intensity of your roaming eyes, and, above all else, your warmth.

"Hold the bag a bit higher."

Miguel offered it to you, and you smiled in return.

That sweet smile of yours that had him tightly wrapped around your finger for so long.

His sweet girl…

Your touch left his skin briefly as you gathered the needed material to fix him. Miguel allowed his eyes to flutter shut, occasionally hissing from the sting of the antiseptic as you cleaned his wounds. His mind went blank for a few seconds, and he only focused on enjoying how you took care of him.

Miguel had forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of. He had spent so much time looking after others, that having the roles switched felt so foreign, yet so welcome.

"I didn't think you could ever get injured," you said with a faint chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel knew you were trying to lighten the mood, but he remained silent.

You worked on him with impressive expertise, patching him up.

Once you were done, you lightly patted the edges of the adhesive that covered his wounds and stepped away.

Pride settled on your face, and you moved to sit on the chair across his. "Looking good as new."

"Thank you."

He wished he was strong enough to ask you to leave, but he had missed these little moments. He had accepted you needed time and space, but it still hurt to think that he could have been there for you, and that you had pushed him away instead.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a while before taking a deep breath. "Miguel… we should talk."

"What about?"

"Us."

Miguel slowly straightened in his seat.

You had his full attention now.

"I don't want things between us to feel awkward," you began, eyes fixed on his. "I don't want us to grow apart…"

He hadn't seen this coming. He assumed it would take longer than this for you to come to him again.

He wasn't often wrong about many things, but he had been wrong about this.

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he leaned back. "Then what do you want?"

Your gaze faltered briefly. "I thought it'd be easier being with you intimately. It felt less… suffocating. It made it easier for me to bury my feelings." You paused and swallowed. "I know people do this casually, and I assumed you felt that way, too…"

He remained silent for a while, slowly digesting the information you had just dropped on him.

It felt like a confession of sorts, but that last part left a sour taste in his mouth.

"You assumed wrongly," he finally spoke, face twisting into a light scowl. "Is this why you pushed me away the other day? Because you think I only look at you that way?"

Your eyes shot up and you shook your head. "I didn't push you away… I… never meant for that, anyway. I just needed time to think," you said in a whisper. "Like I said, I know some people do this casually… and I would be fine with you just wanting that. I still am," you corrected yourself.

A part of Miguel felt incredulous at this turn of events. Were you confessing you had deeper feelings for him? Or was it all surface-level?

But another part of him wasn't allowing him to fully savour the first possibility. He wanted you. He needed you. But the conclusion you had drawn of him stirred annoyance inside him.

"What do you want from me?" He snapped a bit too harshly.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

"Sex? I can give you that," he said dryly. "But that is not all I want. Is that all you want?"

You looked restless. "I… I think I want more."

"You think? I don't want anything from you that you won't give willingly," he said in a softer tone this time. "This doesn't have to be more than it is. If all you want is intimacy, I can help you out. But I wish for more, and I want you aware of that."

You remained still for a while as if weighing your options.

Not long after, you nodded.

There was absolutely no doubt inside him. He was sure of how he felt about you, and he was too desperate to have anything he could take. Even casual sexual intimacy if that was what it took to soothe his frustration.

But he couldn't hide his true intentions any longer, and had to make things crystal clear for you.

"What about Tom?"

Your eyes widened. "Tom?"

"Yes. How do you feel about him?"

He needed reassurance.

"We'll work on rebuilding our friendship… but that's it."

That was good enough. Realistically, Miguel didn't expect you to sever your bond to your childhood friend. He didn't even want you to, so long as you weren't getting your feelings hurt.

You then rose to your feet and walked to him with unsure steps. Once you were in front of him, Miguel instinctively parted his legs, allowing your to close the distance between you two.

You glanced around you, and Miguel knew what you were silently assessing.

With a quick tap of a finger on his watch, rendering the glass windows opaque.

The newfound privacy made you visibly relax, and you brought your hands to either side of his head, before raking gentle fingers through his hair.

Miguel had to bite back a moan, and tilted his head back, angling it perfectly with yours.

His heart drummed rapidly inside him as you lowered your face to press the softest kiss to his forehead, and he brought his arms to envelop you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in between your breasts.

There was comfort in this type of silence.

Actions did speak louder than words, after all.

The way you began trailing kisses down his face, carefully avoiding his wounds, had him melting into your touch.

You hesitated upon reaching his lips, hovering over them with your own.

He could feel your breath fanning them rhythmically, and he felt the impending erection stirring down below.

And then you kissed him.

It was shy and controlled at first, but he quickly parted his lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into him first, gently tugging at strands of his hair. Miguel's groan tore through his throat and he dropped his hands to your waist, gripping them tightly and bringing you closer to his strained erection.

You jolted once you felt it nudging your legs, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Hard already?"

The genuine tease in your voice awoke in him the urge to breed you. It was primal and intense, and he knew he should keep that to himself for now. However, he would need to know if you were on birth control eventually.

"You make it easy," he chose to say, placing one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into yet another kiss.

He would devour you if you allowed him to.

His tongue slipped past his lips and met yours halfway. You tugged at his hair again and he bucked his hips against you.

He was so painfully hard and already dripping precum.

Just for you.

His sweet girl.

You let him take control and only parted from him once his other hand began to move to your front, fingers dipping between your legs.

Your body language told him to immediately stop, and he did.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "I'm… still getting used to this…" your voice was but a whisper. "Can I… come over to your place later today?"

His cock was throbbing impatiently, craving release from his tight digital suit, but he nodded.

He wanted you to feel comfortable and safe around him, so he placed your needs above his.

He silently vowed to always do this.

You brought your lips to his unarmed cheek and pressed a fleeting peck to it.

"See you later, Mr. Grumpy," you said with a smile before exiting through the sliding door.

Miguel looked down at the visible outline of his cock and contemplated easing some of the tension, but he decided against it.

He would gladly build up all the frustration within him and only you would be able to relieve him from it.

You came to him late at night, before the clock struck midnight.

For the second time that day, you had come to him.

Your steps echoed through the hall and you came into sight, immediately earning his undivided attention.

"Hey, you."

Miguel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Hey."

You were wearing a flowery dress that trapped his gaze. It fit you perfectly, but he couldn't wait to get it off you.

Laughing nervously, you took determined steps to where he sat on his couch until you were close enough.

Miguel met your eyes and watched carefully as you lowered yourself to straddle his waist. Instinctively, his hands slipped under your dress to grip your hips into him.

Then he noticed you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You giggled, biting your lip teasingly. "Is this too much?"

"It's not even enough."

He caressed your skin with his thumbs, as he positioned you right on top of his hardening cock, that was now stirring slowly inside his sweatpants.

You gasped softly as your folds parted to accommodate the underside of his cock, increasing the pressure on your clit.

Miguel considered immediately removed the only layer of clothing that was in the way, but he wanted to feel you soak the fabric.

"I really, really like you," you said through half-hooded eyes, caressing the edges of the bandage covering the wound on his cheek.

Then, you took his lips in yours.

This time, you were the one taking the lead and he let you set the pace. He tasted the impatience and hunger in you, and helped you grind against him. You were a fast learner. You already knew how to sway your hips sensually against his cock, drawing a low groan from him.

Miguel felt his cock fully harden just from feeling your body undulating under the palms of his hands.

You were going to kill him one day. He was sure of this.

Your hands moved from his shoulder to your chest, undoing the cute buttons that held the dress together.

He broke the kiss so he could marvel at your breasts coming into view, as you allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders and arms.

The nipple piercings glistened, and he felt his cock twitch from the sight of the spider pendant dangling from each of them.

He wanted to make you custom ones. Maybe with his own symbol. Or his initials. He wanted to mark you as his, and what better way than this?

"Please touch me," you begged, arching your back lightly.

Sweet.

Hungry.

His.

He brought both hands to your chest and grazed your nipples with the pads of both thumbs, hardening them.

You moaned softly, and kept riding his clothed cock.

"Can I tug gently?"

"Please…"

Miguel's hips jerked to meet yours, and he felt your wetness finally seeping through his pants.

He twirled your nipples at first in between his fingers, before gripping the metal piercing, tugging ever so slightly in awe.

You gasped loudly this time, stilling yourself as he admired the jewelry.

"I'll make you custom ones," he promised, as he positioned himself to press a kiss to one nipple. "With my symbol."

You whimpered with a nod. "Yes…"

You'd look so pretty being marked by him.

He wrapped his lips around the nipple, capturing and twirling the pendant with his tongue.

Too bad you hadn't been bred yet. He would have loved to taste your milk as you carried his child.

You pressed down on him, and the motion of your pussy dragging along his cock was enough to draw the first beads of precum.

He couldn't care less that he was about to get soaked in it, as he knew his body was only trying to prepare itself to be inside yours.

"Slowly… Miguel…" you pleaded in between moans, burying your hands in his hair. "Miguel…"

He could easily get addicted to you mumbling his name like that, but he did release the nipple, admiring how perky it looked.

Before he could have it in his mouth for a second round, you slipped off of him, settling on the floor and in between his legs.

He quickly spotted the damp spot along the outline of his cock from you grinding viciously on him.

"What is it?" he asked, unsure of what to do next.

A faint pout settled on your lips. "Can I… can you show me how to… do it?"

His eyes widened at the realisation of what you meant when your gaze landed on his crotch.

"Are you sure?"

You merely nodded, hands grasping at his waistband, gently pulling it down until his cock sprang free.

Immediately, you straightened yourself and shifted closer. He could feel your curious gaze on him, as strings of precum dripped from the tip.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering how long it would take for him to cum from this.

"Open your mouth," he breathed, and you immediately complied. "Just give it a few licks first."

You nodded and darted out your tongue to press it flat along the underside of his cock.

He immediately flinched, but still gripping it at the base to to push it towards you.

You pulled back with a pout. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It feels really good…"

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "What now?"

He inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from going over the edge too soon.

"Lick the tip…"

This time, you wrapped your fingers around him, and positioned yourself until your tongue grazed along the tip, collecting the thick droplets of precum.

He had to grip the cushions on his couch to steady himself, not wanting to accidentally shove his cock into your mouth.

You kept your eyes on him, working your tongue around the sensitive tip until he saw the strings of precum mixed with your saliva begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth.

He immediately pressed his eyes shut.

The visual stimulation would only make him reach his peak faster, and he wanted you to be able to take his cock in your mouth before he exploded.

You kept giving him quick licks, further edging him.

"You need to stop…" he groaned, his hips lifting from the couch. "Please…"

Once you did, he opened his eyes again only to be met by the thick and long strings of precum of either side of your chin to drip down to your breasts.

"Too much?" you asked shyly, swiping your tongue along your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You looked so fucking delicious.

But he needed more.

"Do you think you can fit it in your mouth now?"

You quickly nodded. "I think so."

Miguel knew he was not going to last long. "Go slowly…"

You didn't need to be told twice, and craned your neck before lowering yourself and sliding the tip past your lips.

His hips instantly bucked, further sliding in and nearly gagging you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, lovingly caressing your cheek.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was hard to do with his thick cock stuffing your mouth.

"Suck gently…" he said with a groan that quickly turned into a hiss once you began to suckle softly. "Just like that…"

You were so good for him…

He saw your eyes watering slightly as you took him even deeper. "Don't be greedy… you're doing just fine, sweet girl."

By this point, more beads of precum and saliva began to spill from the corners of your mouth, streaming down your face until they connected under your chin into a single strand that dangled further and further down.

Miguel felt his balls tighten lightly as a warning sign.

He was actually impressed with how long it was taking for him to reach an orgasm.

And that was when he decided he didn't want to cum just yet.

Slowly, he gripped your chin and slid off your mouth, earning a muffled protest from you until he was fully out, a string of precum bridging your lower lip to his tip.

"Miguel… why?"

You were pouting again and he nearly lost it.

"Come here," he asked, trying not to focus too much on how his body was throbbing for release.

You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand, but did as you were told, standing up.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded right away.

"I want you to lay on your back," he instructed with a sultry voice. "Then I want your legs over my shoulders."

You seemed to hesitate at first, but moved to sit on his thighs, as Miguel grabbed your hips to help you slide into his desired position. Your legs parted to rest on his shoulders and he effortless lifted your hips.

"Oh…" you drawled out as your dress slid up your thighs, until you were fully exposed to him.

Miguel almost groaned at the sight of your swollen clit peeking through your soaked folds.

"Tell me if it gets too much."

"Why would I-" your words did in your mouth the moment he dragged his tongue across your folds, tasting you for the first time.

He felt your hips jerk lightly under his touch, but he had decided to bring you over the edge with just his mouth.

So, naturally, Miguel began to eat you out.

His thirst for you was satiated with each flick of his tongue across your throbbing clit, yanking the most delicious gasps and whimpers from you.

He first let his tongue slide past your opening, as his nose pressed against your clit.

You choked on a sob as he went deeper. "Oh…oh my…"

Your wetness quickly began to coat his his lips and chin, as he continued to feast on your tast.

"Miguel… I… please…"

His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, and he slipped out of you only to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your hips bucked violently into him, and he had to still you with both hands, so he could properly suckle on it.

More wetness spilled from you, fueling Miguel's ego, as it was the best indicator that your body was yearning for him to breed you. He felt it pool in his tongue and eagerly swallowed as much as he could, feeling intoxicated with your taste.

He sucked a bit more fiercely and could tell you were close. So, so close.

Come for me, cariño…

You were mumbling his name with other incoherent words as you reached your peak.

As soon as he felt you tip over the edge, he let go of your clit and plunged his tongue inside, so he could feel your contracting rhythmically around him.

Your whimpers turned into loud grunts as your orgasm spread throughout your body like wildfire. Your legs began to shake and he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, pumping it in unison with each contraction.

His senses were completely flooded and it didn't take long for his balls to tighten and the first spurts of cum to gush from the tip.

As you descended from your bliss, Miguel entered his, leaning back against the backrest and groaning loudly as he rolled his own hips, desperately fucking his hand.

His fangs were fully on display as your wetness dripped from them while also running down his chin and neck.

By the time he was able to come to his senses again, you had slipped from his grasp, kneeling on the floor with your head pressed to his thigh, breathing erratically.

The two of you remained silent, as both struggled to even out your breaths.

His cum had landed on his shirt, seeping through the fabric and dribbling down his toned abdomen.

"Do you want to spend the night…" Miguel finally managed to find his words again, caressing your cheek approvingly.

You were panting heavily and could only nod.

Part 8

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

7K notes · View notes

allysunny · 6 months

Note

imagine miguel x fem!reader who absolutely LOVES disney, and she’s able to convince miguel to watch snow white and the seven dwarfs (1937) with her. At first miguel thinks it’s just a boring cartoon, but ends up enjoying it. More importantly, he enjoys watching it with you

Watching Snow White with Miguel O'Hara

Words: 2.1k words

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff! Miguel is very skeptical and a somewhat bore but he's OUR skeptical and a smowhat bore! Please do correct me on the spanish if it's incorrect! No beta, we die like Uncle Ben.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Here's another one of your requests! This one is short - I've been experimenting with that bullet point headcanon sort of format I told you guys about. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I loved writing this nevertheless! It had been a while since I had watched the movie, so I got to rewatch it and have a fun time :)

It's been a while since I've written for Miggy - please go easy on me!

I hope you all enjoy this!

You’d suggested watching Snow White after jokingly calling him “Grumpy”. He’d come home one day sulking because of some Spider Society affairs (apparently, he did not like the way that new Miles Morales kid handled thing – “too emotional”, he said), and you’d taken one good look at him and called him “Grumpy”. He clearly didn’t understand what you were referring to, so you thought it’d be a fun way for you to spend an afternoon.

Miguel didn’t get the appeal of animated movies. He thought they were for children and hadn’t watched many. They weren’t his style either – Miguel liked biopics, historical drama, not silly little animated musicals with talking animals and, in his humble opinion, “very impossible happy endings” – when you told him you believed in happy endings because you’d found yours with him, he blushed and turned away, pouting and mumbling something about “you clearly being the exception because you were special and perfect in every way”

One Saturday afternoon, you were feeling particularly lazy, so after cleaning the apartment with him, you decided to celebrate. It was time for a much-deserved rest. You prepared some popcorn, grabbed a few blankets (for yourself of course – Miguel thought you were an undiagnosed psychopath because of the number of blankets you loved to cuddle under), and sat on the couch.

When Miguel looked at you, he raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, noticing the popcorn on your lap.

“I think it’s about time you get schooled on the art of animation.” You smiled and patted the seat on the couch next to you.

Miguel made a soft “tch” sound but sat nevertheless, wrapping an arm around you, as he always did. He could be grumpy and pout all he wanted, but you had him wrapped around your finger.

“So, what are you making me watch, huh muñeca?”

“We’re watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,” you quickly searched for the movie on your TV, and grinned once the bright Disney logo shone.

“Really? A kid’s movie? That’s why you’re wasting my time?” Miguel quirked one eyebrow and crossed his arms.

You scoffed, clearly offended. Sure, you could see his muscles through the fabric of the shirt when he crossed his arms like that, but it was beside the point and you would not let it deter you.

“It’s not just a kid’s movie! In fact, it was the first ever animated movie! It was a trendsetter! This movie walked so all animated movies could run! It’s a landmark in cinema history, it’s - “

“Vale, vale,” Miguel interrupted you, “I get it. It’s a big deal. Very important. Can you just press play?”

And so, you did!

At first, Miguel didn’t get it. It was silly. The plot was silly. Very silly, actually. Why would a Queen be worried about not being the prettiest? It sounded like a very weak reason to hate someone. It’s not like this Snow White girl wanted to steal her throne or her kingdom. And why dress her in rags? Clothes wouldn’t be able to hide her physical appearance. Sure, they could make her look dirty and unkempt, but they wouldn’t necessarily make her ugly. And what’s the deal with that Magic Mirror anyway? How can it talk? Why is it magic? Does magic exist in this world? How? It’s not really established, it just sort of exists. And the animation – it wasn’t at all that good. It was rather rudimentary, and not at all like the great landmark you mentioned.

“Miguel, it’s a movie. Don’t think about it too much,” you’d mumbled when you saw his expression, the one he always had, with the furrowed brows and tightened lips, the one that signalled he was deep in thought. “Just go with it, okay?”

He did.

Once the Prince and Snow White shared their first duet, he was kind of sceptical, but after taking one good look at you and your content expression, he relaxed, holding you tighter. You curled into his side and smiled.

And to be honest, he started getting into it.

After the Queen made her request to have the Huntsman hunt down Snow White, he shook his head. “What a hateful woman,” he said. “Hunting down a poor innocent girl just because of her beauty. Maybe the reason she’s not ‘the fairest of them all’ is because she’s actually hideous on the inside”. You beamed at that. Miguel seemed to be getting in the spirit.

Once Snow White found out from the Huntsman about the Queen’s order and ran away into the forest, you could sense Miguel was nervous. The dark shadows and hidden figures that so scared the young Princess had him tense up. You nearly chuckled out loud. He was scared. “Everything alright, my love?” you asked him. “Pobrecita….” Was all he said, shaking his head.

When Snow White started singing and gathering the animals around her, Miguel snorted. You looked up at him, confused. What seemed to be so funny?

“That’s you,” he said, pointing at the screen.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s you, alright. Always surrounded by people, bringing them together. Everyone in Spider Society loves you. Watching you interact with those idiots is like watching this movie.” He looked at you and you melted before those chestnut eyes. Bringing your hand up, you pressed a soft kiss on his jaw and turned to the movie once again.

How sweet he was.

He could try all he wanted. He could be tall, bulky, mean, scary Miguel all he wanted at HQ – around you, he was as needy as a lost puppy.

“Pft – look at her! Breaking into a random house in the woods. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is how she got herself killed.” “Miguel, shhh –“ “It’s the truth! What if this is a trap set by the Queen, huh? Snow White is not as careful as she should be.” You chuckled at Miguel’s comments, most of them which funny rather than annoying. His scepticism and aloofness in life provided him with a different, more realistic view on the movies. You had to admit though – he was right. What if it was a trap?

“Hah – that’s us,” Miguel said as Snow White began to clean up the house. “Although I wouldn’t want a weasel cleaning my plates – is that deer licking them?!” “It’s a –“ “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘It’s a movie Miggy, don’t think too hard about it’. I know, I’ve heard it. I’m just stating a fact – it’s disgusting.” You hummed, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time you feel like licking me –“ “That’s different cariño, I just can’t help –“, “You’re not watching, Miguel!”

“That’s grumpy?!” Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. You laughed, shrugging your shoulders. “I think you look exactly like him. And look at his scowl!” Miguel shook his head and pouted, and while you should’ve stopped teasing him, you just couldn’t stop with the laughter. He looked exactly like the character, with his sulking expression and crossed arms. You had to pause the movie for a while because tears were streaming down your face. Miguel sulked even further, and only relaxed once you’d kissed him plenty and told him he was “a very handsome grumpy” and “the grumpy of your heart”.

“Tch, if I’m Grumpy, then you’re Dopey.” “WHAT?!”

It’s important to note it was only now that Miguel even realised you were clutching a bowl of popcorn, so he accused you of “hoarding” and placed in on his lap so the both of you could share. Or, well, share whatever was left of it.

You two watched the rest of the movie, Miguel still throwing in small quips about the characters here and there. He smiled as the dwarves danced with Snow White, foot actually tapping to the rhythm of the song. When Grumpy seemed to melt after the princess had kissed his head, he almost melted. “Maybe I am your Grumpy after all”, he said, to which you giggled and took a popcorn from the bowl.

As soon as the Evil Queen appeared once again, he scowled cursing her name in Spanish.

“Snow’s far too kind for her own good. Who’d take an apple from a stranger? The dwarves told her not to let anyone in. She’s far too trusting for her own good.” He mumbled, shoving handful of popcorn into his mouth (you’d had to go get a new pack). “Well, she’s kind and good. She saw someone in need and wanted to help. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” You replied. “Yes, but people take advantage of her. The Evil Queen is preying on her kindness. Qué pendeja…”

It was eerily quiet once Snow was inside the coffin, and the dwarves were mourning her loss. You tried to say something about it, but he quickly shushed you. The tables had turned – this was it; he was interested in the movie.

But that sadness did not last long. The Prince came along and kissed Snow White, waking her up. Of course, Miguel being Miguel, he made some sort of comment about how “how creepy it was he’d just kissed a corpse out of nowhere”, but there was a smile in his face when they rode off to his kingdom, so you paid it no mind.

After the movie had ended, you looked at him. It was hard to decipher what was going on inside that beautiful head of his, but you tried, nevertheless.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did you like it?”

Miguel stared at the television some more, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You’re telling me this was the first ever animated movie?” he asked, still looking at the screen.

“The very first.”

“I see. Well, the animation was quite rudimentary,” he began, “And the plot had some flaws. Snow was far too trusting.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Of course, it had all been in your head. Why would he have liked an animated movie? It wasn’t his style and all. He probably thought it was girly and stupid, and you’d just wasted his time.

You were beginning to utter an apology when he kept speaking.

“But it was fun. I liked it.” His eyes were soft, finally holding your gaze. Sure, the movie wasn’t particularly his type. He wasn’t a big fan of princesses, and there were far too many musical numbers for his taste. But he got to spend one whole afternoon with you in his arms, watching as you smiled and giggled and gushed over this movie that you clearly held so dear in your heart, and he would do it all again in a heartbeat, just for the privilege of seeing you happy.

And if that wasn’t love, then what was it?

“It reminded me of how selfless and kind you are.”

You blushed under his praise, and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Miguel brought his hand up and caressed your cheek absentmindedly.

“I’m serious, cariño. Sure, I may be Grumpy all you want, but you’re just as good and altruistic as she is.”

You looked up into his eyes, cheeks aflame and heart all fuzzy.

“You think so?”

Miguel smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“No, I’m joking. You’re Dopey.”

He laughed loudly and you huffed, throwing the now empty popcorn bowl aside to all but jump on him, attempting to tackle him doing and tickle him. He let you do whatever you wanted for a while, pretending you could compete with him, falling on the couch and feigning defeat. But he quickly got bored, and held both of your arms with one hand, flipping the two of you so you were laying on your back, and he hovered over you.

When he kissed your neck repeatedly, you laughed out loud, willing to surrender. Miguel knew all your secret spots – he nosed the one you were most ticklish in, and you yelped, feet kicking up. He merely smirked at this reaction and kept placing kiss after kiss after kiss on the column of your neck.

“As I was saying,” he said, matter-of-factly, lifting his head to kiss you gently on the lips. You were so beautiful; he wondered what the shock he must’ve done to have the privilege to be with such an amazing woman.

“I enjoyed our time together. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. ¿Mañana vemos otra?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

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sataniquepanique · 10 days

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The Fallout

Angel Dust x Platonic!Soulmate Reader

WC: 2k+

Summary: You wake up in Hell, struggling with your choices made back on Earth. A spider-demon manages to crack through your tough exterior.

Warnings: talk of suic!de and self-harm, mention of drugs.

A/N: I've had a rough few months, and the Hellaverse has become a little light in my life. Angel (almost immediately?) became a comfort character for me, and I just wanted to write about him. This might turn into an Alastor x Reader fix because I've grown to love that weird little dude, but that's still up in the air. Reader is a crow-demon in this btw, and I tried to write them GN.

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Sighing softly, you carefully run fingers through the set of wings protruding from your back. In this light, the inky-black was iridescent; a feature that almost brought a smile to your face. There’s no way you’d get used to this any time soon.

It’d been a little over two weeks since you arrived in hell, a few days since you had shown up on the doorstep of the dilapidated hotel on the outskirts of Pentagram City. You had known ending up in Hell was a possibility, one that wasn’t ideal but overall a thought that hadn’t deterred you. The deed was done, and you’d now have to deal with the consequences.

After roaming the streets for a few days, squatting in whatever abandoned building or sheltered alleyway you could find, a news segment caught your attention in the window of an electronics shop. The Hazbin Hotel: a place for sinners to be rehabilitated. The entire idea was ludicrous, but the overly-chipper blonde pitching the cause was adamant that they would provide accommodations for anyone interested, no questions asked.

So that’s how you ended up here, standing in front of the floor length mirror in your new bedroom, completely avoiding the presence of any of the other fellow inhabitants of the hotel.

Charlie (the even-more-cheery-in-person blonde from the TV) had tried to get you to join them in the lobby for the past few days for “exercises”, which basically included trust falls and other weird bonding techniques. You had ignored her pleas from beyond the other side of the bedroom door, pretending to be asleep.

It’s not that you didn’t belong here, you probably did, it’s the permanence of it that was becoming debilitating; the solitude of it all. You were alone here.

You missed your family.

You missed your friends.

The thought of their faces brought an onslaught of tears, obscuring the sight of your new demonic body in the mirror.

You had fucked up. You definitely deserved to be here.

After what you assumed was dinnertime, Charlie came back to your room and knocked softly.

“Hey!” She chimed gently from outside, “We’re all going to watch a movie in the lounge, figure I’d extend an invite! We’d love to have you—“

Another voice cut her off from down the hall, more stern but still with a gentle undertone. “Charlie, babe. Leave them alone, they just needs time to adjust.”

Vaggie. You had felt a weird draw to her the moment the hotel doors had opened. She had seemed to understand better than the rest about what you were feeling. She was one of the only people you had considered talking to.

Curling up on the bed, you begged sleep to consume you entirely.

———

The darkness was alive.

The void humming and vibrating with movement and emotions that you couldn’t grasp. Calling out, your voice wouldn’t ring true, only a choking gasp emitting from your throat. Crawling on all fours, you frantically felt through the blackness for something, anything to help. Your left hand landed in a wet puddle, fingers brought to your face for further inspection were only met with blindness. That’s when you heard it: the screaming.

Rising to your feet, you began to stumble through the abyss towards the sound of the guttural sobs, trying to scream back to whoever it was know that you were here. The voice was obscured, yet somehow familiar. A sudden obstacle had you tumbling back onto your knees. Unlike before, the darkness was beginning to fade, showing the outstretched limb that had tripped you. Following the arm upwards, you were met with your own vacant eyes, staring unseeingly toward the heavens.

Waking with a violent sob, you choked on every gasping breath. Dim red light filtered through the window, a mocking reminder of where you had ended up. This bedroom was beginning to suffocate you. Looking over at the clock on the bedside table, the witching hour assured you that everyone was fast asleep.

The hallway was silent as you crept on socked feet, destination unknown. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks played on a loop in your brain. You began to run, desperate to get to somewhere that you knew no longer existed; the screaming from the earlier dream becoming deafening. The sound of an opening door sent a wave of electric panic shooting through your veins. At the far end of the hall, an out-of-use dumbwaiter sat half rusted shut, but the opening was big enough to slide through. You ran as quietly as possible, squeezing through the cracked steel door. The metal contraption was oddly secure, though the space was tight. Bringing both knees to your chest, you took a deep breath. The shakiness of the exhale triggered another sob, followed by another, until the material of your pants was soaked by tears.

The metal door of the dumbwaiter groaned slightly, making you jump. A pair of wide mis-matched eyes gazed back; Angel. Charlie had introduced you both upon arrival, though the spider-demon had seemed too pre-occupied with his phone to actually give a shit about your presence.

“Oh shit—“ he was halfway into the dumbwaiter, recoiling slightly upon seeing your curled form, “Sorry toots, I uh…wasn’t expected anyone to be in here.”

You wiped both cheeks with a sleeve, “It’s okay, I should—“

“What’re you doing in here anyways?” Angel’s gaze swept over your face, “Sick of the luxurious suites we’re all so graciously given?”

You knew he was trying to make a joke, but the last thing you wanted to do was laugh, let alone with a complete stranger.

“I couldn’t be in that room anymore…I needed some air.”

“So you settled on a rusty metal box?” Angel cocked an eyebrow. You shrugged, avoiding his stare.

He sighed, and you heard the metal door groan again. Looking up, Angel was crawling his way into the dumbwaiter, settling in across from you.

“What’re you doing?” You pulled both knees closer to accommodate his long legs.

“Joinin’ ya.”

“I can see that, but why?”

Angel fished for something in the pocket of his blazer, “‘cause I’ve got nothin’ else better to do right now, and it looks like you could use some company. And who’s better company than yours truly?” He grinned devilishly, one gold fang glinting in the dim light.

You watched as he continued to dig in his pocket. “Why were you looking in here?”

Angel pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket, reaching up to unlatch a small compartment at the top of the dumbwaiter. “Oh, well you seem to have stumbled upon one of my many secret hiding spots.”

“And Charlie doesn’t mind you stashing drugs around the hotel?”

“This is Hell, dollface. No one cares what you do, as long as you play the game.” There was a bitterness in his voice, one that left as soon as it emerged, covered up by a sultry wink. “Besides, no one’s been able to find any of my hiding spots yet.”

You hummed noncommittally, falling into a companionable silence. For as cramped of a space as it was, it was he most comfortable you’d felt since arriving in the afterlife.

“So…” Angel examined his nails, “Are you going to tell me why you was cryin’ or…?”

Something about this fluffy pink demon soothed your soul, more than even Charlie Morningstar: Queen of Hospitality had been able to do. You found your expertly-built wall cracking.

“I just…I fucked up.”

“We’ve all fucked up, toots. How else d’ya think we ended up here?”

You shot him a glare just to find Angel smirking back.

“I mean I fucked up by leaving everyone. My friends, my family. Now they’re stuck cleaning up my mess.”

Angel cocked his head to the side, a tendril of white hair falling over an eye, “Got yourself into a li’l trouble? Been there—”

“I ended it. It all got to be too much: life, working a dead-end job, and the constant pressure to put on a composed persona, so I ended it myself.”

You felt his body go rigid against your leg.

“Oh…shit.” Angel whispered, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah…shit.” The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes, both unsure of what to say. You shifted slightly and sighed, “I dreamt of it earlier tonight, the aftermath of it all. I saw my body, I heard—“ You swallowed audibly, “—I heard my mother’s screaming.”

Angel was watching intently as you looked up, “I miss them. More than anything.”

His leg brushed against yours as Angel scooted towards the opening into the hallway, sliding his lithe body through the gap in the door. Your heart sank a little. Of course you had scared away the one person you were just beginning to feel comfortable with in this god-forsaken place. The burn of fresh tears pricked behind your eyes, until you saw Angel peering through the opening again.

“You comin’ or what?”

You wiped a hand over your cheek, “To where?”

“Just trust me, I’ve got somethin’ to show you,” Angel held a hand out to help you slide through into the dark hallway.

———

The door at the end of the corridor was covered in small polaroids and pink lights. The most personality you had seen since arriving in Hell.

“Is this your room?” You felt stupid the moment it came out of your mouth.

Angel smirked as he shouldered the door open, “What gave it away?”

The interior of his bedroom was bathed in neon pink light. Clothes in various fabrics and colors were strewn about, while a bed with numerous overly-plush pillows sat pushed against one of the far corners. There was life in here. There was personality and a sense of belonging.

A loud squeal emanated from somewhere beneath the bed, startling you out of the mental tour of Angel’s room. A soft nudge of something against your ankle had you staring back at a tiny demon-pig, it’s little beady black eyes blinking curiously up at you.

“Oh my god…” you breathed.

Angel reached to pick up the little pig, “Sorry about him—“

You were on the floor quicker than he could move, holding out both hands to let the little creature get used to your scent. The piglet snorted softly as it trailed sniffs up your palms, the feeling making you giggle slightly. Your laughter caused him to cease the exploration and instead launch into your lap, nuzzling against your body.

“He reminds me of my dog from home,” you looked up at Angel while stroking the velvet ear of the little pig.

“I’ve never seen Fat Nuggets take to someone so quickly before,” he smiled, walking towards the bed, “C’mere, this is what I wanted to show you.”

You rose from the floor still clutching Fat Nuggets, who was now beginning to fall back asleep. Joining Angel near the headboard, you followed his gaze to the smattering of polaroids adhered to the wall behind the bed. Dozens of photos of himself with various people, some of which you recognized from the hotel, all of them smiling or laughing.

“I fucked up too.” Angel’s voice was low, the undertone of sadness unmistakable, “In the living world, I spent years alone in a miserable existence of my own making,” He took a glance down at you, “So I know exactly what you were feeling back on Earth…trust me.”

You leaned closer to him, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat.

“These people,” He motioned towards the photos, “They didn’t give a shit who I was, or where I came from, or what baggage I had. They accepted me, the real me, and became more of a family than I could ever ask for.” He turned to you fully, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, the other petting Fat Nuggets snoring body. “I know they’d do the same for you, you just gotta give them a chance.”

The tears came freely now, and against all better judgement you stepped closer to lean against Angels chest, careful not to squish the sleeping pig in your arms. Four slender arms embraced you, and for the first time since you’d arrived in Hell, you could breathe.

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fic #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust x platonic!reader #angel dust x gn reader #angel dust fic #angel dust fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust

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lilozzzyo3569 · 2 months

Text

Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader

Summary: You just started your new job working for the spider society and meet you boss....... Warnings: I do not own Miguel O'Hara (IF ONLY I DID), MDNI, Miguel O'Hara being low key obsessive and possessive, but more love spring and less call the cops crazy, you are super smart and created your trans dimensional device by yourself- GO YOU!

You were beyond excited, nervous but still excited. Ever since you were sitting in your apartment alone tinkering with a device that would allow your to explore different dimensions, you were just about to power it up when a small little digital brunette popped up and said "Oh good I got to you before you powered up your trans dimensional device, I am going to need you to come with me ASAP if you don't mind" you were certain that you had turned on your device, electrocuted yourself and were now passed out so you of course said "can I bring my pizza?"

Fast forward to now you are walking through the spider society building with Lyla chatting your ear off explaining everything as she directed you to your office, while you held a large box with all of your equipment in your arms. Lyla then told that you needed to met the head of the spider society "the head spider?" you asked making Lyla chuckle, or is it "Mr. Spider?" Lyla stopped floating ahead of you to hunch over laughing and responded "yes, please call him that to show respect" you nodded as she pointed down the hall to a large door and said "just go through that door I gotta go make sure your office is ready for you." You walked to the door and barely managed to get the door open when a VERY large man lunged at you roaring "WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE" his voice boomed making you scream as you dropped the box and fell against the door as you stuttered "Ly-Lyla hire- me I smart- I -I-I please don't kill me Mr. Spider Lyla will be so mad" this did little to deter the very large although he was slightly confused as to why you called him Mr. Spider. But luckily for you Lyla appeared and scolded Miguel "WTF do you think you are doing to my new tech?" Lyla wagged her digital little finger at Miguel making him back off and argue with her "Since when do you hire without talking to me, I look up and someone is walking into my office, what did you expect" Lyla gave him a pointed look before he sighs and says "I'm sorry new tech that Lyla hired without talking to me" Miguel's heart immediately breaks though looking at you, now on the floor with tears in your eyes looking terrified, biting your lip, he reaches to help you up and feels how soft your little hand feels in his as you try to smile at his help. Once you are standing your turn around and start to gather your things. Miguel's breath catches in his throat at seeing you now bent over giving a truly breath taking view, you are completely oblivious when you hear him deeply inhale. You turn around after gathering your box asking "are you okay Mr. Spider?" Miguel wants to bash his head into his desk. He looks down at you biting your lip and looking up at him with genuine concern in your beautiful eyes, after he was he asshole who yelled at you. All he can think is, how is this perfect little angel even real. He looks confused looking at you "did you just call me Mr. Spider?" You tilt your head to the side saying, "Lyla said-" you are cut off with Lyla laughing and Miguel sighing deep and saying "you can just call me Spiderman," you nod embarrassed slightly blushing before Lyla telling you to follow her to your office before Miguel faints at how adorable you are.

You are working in your office with your headphones fixing some coding for Lyla unaware of the large man that keeps walking by your office inhaling your scent from outside your door. Miguel doesn't understand how he even got over here, he just couldn't stop thinking about you, your scent, your smile, your body, all the things he would kill just to be able to touch you again, hold you, ANYTHING. He still doesn't understand how he got so obsessed with you so quickly, maybe it was your scent, your scent was sweet like sugary fruity floral heaven, maybe it was because you were from a different dimension. He just knew that he needed to be closer to you.

So come lunch time he knocked on your office door, "it's open, is that you Peter?" you turned around to see your very large boss holding a small pile of empanadas. "I hope you like empanadas, I wanted to come and apologize for earlier." You smile at the food and offer for him to sit , you start to eat the empanadas as he takes off his mask showing you his face for the first time and smiles gently at you as he comments "I like your office" you smile brightly at him "thank you Lyla set it all up for me after I told her what I wanted." you lick you lips after finishing your empanada making Miguel slightly roll his eyes before saying "I am sorry for earlier, I didn't mean to scare you, I am really not a bad guy I was just- you just- ugh I am sorry" he holds his head down so you scoot closer to him and tentatively put your hands on his lap and say "I understand, I am actually happy to know you don't hate me" his head snaps up and looks into your eyes and says "I could never hate you!" you are taken aback a bit at how quickly he said that, you giggle cutely and OH GOD if that wasn't the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, his heart melted and if he wasn't sitting down he might've dropped to his knees from shock. Miguel looked into your eyes, "What dimension are you from?" you smile and tell him "Earth-71, Lyla teleported to me when I was working on my own trans dimensional device."

You spent your entire lunch break with Miguel in your office asking you endless questions about your dimension and your life. He seemed extremely fascinated in you and your life. You lunch break was almost over when he build up the courage to ask you, "um considering you just got to the dimension maybe I could take you out and show you around some time" you smile confused before saying "um sure okay, I am going out with Hobie, Gwen, Miles, Peter and Pavitr this weekend. Lyla introduced us when I first got to this dimension. They're all super cool." Miguel gritted his teeth and said "yeah they are very cool *sarcastically* but we can go out tonight, I'll pick you up at 7" he has said before smiling and leaving your office to go back to his office and think about how to keep you away from anyone that isn't him because you are clearly made for him and he is already in love *obsessed* with you

This didn't necessarily go where I thought but I am cool with it, I just really wanted to play around with some Miguel O'Hara being immediately sprung over you and wanting you all to himself

#miguel o'hara #astv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse

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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - a new leaf part one

Masterlist - part four

Summary: Kayla learns the way of the Omatikaya and gets to know a bit about her brother's family.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

Taglist: @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: I both hate and love my fic's title. Every time I read it, I accidentally read it in my head as 'tiramisu' XD

When Kayla emerged from the Longhouse the next morning, Jake greeted her with a beaming, knowing smile. She did her best to glare at him, slightly defeated that he had convinced her to come back, but he wasn't deterred. He smiled genuinely, even when she shoved at him to get out of her space.

"Wow. Still not a morning person, huh?" He grinned.

"Get fucked." She hissed, a bit of a sore loser that way.

"Yikes. Still got a mouth, too," he laughs, genuinely surprised by the foul word. To be honest, he hasn't heard language like that in a while. It felt nice to get a small bit of that human culture back, even for a minute. With Kayla still used to that military lifestyle, Jake has a small part of his old routine pop back into him. "Could you do me a favor and maybe refrain from mouthing off in front of my kids? Neytiri would definitely blame me if she ever heard Tuk say 'shit' in her sweet voice."

Kayla snorts at the image of that playing in her head, "Sure. No problem."

"Kayla! Jake!" Norm, still in human form, waved over to them. The siblings walk in his direction while Jake looks around, sighting a group of Na'vi calling out to each other and getting ready to leave.

He taps Kayla's arm, "Hey, I have to be on this morning hunt. Norm will show you around and give you a better tour of the place. If he gives you a hard time, let me know."

"Copy that," she replied automatically, barely looking in Jake's direction before he gives up saying anything more and left, knowing when she was being dismissive. Kayla pushes on and meets Norm where he stood waiting, hands on his hips again as he watches Jake head in the opposite direction.

"Of course, he gets to go on the hunt and fool around while we do all the hard work," Norm playfully rolls his eyes, trying to lighten the mood, "That's Toruk Makto for ya."

"Huh?"

Norm peers up at Kayla oddly before a thought dawns on his face and he scowls to himself, "Right. Need to catch ya up to speed. We can do that while we work today. First I need to get into my avatar suit. Let's go."

He leads her back in the direction of the biolab, but they don't get far before Kayla is suddenly tackled into a tiny hug around her waist. The woman nearly falls back in shock, frozen about what to do when she looked down and recognized Jake's youngest kid beaming up at her with her thin, blue arms still wrapped around the taller woman's waist.

"My dad said that you're my auntie!" Tuk exclaimed.

Kayla is still taken aback by the child hugging her before she could even register Tuk was speaking in Na'vi, not English. She was too amazed by the little one who is barely shorter than Norm in his human form. Kayla could only imagine how short she would be standing next to Tuk if she met the little girl in her own human body. Still not realizing that she needed to form a response, Norm smiles and takes pity on Kayla, stepping into her view, "She says that you're her aunt."

Blinking, Kayla comes back to reality and tries offering Tuk a pitiful smile and a gentle pat on her shoulder, "I suppose I am."

Norm repeated her phrase in Na'vi, and Tuk squeals excitedly in response, "I've never had an auntie before!"

"Tuk, for the time being, maybe you should talk to Kayla in English until she gets the hang of Na'vi," Norm gently explains to the girl while barely nudging her with his elbow. He winks when she meets his eyes underneath his mask, "She's barely understood 'nari' yet."

Tuk laughs while Norm looks around, "Why don't you go play with Popiti? You'll see Kayla at dinner."

"Will she sit with me?"

Norm chuckles before glancing back up at Kayla, who had remained quiet during the whole exchange especially since she couldn't understand half of it, "She's asking if you will sit with her at dinner."

A small warmth bleeds through to Kayla's heart as the little girl stared up at her with the cutest, roundish yellow eyes she had ever seen. Not even the cat she had back at home had a face that could stop wars in their tracks. Tuk continues to plead with her eyes before Kayla finally relents, her posture melting while addressing Norm, "Only if you sit with me so I'll be able to talk to her. I want to ask about her songcord."

Norm repeated what Kayla said, but he didn't have to. Tuk caught onto enough of it as she squeals in happiness again, squeezing Kayla's waist one more time before she runs off. Kayla stood still in the place where the girl left her before turning back to Norm, "Did I say the right thing?"

Norm's smile is full of pride, "Sure did."

She feels a little lighter after that, gladly waiting outside the biolab while Norm hops into a link bay. Kayla watches the People around her, going about their day with her new, sharp eyes, observing how they walk, talk, and even blink. It was interesting to watch how they all converse with one another, spotting a few exchange 'good mornings' by placing their fingers on their forehead and lowering their hands in the direction of the person they were speaking to. Kayla tags that bit of information and stores it in the back of her mind for the time being as she heard footsteps approaching her so she turns around, being met with another avatar.

"Ah," He's definitely Norm with that unique tone of voice and that familiar grin. He stood taller than Kayla and he even draws attention to that when he compares their height by measuring with his hand. He flashes a cheeky smile, "That's better."

Kayla scoffs, rolling her eyes even when she felt her lips twitch, "Dick."

"Right this way, Short Stack," Norm continues to laugh while holding his arm out in the direction he wants her to go, "I wanna get the fun stuff out of the way."

The first place on their to-do list was the rookery. Norm takes her to the edge of camp, out to the edge of the mouth cave before looking back, "You a heights person?"

"That depends," Kayla began without looking over the ledge, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the avatar in front of her, "What's below us right now?"

"Nothing that can catch you."

"Then no, I'm not."

"I don't mean to be blunt. But we're Mountain People now. If you wanna stay here, you'll have to get over it quickly. You could climb down from the vegetation acting as bridges if you want. But the only real way to get on and off these particular mountains is by ikran."

He beckons her forward and demonstrates shuffling his feet to test the rock with his weight, then clings to the side of the mountain as he walks along a narrow ledge going around the outside of the rock face. Sucking in a sharp breath, Kayla looks down at her feet as she shuffles forward, trying her best not to look down while figuring out where she was stepping. While Norm kept his back to the wall, Kayla practically hugged it to her front, hands grasping tightly onto whatever part of the rock she could hold onto.

They shuffle far from High Camp and toward the outskirts of the mountain. As they get closer to their destination, Kayla hears the echoing screeches from the day before, along with the loud and heavy flapping of wings. She only clings harder to the edge of the mountain. Norm rounds a corner and disappears behind a waterfall while Kayla tries her best to keep up without quickening her pace. She squeezes behind the waterfall and signs in relief when she finds Norm standing on a more sturdy platform, carved into the mountain deep enough to be far from the cliff edge. The male avatar smiles and nods in approval before pointing in the direction opposite the waterfall, "Welcome to the rookery."

Kayla peers through the water and gapes. Large cliff sides jut out of the mountain, creating large nests full of the flying creatures she encountered yesterday. From where she stood, she can only see a few dozen of them, all of different sizes and colors.

"And these are Mountain Banshees. Or as the Na'vi call them... ikran."

"Wow." She exclaimed, awestruck.

"These are the rogues," Norm explains, "The ones without riders. For now, we'll stay away from them. Follow me. The claimed ones are below us."

Kayla spun to Norm, tilting her head in bewilderment before Norm walks close to the edge again, the only thing between him and falling was the waterfall. Peering over the edge, Norm takes a small leap down and quickly catches himself by the ledge, holding his whole weight up by his fingers. Kayla had nearly gasped out of fright but bit the sound back when Norm clearly appeared to know what he was doing. Using the momentum, he swung himself down and calls up to his student, "You coming or what?"

Kneeling down and clinging onto the cliffside for dear life, she peered down over the ledge and noticed a cave mouth underneath the platform she stood on, with Norm waiting for her at the entrance. Not as confident as him, she doesn't jump down, instead, she slowly folds herself over the ledge and carefully dangles from the side before finally dropping down, only remembering to breathe once she felt solid rock under her two feet. Norm pats her on the back in sympathy before walking into the large cave mouth. Kayla follows and notices that the cave wasn't dark at all, daylight clearly lighting their way, but from where she wasn't sure. As they trudge further in, she could hear more calls and squawks, staying close behind Norm until they walk right into a clearing.

At the center of the cave was another large nest full of ikran with a large hole acting as an exit for these creatures high above them, lighting the whole place up like a skylight. These particular ikran had riding gear comfortably secured on each of their backs, varying different shapes and colors depending on the ikran and their rider's taste in style. Although tamer, the banshees still hissed and snapped their jaws as Norm walked by, who had turned around to beckon Kayla to follow.

"Stick close. Careful not to look in their eyes."

"Got it."

He brings her over to a small group of ikran who chose to huddle close and nest together like their own little family. Dark navy blue, and teal lightning stripes flash in Kayla's vision and she immediately crouches down in fear as Norm calls out to the beautiful blur. An ikran is towering over him in size as it answers to its rider, squawking in feigned defiance. Up close, Kayla could see two pairs of eyes, one smaller than the other, and rows of obsidian-like razor teeth. Norm grinned and happily fed it a raw piece of meat from his cargo shorts' pocket before turning to introduce him, "This one's mine. This is August."

Kayla catches her breath, laughing nervously as she stood back up on her unstable legs, "Cute."

Norm chuckles and pats the beast's neck before pointing over to another banshee off to the side. It was a lighter blue almost teal color for the whole body with purple and splatters of darker blue stripes to make up for the rest of it, "That one's Jake's. He calls him Bob."

She scoffed, "Poor thing."

"You can have one of these too, ya know."

"Really?"

"Sure, if you wanna learn the Na'vi way and eventually become one of us," Norm beamed like a little kid explaining his favorite game, "To become taronyu. Hunter. "

"Oh, yeah? And when can I get my own ikran?"

"When you're ready," Norm gives August one more loving pat on the neck before breaking away, showing Kayla the way back to the cave entrance, "First, you gotta learn the language and get a better grasp of it. Then, you gotta train and learn how to hunt, and only when you make a clean first kill will you be allowed to try and claim a banshee. After that, you must successfully survive Uniltaron, the Dream Hunt. These are the steps every young Na'vi must take before they can complete their Iknimaya and officially be seen as an adult in their clan."

Kayla nods accordingly, still confused about some of the words regardless of Norm explaining them, "How many clans are there?"

"Several. Too many to name off on my fingers, and I've only ever met a few," they make it back to the cave entrance, and Norm steps aside to allow Kayla to climb back up first, "They stretch through the forests, mountains, and even oceans. Around here you'll only see the Omatikaya, obviously, occasionally the Tayrangi, and what's left of the Olangi."

"What's left of them?" Kayla echoes while up and grasping the ledge then skillfully pulling herself up, mindful of the drop below and the waterfall.

"They were mostly wiped out in the battle against the RDA, the one where we drove them off-world. What was left of the Olangi was too small to be considered their own clan, so they integrated into ours. Our clan is technically called the Blue Flute Clan if you wanna get specific."

Norm climbs up next with only a little bit of difficulty. Kayla offered her hand to him and wordlessly helped pull him up when he grasped on. Norm sighs out of exhaustion once he stands back up, grinning a little slyly, "You ready to make the trek back?"

Kayla's nose crinkles up, eyes narrowed with hesitance as she thinks back to the narrow pathways and hugging the wall of the mountain, "... How about you keep answering my questions and maybe I'll forget about it."

~~~~~~~~~

It's like a little kid learning that there's a whole new world out there. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and in Kayla's case, it was. She had several teachers to choose from and several different subjects to learn from each one.

Starting with the language, Kayla was once sitting in a circle with multiple teachers around her, each of them bouncing off the other to try to get her to grasp each word. It was difficult at times, especially when they each start messing around and having fun when they were supposed to teach her. Norm and Spider normally mess around if they teach Kayla together, but otherwise, when separate, Kayla is able to learn more words if she's learning one-on-one with either the scientist or the teenager. Other times the lessons are more tamed if either Neteyam, Jake, or Neytiri teach her. Sometimes, all three do so together and Kayla was faintly starting to enjoy those small get-togethers. While learning their language, she was beginning to know her brother's family, especially his wife and their firstborn. Neteyam is strong, kind, and caring. He's definitely older brother material, reminding Kayla of Tommy, but not like she could admit that, and least of all to Jake.

Everyone keeps telling her that it'll take a while to grasp the language. Jake admitted that he struggled, and Norm explained that he had been studying Na'vi culture for five years prior to reaching Pandora. With their reassurances, Kayla tried not to beat herself up when she still couldn't hold a basic conversation with Little Tuk. She still can't do sentences, but Kayla has grasped basic words that were more important, like saying 'hello', 'thank you', and 'goodbye'. She learned numbers and proper pronunciation, nouns and adjectives, and plants and animals. Once she had grasped how to say and identify the flora and fauna, Neytiri deemed her ready to start hunting.

In order to hunt, Kayla needed to learn to catch up. Jake and Neytiri take her down to the forest floor and run. They run for ages, and after each run, Kayla's legs grow sore overnight then begin to loosen and strengthen the next day. Before long, she had been able to catch up to her teachers when they run along gigantic tree branches and dance gracefully through vines. She had learned to stop looking down and start looking ahead, never thinking about the fall since Neytiri showed her how to break a fall should she slip. Hunting with a bow and poison-tipped arrows had been proven difficult for Kayla, so used to knowing the ways around a gun. Jake gave her advice from one Sky Person to another, but essentially left Neytiri to do the teaching.

"Be on your guard," Jake flashed his sister a grin, "Neytiri is the kind of teacher who's all about 'learning fast or die.'"

"I am not." Neytiri denies adamantly, flicking her husband's ear as he laughed at her defiance.

Kayla greatly admired Neytiri for her teaching skills. If it got Jake into shape, then she knew it would be no problem to do the same. Neytiri teaches her sister-in-law how to track and how to ride direhorses, going back to the days when she used to teach the same to Jake and even her children.

Weaving is not a talent Kayla possessed back on Earth, but it was a skill she was being forced to learn here on Pandora. Mo'at, Tuk, and Kiri were her teachers on the subject, always dragging her into the marui meant for this kind of work. This canopy tent was larger than most, and mostly because it had to house an overly large and eccentric loom shuttle meant for this kind of craftsmanship. While teaching her how to weave, Kiri and Tuk would sing weaving songs meant for this kind of work, while their grandmother fondly listened and would accordingly praise them when finished. Mo'at was the tsahik, as Kayla learned, who was hesitant to accept the new avatar, if not defiant. There was clearly a dark past looming behind her aging eyes, but Kayla didn't dare push for an explanation. The older Na'vi woman explained Eywa to Kayla, as it was technically her area of expertise as the spiritual leader of the clan. Mo'at told stories to Kayla as they weave, explaining legends and moments of history that all connect back to the Great Mother. Mo'at talked about how everything was connected here on Pandora, from the trees to the mountains. From plants to animals and animals to Na'vi. The Na'vi only take what they need and understand how they must give it all back to Eywa in time.

Norm and Max explain all this through a more scientific perspective. They explain to Kayla how everything is rooted beneath their feet, connected together in one large network that fits the size of the whole moon they stood on. It was fascinating, to say the least, learning about how everything works together and even being shown proof when Max takes her on a walk through all their botanical samples and gardens. Kayla was able to grasp the information better when she listened to her fellow avatars and humans, but even when Mo'at spoke to her of Eywa, Kayla was still in awe. She felt as though she was back at home, being tucked into bed with stories of faraway, fantastical places under the soft glow of her nightlight. The only difference now is Kayla is grown, wearing blue skin she was beginning to adjust to comfortably, and listening to an elder woman speak of her deity under bioluminescent glow-worm lamps. And that was not even the most interesting part of Mo'at.

The tsahik taught Kayla how to heal and even make certain healing properties with just the plants and animals around them. Neytiri and Kiri would also partake in these lessons, having past knowledge of healing passed down to them from Mo'at. Neytiri had formally introduced Kayla to Mo'at as her mother, and eventually, Kayla began to form a family tree in her head once learning of their family history. While learning how to heal, Kayla heard small mentions of the sister and father Neytiri had lost, but not much else. Neither she nor Mo'at offered to explain or talk about their past loved ones, at least not to Kayla. When she went to her brother for answers, Jake's ears lowered. Even in a Na'vi form, he had a look of guilt that even Kayla could easily pinpoint from experience.

"I wouldn't try pushing Mo'at," he answered instead, eyes darting wildly around at everything other than Kayla when speaking about his mother-in-law, "She's a dragon lady when she wants to be."

Kayla left that conversation alone, knowing there was a story behind that but one that she wouldn't learn anytime soon. So she instead learned to just enjoy these lessons in order to get to know Neytiri, Kiri, and Tuk better. With these lessons, Kayla began to start understanding Na'vi as the girls in Jake's life tend to bounce between languages without even realizing it. It frustrated Kayla at first but over time it actually helped her grasp words faster. Slowly, she learned little things about her nieces and their mother, like how Tuk's knife was made from suggestions given to her by her best friend, Popiti. Or Kiri, whose woven top was inspired by the Eye of Eywa, and her necklace was something her birth mother once wore.

Kiri is a strange but delightful teenage girl. There are days when she enjoys company and days when she would prefer to work alone or in silence. Kayla understood that a little bit, appreciating that even at such a young age, Kiri realizes when her social battery is drained and needs a break. She gives her mother attitude but is an angel to everyone else, a behavior that all teenage girls must be able to inherit even between universal species. Kayla never related to someone so well.

A small fib she told herself even after meeting Lo'ak. He was adamant about teaching Kayla things, too, not wanting to be left out while all his other family members get to teach his aunt new skills in their culture. Lo'ak, overconfident, stubborn, and reckless, definitely reminds Kayla of Jake the most out of all the kids both physically and mentally, but again, she doesn't say so out loud. Lo'ak takes charge of teaching her to bead together clothing and other adornments the Na'vi proudly wear, even dragging Spider along for these lessons, despite how the human boy didn't appear thrilled to do so.

"Dude, this is so boring," Spider would groan, "We should take her exploring instead!"

"My parents already do that," Lo'ak scolded the shorter boy in front of Kayla as they worked on a bracelet for her, "And practically everyone else is teaching her how to speak, hunt, and heal. I wanna teach her something, too!"

"Well, yeah, but can't you just teach her something only you know?"

"That's a good idea," Kayla helpfully pitched in, trying to play peacemaker between the restless boys, "What are you good at, Lo'ak?"

When she's met with silence, Spider unhelpfully laughs, "Getting into places he shouldn't."

Lo'ak hissed and lightly hit Spider upside the head, earning a laugh from Kayla. Lo'ak's mood shifts a little, defeated and under the weather. Kayla took pity on the boy while pointing out, "You know... I have never been good at making bracelets at home. So I know one thing you're good at, and it's teaching."

His ears perk up, eyes brightening just the tiniest bit. Lo'ak tries fighting back a smile, and he's successful, especially when Spider continues to tease him, "Yeah, well he should probably try getting better at learning before he proudly decides he's better at teaching first."

She smiles in sympathy, "Not a good listener, huh?"

"The worst."

Lo'ak ducked his head, muttering under his breath, "Thanks, cuz. Way to make a guy feel special."

"You would make a great teacher," Spider encouraged his friend with a bright smile, "For example, you should teach Kayla what to expect when she finally starts her Iknimaya."

"That's a good idea." Kayla nods.

"No, it's not," Lo'ak states lowly.

"Why not?"

"Because he can only teach you what not to do, given that he failed the first time." Spider chuckled.

"Dude!"

Kayla sighed, mostly out of the headache that was beginning in the form of two teenage boys, "Alright, Spider, give it a rest."

Spider's jaw clamps shut, eyes widen briefly before shrinking his shoulders in a little under Kayla's stare. Shaking her head at him, she darts her eyes back at the Na'vi boy in question before speaking slowly, "... You know, Lo'ak. We have a saying where your dad and I are from. 'If at first, you don't succeed, try and try again.'"

Lo'ak peers up, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Apparently, he doesn't hear about a whole lot of stuff from Jake's past let alone Earth. Kayla flashes him an encouraging smile, "There's no shame in getting it wrong the first time. You end up learning better than others when you learn from your mistakes."

Lo'ak watches her carefully as if trying to figure out a puzzle, his tail waving leisurely behind him. For a moment, the three are quiet until a teasing glint sparkles in Lo'ak's eye and he cruelly laughs, "Woah, where did you pull that wisdom out of?"

Kayla's expression screws up, offended, chucking the remnants of her bracelet at him when he continues to laugh. She scowls when the motion only drove him to laugh harder, "Okay, smartass, see if I ever come to your aid again."

The word slips out and Kayla is horrified when the boys catch onto what she said, their grins forming even as she tries to backtrack, "Oh, crap. You know what? Forget I said that. Your dad doesn't want me swearing in front of you kids."

"Not me though, right?" Spider asked, shrugging when she sent him an apologetic look, "No sweat. If you want, I can always teach you how to swear in Na'vi?"

Unbeknownst to the three, Jake was watching their interaction from afar, unable to hear what his sister was saying but felt amused when she got both Lo'ak and Spider to laugh at whatever she said. Norm taps his shoulder and it pulls Jake out of the fog, remembering he was in the middle of talking to his old friend before he caught sight of his son and his sister with Spider. Glancing back at Norm, Jake tilted his head in Kayla's direction, "Sorry. How 'she doing by the way?"

"Great, actually," Norm followed his gaze, observing Kayla's interaction with the teenage boys, "She retains information really well. She remembers the smallest of details, even details that don't matter."

Jake nods in approval, a knowing look in his faraway eyes while watching Kayla retrieve her bracelet from Lo'ak and continue adding on pieces, "I remember that about her. Normally, she retains information that she's excited to learn. Otherwise, it goes in one ear and out the other, like math. I remember Tommy having to sit her down to help with her homework late at night when our folks were too tired to do so."

"Hm," Norm makes a mental image of that particular scene in his head, nudging Jake's arm, "You don't talk about your siblings enough. Maybe you should."

Jake's jaw tightens, blinking whatever haunted thoughts were swirling around in his head, and stiffly nods without ever looking away from his sister, "Yeah."

~~~~~~~~~

There was so much information to latch onto to the point Kayla wasn't sure if she'd be able to pick whatever parts of Na'vi culture were her favorite. As days turn to weeks, she quickly realizes that she hasn't even learned half of the Omatikaya lifestyle as she finds herself being pulled into a hunting ceremony. A great sturmbeest was killed that day and the People were preparing for a large feast filled with song and dance. Kiri quickly taught Kayla the hunting songs that are sung during these ceremonies and urged her aunt to sing along when the time comes. It was difficult to admit that Kayla felt nervous at the idea. She hadn't sung out loud in a long time, and she personally didn't feel as though she was the best singer.

Neytiri had rolled her eyes when Kayla had shyly admitted this to her, "All Na'vi people sing, whether or not they are any good."

"Besides," Jake cuts in with a fox-like grin, "All you need is a bit of liquid courage and you'll be singing and dancing without a care in the world."

Thus how Kayla was first introduced to swoa, taken aback by how strong the intoxicating beverage was. Jake had laughed at her initial reaction to screw her nose up and squint her eyes, but afterward, the following sips were easy to manage. It was safe to say she liked it.

Her first ceremony went beautifully as she danced to her heart's content, mainly with the kids as they were eager to show her their moves. The next party was a tribute to Eywa, and even Kayla could admit that ceremony was a little less fun. Seeing Vitraya Ramunong, the Tree of Souls for the first time took her breath away, in awe of the most beautiful tree she had ever seen in her life. But instead of dancing and playing music around such a magnificent tree, the People sat together, their kuru braids either bonded to the roots of the tree or to the tendrils hanging down from the branches. They either sang or prayed, and Kayla found it difficult to sort out which was which. She still feels awkward praying to Eywa, despite her eagerness to learn all about the Great Mother. Jake didn't blame her for it, sympathizing by saying he still struggled even to this day. Neytiri never took either of their discomforts to heart, understanding that unlearning the mindset you have known your whole life takes a toll when wishing to learn something new.

Months go by, and Kayla finds herself attending all sorts of ceremonies. Some celebrate birth, love, and life, while others memorialized death and revival. When first taught how the Na'vi believe that every soul is born twice, Kayla showed inklings of doubt, but Jake made it his personal mission for his sister to see those teachings through his eyes, "I've seen it firsthand. Do you remember back home, when things come in three's it could either mean something good or bad, depending on who you ask? Same rules apply here. For the most part, everything comes in two here. Two like the avatar and the driver, or me and Tommy. Two like Grace and Kiri, and me and Neytiri. Two like my two boys and two girls. For you, it'll come in two as well. The Na'vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when you earn your place among the People, forever. You'll be born again when you finish your Iknimaya."

He said it with such confidence, that anyone would believe him as the leader he is, but not Kayla. In reaction to his confidence in her, Kayla only felt dread. Conflicted emotions were constantly running through her mind. While she is running around among the Na'vi out here, she was still waking up among the Sky People back at Bridgehead. She still reported to Ardmore and the lab coats who monitor her links' progress. Even as she lies as easily as she breathes, Kayla feels the shame and regret of still having to return and lie about her whereabouts to her superiors. She had grown to hate waking up with flashlights in her face and needles in her arm, waking up to a million questions and the beeping of her heart monitor among other machines. The lights were always too bright, the walls too white, and the air and Ardmore's face too cold. Kayla's heart was beginning to clench with anxiety and sadness whenever she had to go back to live among her own kind, and the thought terrified her. How could she, after only a few months, begin to turn her back on her whole life, and for what? A life filled with happiness and good health with her brother's family?

The human race was counting on her to test the limits between a driver and their avatar, to go the distance and hope that whatever tests she completes will lead to her entire species' survival. Kayla wanted to save the human race, but now... all she wanted was to be left alone, on Pandora, living among her brother's people.

These thoughts always plagued her, especially at night alone in her living quarters when she was in her human form. As she tossed and turned in bed, she'd stare at all four walls, on her back, before staring up at the blank, cold ceiling above her, wishing she didn't have a heart, much like Ardmore. She wished she could just do her job instead of learning to care for and love the Omatikaya, to cherish every moment she gets with her nieces and nephews. Part of her believes that she had every right to turn on her own kind because when has the human race ever done anything for her other than take everyone she loved away? But another part of her felt immensely guilty, knowing that she would have never thought twice about coming to Pandora if it weren't for the human race.

There was no deadline, but Kayla still felt as though she was running out of time. Two sides battling a war inside her head and her heart, and she didn't know which side to listen to. Dutifully heading to the lab for a new day of poking and prodding, Kayla anxiously awaited until she'd be able to run around in the form she now preferred. She tried her best not to appear excited when it was time for her to jump into a link bay and tried calming her breaths as the lid closes around her and she shuts her eyes.

Waking up in the mountains, sporting a tail and blue skin, Kayla already felt lighter than a feather, her worries washing away the moment she walked out of the Longhouse, and Spider, Lo'ak, and Tuk immediately dragged her away for another adventure. She went about her day normally, learning her respective lessons and helping out among the clan as best as she could. Around the time she was meant to help Mo'at with preparing for the communal dinner that evening, she noticed that Kiri had yet to join them, as she had promised the day before that she would assist. Mo'at clicked her tongue and shook her head before sending Kayla out to find the girl and Kayla happily obeyed. The sky was growing dark as an eclipse was beginning to form when the female marine found Kiri near the edge of the camp, legs swinging off the end of the mountain while braiding bits of her hair and integrating some beads into the entanglements. Her eyes were focused on the braids, but they still looked as though they were hundreds of miles away, deep in thought.

"Hey, Kiri," Kayla had called out so as not to spook her eldest niece, "Mind if I join you?"

Kiri didn't look up and instead motioned to the open spot on the ground beside her, "Please do."

Kayla idly stepped over to the edge and carefully sat down beside her, swinging her legs beside Kiri's. They sat in silence while Kiri braided parts of her hair and Kayla leaned back on her hands to stare up at the stars. "So. Why are we out here instead of helping your grandmother?"

The girl hissed, mostly to herself, as if cringing at her own mistake, "I forgot I wanted to help. Maybe we should just head back--"

"No, no. This is much more interesting," Kayla earns a laugh from the young girl and smiles softly, "What's distracting you today?"

"I went to see my mom today and watched some of her old video logs."

"Yeah?"

"I was watching a video I hadn't seen yet. She briefly mentioned her life back on Earth and it just got me thinking about... whether or not she might have had family still there. What if I have family on Earth? I don't know, it just got me thinking..."

Her hands pull out of her braids and rest on her lap, eyes staring down at her swinging legs with a forlorn gaze. Kayla watched as Kiri's ears and tail lowered as her thoughts likely darken in her mind. Despite coming to terms with the fact that she never learned how to deal with depressed children, Kayla spoke from experience, remembering the days she was once as young and lonely as Kiri, "You know, I read your mom's book."

One of Kiri's ears twitched in Kayla's direction, still unable to look up from her feet, "Really?"

"Yeah. I have a copy back in my room at Bridgehead. Maybe one day I'll be able to get it to ya."

"What's her writing like?"

"Intelligent and informative." Kayla hums while looking up at the sky, "There's a fascination and a bit of sarcasm in there. Doctor Augustine is definitely one of those women who know they're the smartest in the room and is annoyed at the fact that she's surrounded by idiots."

Kiri huffed a small laugh, lips turning up into a gentle, sweet smile as she craned her neck up to also watch the stars, "I wonder if I would be anything like her if she was alive to raise me."

"And what's wrong with how you are now?" Kiri visibly winced at the question and so the older woman backtracked, "Sorry. You don't have to tell me."

She decides to approach the subject from a different angle by using distraction as her tactic. Kayla's voice changes a pitch, indicating a change in conversation, "Hey, could you help me out with something?"

Kiri shrugged, "Sure."

"Could you tell me which star is Earth?"

Kiri finally looks back at her aunt, eyebrows furrowing oddly at her before looking back up at the sky. She searches for a moment, her eyes darting over the inky canvas surrounding her homeworld as she finally spots the star her father has pointed out to her several times before. She raises her own hand to point it out as well, "That one."

"Thanks."

When Kiri looked back at the older woman, she found Kayla staring up at the star she had pinpointed, a vulnerable expression the teenager couldn't quite figure out, "... Do you miss someone there?"

"No, but I miss the planet. At least a little bit. I think I just like being able to see it, even if it's from afar instead of up close. It's comforting," Kayla lowered her gaze from the stars above to Kiri, even depicting the small star constellations scattered across the teen's face, "Kinda like how you are with your mom's avatar. So close but so far away."

Kiri's eyes widen briefly before she turned away, biting her lip to refrain from sniffling when her eyes began to grow warm and blurry. Kayla's hand reaches out and hesitantly rests on the girl's shoulder, "We all miss home, kiddo, even the parts we never got to know."

"... Thanks, Auntie."

It's a strange title, one that Kayla was trying to get used to as the kids started to call her that more and more. She awkwardly tried responding, "Sure thing."

They go back to star gazing after Kiri managed to tame her tears. The girl watches the sky with her new comfort in the form of her aunt's words blanketing with an aura of safety and understanding between them. Without looking back at Kayla, Kiri spoke the motto she knew since she could learn to talk, "Sullys stick together, right?"

Had she looked, she would've seen Kayla's entire body bristle at those words, sucking in a sharp breath as quietly as she could. The phrase haunted the woman's dreams and now followed her everywhere she went. Who knew that she would have to travel to an entirely different planet before she would hear those words again? Envy and resentment invade her senses, skin prickling with anger as she tried to visibly contain the bomb going off in her head so Kiri couldn't see. Her voice is tight when she responds, like a rubberband about to snap, all the while years' worth of betrayal start rushing back to the forefront of Kayla's mind, but not directed at the poor girl who was unaware of the fire she had started.

"Yeah. Right."

A/N: 'a new leaf part two' will be out soon and then it'll be onto the events of the Way of Water! Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

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serasvictoria · 2 years

Text

The House

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader x Steve Harrington

Summary: A test of courage to spend a few hours in the Creel house on Halloween night turns into something else entirely.

Word Count: 9148

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Fingering. Hand jobs. Oral (m receiving). Deep throating. Face fucking. Unprotected sex (P in V). Overstimulation. Swearing. Alcohol use (they drink a beer). Eddie and Steve kinda have a “good cop, bad cop” thing going for a bit (don’t know if that’s worth a warning). Never explicitly stated anywhere, but this takes place after graduation so Reader is of age. And please let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: A day late! I can only apologise, but this fic was a lot and only got longer and longer so that’s my excuse. This is my first time writing Steve in a smut fic so fingers crossed I’ve managed to do him justice🤞🏻

Beta read by the magnificent @mylifeisactuallyamess. Thanks again! ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Even now, as you walked up the steps to the front door, you still felt that same rush that you did when you were a kid.

Everyone in Hawkins knew about the old Creel House. The place where Victor Creel killed his entire family in a horrific way that didn’t seem like a human could have been capable of it. People avoided it like the plague and it was almost as if the whole town was waiting for the walls to finally crumble and turn to dust so they could forget that it ever even existed.

“Scared?” Eddie’s grin is wide, bordering on demonic because he was ever the showman. “We can still go back.”

“I’m not scared,” you retort. “Are you?”

“No,” he replies instantly. “It’s just an old house. Its only occupants are probably spiders, mice and bats. Nothing to be scared of.”

You didn��t believe him.

Every kid in Hawkins had gone through the same rite of passage on Halloween night.

Small groups of kids would gather on the sidewalk in front of the house and watch as someone from their group would walk to the front door, knock, stand there for at least thirty seconds before hightailing it back to his or her friends and the process would repeat itself until everyone had done the same thing.

You had managed to do it when you were ten years old, but only barely. It was different now that you were older and wiser and knew that there was nothing to be afraid of.

It was just your mind playing tricks on you, making you believe that every shadow was a lurking demon or that every time the old wood creaked that it was the dead children of Victor Creel out to get you, forever stuck in the old house.

The reason that you were here now was because of one of Eddie’s dumb ideas. He had practically dared you into going to the old house on Halloween night, not just knocking on the door, but actually spending some time inside, too. He probably thought that you’d be too chicken to do it, but you had surprised him by saying that you’d be game.

The days leading up to it had been spent trying to put the other person off from going through with it. Citing various urban legends that surrounded the house, with the murders coming front and center obviously. Neither of you would be deterred however and that was how you found yourself standing in front of that door right now.

In a way you couldn’t quite believe that you were dumb enough to actually go through with it, half expecting that the floorboards would snap in two underneath you the second that you set foot through the door, but it would be worth it simply to wipe the smile off Eddie’s face.

It took him a short while before he managed to get the door open and the hinges creaked loudly when he slammed his shoulder into the old wood.

“Ladies first,” Eddie says with a bow and his arm gesturing into the dark house.

“You pussy,” you mock and then you step inside. When you turn around, he’s still standing right there on the threshold, staring at you wide-eyed. “Are you coming?” You pull your hands into your underarms and flap them around like they’re wings. “Or are you chicken?”

“Pfff. No way.” He straightens up immediately and takes a couple of large strides into the house until he’s standing a short distance in front of you. “Was just waiting for you to chicken out.”

“Yeah right,” you counter. “I could see the look on your face, you know.”

“Sure you could,” he huffs. “Come on. Lets explore.”

It was even creepier on the inside than outside. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The furniture had been left behind, picture frames hung askew on the walls or had fallen to the floor entirely, curtains hung in tatters on the rails, wallpaper was left to peel off the walls and the paint, which had probably been vibrant one day, had dulled over time.

Eddie had brought a couple of flashlights and while he wasn’t really illuminating much apart from his face by holding it underneath his chin almost the entire time, it did work brilliantly by making you focus more on him than on your surroundings.

Leading you into the back of the house, the both of you came to a standstill in what had probably been a study at one point or another. Some of the planks that had been put in front of the windows were missing and the pale blue moonlight was filtering it. It cast the space in an eerie glow.

“This is perfect,” Eddie declares. “We can hang out here.”

“What was the plan anyway?” You run a finger over one of the windowsills and look at the caked dust on the pad as you bring it up to your face. “You never were clear about that.”

“Nothing apart from drinking a couple of beers,” he shrugs.

“Huh,” you look around the space once more. “You just wanted to sit on the floor? Your jeans will get dirty.”

“I have a blanket in the van.”

“Of course you do,” you sigh. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“I sleep in there sometimes,” he responds.

“Sure, Eddie. Is that why you have condoms in the glovebox too?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you. Again.” He gives you the finger and you roll your eyes. “You wanna come with me and get the blanket and the beers?”

“No thank you,” you reply quickly. “I’ll wait for you right here.”

“Right here? You sure?” He actually sounds worried and you were somewhat sure that he wasn’t taking the piss. “You don’t have to act like a badass just to impress me, you know.”

“I’m not!” You step closer to him until you’re close enough to nudge his shoulder. “Just be quick, alright?”

“Fast as the wind, babe,” he says with a wink. “Promise.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but not because of the creepy house this time. Eddie flirted with everything that had a pulse, but it still made your heart flutter when he called you by an endearing nickname.

Eddie whistles as he walks off, some tune that you can’t quite place and that you highly suspect is from some random horror movie seeing how it sounds a bit sinister. You can hear him off in the distance, on the porch right outside, then on the path, until you can’t hear him at all anymore.

Now that Eddie had left you on your own, you weren’t so sure if you could handle it. You had merely told him that you could so he wouldn’t make fun of you (not that he ever would) and you were regretting it now.

It was as if every part of the house creaked now, as though the walls were talking and were telling you to get the hell out of here, but you couldn’t. Your legs were frozen in place, unable to move. You brought your hands up to your chest, feeling your heart beat furiously inside your ribcage and you took in a deep breath in the hopes of making it stop.

It didn’t work.

If anything it only felt like more adrenaline was being pumped through your system, triggering even more feelings of fear. You found yourself wishing that Eddie would come back soon, to have him fill up the silence by cracking dumb jokes, anything to pierce through the silence of the house. If your mouth had been able to move, you would have called out to him, but your jaw was clamped tightly shut.

When you feel a hand touch your shoulder, your entire body jolts before you breathe a sigh of relief, and you almost say the name of your friend as you turn around and find yourself staring straight into a Michael Myers mask instead.

You scream. It’s louder than you have ever screamed before and seconds later, you curl in on yourself, hands wrapped around your body and rocking back and forth on your heels.

The voice that answers isn’t Eddie’s voice and it barely even registers who was underneath the mask when he pulls it off, crouches down in front of you and tries to get you to calm down.

“Hey, hey,” Steve says softly before saying your name a few times. “Jesus Christ. Relax. It’s just me.” By this point, you’re crying and you can see the horrified look on Steve’s face over how badly wrong this prank even went. “Oh fuck. Please calm down.”

But you can’t.

So Steve does the only thing that he can think of doing.

From out of nowhere, he suddenly presses his lips down on yours and he keeps them there until you eventually reach out, tangle your fingers in his shirt and sigh. He pulls away slowly and you blink a few times just to make sure that he was really there.

“Okay now?” You nod and Steve smiles at you as he wipes your tears away. “Jesus, I didn’t even know you could scream that lou- Ow!” You slap his chest suddenly. “What was that for?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Steve!” When you try to hit him again, he grabs your wrist instead to ensure that you can’t hit him again. “Can’t believe that you’d do that to me!”

“It was Munson’s idea,” Steve jerks his head back to the doorway where Eddie stands, blanket and six pack of beer in his hands and staring at the two of you, his expression unreadable. “He thought that it would be funny.”

“Not funny, Eddie!” You flip him off. “Why would you even ask him to do that? That’s such a dick move.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles before walking over to where you and Steve were, spreading the blanket out next to you and sitting down on it. “Shoulda seen your face though,” he says, but there’s no real amusement in his voice. It just feels a bit… empty.

He pulls one can of beer from the plastic rings and gestures at you two to take one as well. You and Steve share an awkward look and then you join Eddie.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s voice as he fills the silence with all kinds of stories, you find yourself listening to Steve talk instead. He talks about work and Dustin who had come in to ask for the scariest movie that they had, which Steve had to deny him on account of his age. He recounts Dustin’s reply word for word and you laugh until your sides hurt.

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent. He keeps looking at you and then at Steve, biting his bottom lip and looking down into his can of beer wistfully.

Eddie had planned the whole thing out.

Steve would scare the crap out of you and then Eddie would swoop in, acting all heroic, you’d fall into his arms and then he could finally tell you exactly how he had been feeling about you for a while.

Instead, Steve had completely stolen his thunder and had ended up kissing you instead. Suave bastard. Leave it to King Steve to ruin everything.

Maybe he should have asked Dustin to scare you instead, but since he had other plans Eddie had never asked him about it. Instead opting for Steve because he didn’t have a date for once in his life.

Now he’s forced to sit there as Steve makes you laugh and he hates that he even feels this way. Eddie had prided himself in the fact that he has never once been jealous of Steve, hell, he really liked the guy too, but he sure was green with envy now.

Steve throws a couple of odd looks in Eddie’s direction as well, as if he was silently asking him what the fuck he was doing and why he wasn’t joining in with the storytelling because Eddie was far better at it than he was, but he got nothing back in reply.

“Oh, Steve!” you suddenly exclaim. “Didn’t you have to get that thing?”

“Thing?” He looks confused and honestly, anyone would have. “What thing?”

“You know,” you hiss and your eyes dart over to Eddie until you see some spark of recognition bloom in Steve’s expression. “That thing.”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he mutters, unconvincingly. “Now I remember. So I guess I should uh… get it huh?” You roll your eyes at Steve’s sad attempt at acting. You’d think that he would be somewhat better at this. “The thing.”

“Yeah, you should.” You pull on his arm to drag him in closer so you can whisper in his ear. “Give us a couple of minutes, alright?”

“Sure,” he replies. He gives your shoulder a stiff pat and gets to his feet. Steve can’t seem to resist giving you and Eddie a weird thumbs up which he follows up with the immortal words, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.”

A groan escapes your lips and you mouth the word, “Go,” at him until Steve leaves the room. You look over to where Eddie is still sitting, unmoving like a statue, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him. You really needed to get to the bottom of his sudden mood change.

“What’s gotten into you?” You sidle up close to him and put your hand on his forearm. “You’re so quiet.”

“Nothing.” Eddie couldn’t keep the dejected tone out of his voice and you frowned at him. “Long night.”

“It’s about ten thirty,” you say softly. “You’re usually not in bed until around two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I did a lot of stuff today, you know.” It was the weakest excuse that he could have come up with and he hoped that you bought it. “Had to help Wayne with some stuff around the trailer.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in reply and he can tell straight away that you don’t believe a single word that he’s saying. “Sure.”

“What?” Eddie can’t stop himself from bristling slightly at your reply. “It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t.” You shift until you’re sitting right in front of him, but he seems reluctant to look you in the eye. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s really going on? If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go home.”

That got his attention.

“You can’t leave!” There’s a bit of a panicked look in his eyes, but at least he’s looking at you now. “I’m sorry, alright? But please don’t go.”

“I’ll go if you won’t talk to me,” you repeat once more. “So spill. Tell me what’s up.”

“Alright,” he said with a groan. “It’s Harrington.”

“What about him?”

“Are you for real?” Everything about his tone of voice tells you that he seems to think that you should get it, but you have no idea what he’s on about. You look at him questioningly until he follows up on his question with an annoyed sigh and says, “He kissed you!”

“Yeah, he did,” you shrug, because you hadn’t minded at all. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes! He wasn’t supposed to-“ Eddie swallows his words back down. If he told you what the problem was, you’d laugh at him, of that he was certain. “Eh. It’s eh… he’s lame.”

“No. Fuck off. Don’t do that, Eddie. He wasn’t supposed to do what?”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. He didn’t have a choice now. He had to come clean. If he didn’t, you would leave and he definitely didn’t want that to happen. “He wasn’t supposed to kiss you.”

“And why not?”

“Because… ‘cause… that’s what I wanted to do,” he eventually mumbled.

“Oh yeah?” In all the time that you have known Eddie, you never once thought that you’d hear him say that. You had dreamed of it, of course, but it’s quite different to actually hear him say it. You actually give the back of your hand a squeeze just to make sure that you’re awake. “You wanna kiss me?”

“Yeah.” He says it so softly that you can barely even hear him at all. “I do.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Wait.” Eddie blinks in surprise. Very much like you were thinking earlier, he obviously hadn’t expected you to say that. “You want me to kiss you?”

“You can if you want to,” you reply shyly. “Just saying.”

“Shit.” He looks at your face more closely, probably to check if you’re being sincere, but there’s no hint of a lie to be found anywhere. “Shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” You look down at yourself and pull on a stray bit of thread that came loose from the hemline of your shirt. “Do you want to?”

“Yes.” The thread is instantly forgotten when he says that, making you look back up into his dark eyes. “Yes, I want to.”

You lean forward a little, moving into his space, and Eddie’s eyes widen, surprised that you even want him to kiss you. He leans in, too, close enough for him to count your eyelashes if he wanted to, and being this close is making his heart race.

This was really happening. This was actually fucking happening.

Your lips touch, nothing more than a light brush against each other as you finally make contact, and he finds himself pulling away just a tiny bit, only for you to give chase and pressing your lips back on him with some more force. Your hands move to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair to ensure that he can’t pull away.

Eddie gives in all too easily and your lips press and slide against each other. His tongue moves over your lips, following the crease between them, and you open your mouth to give him access. His tongue dives into your mouth, seeking out yours so they can move together.

You sigh and his hands move to your waist, pulling you in closer until your chests are pressed flush together. Eddie can feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through your shirt and bra.

A loudly creaking floorboard pulls the both of you out of the moment.

Your heads turn as one to see Steve leaning against the doorway, his arms folded in front of his chest, and with an amused look on his face.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“We were until you interrupted,” Eddie grumbled.

“I guess,” you say with a mischievous grin. When Eddie pinches your arm, you wink at him. “I was kidding. That was a good kiss.”

“Better than mine?” Steve asks as he settles back down on the floor in the same spot where he was sitting before.

“Didn’t last long enough so I can’t exactly compare you guys,” you giggle.

Steve takes a sip from his beer and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He wipes his mouth with his hand and suddenly asks, “You want to?”

The whole atmosphere in the room changes suddenly. The three of you exchange looks and there is a pause as you wait for someone to raise any objections, but nothing happens.

Even the house is silent, like it’s holding his breath as it waits for events to unfurl.

The silence drags on and from the way that Steve is looking at you, eyebrows raised and one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile, makes you realize that you were supposed to say something.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you let slip, speaking so quickly that it almost comes out as one word because your nerves briefly seem to have taken control of your mouth. Steve tilts his head to the side when you give him that as an answer. This was not the time to be flippant. “Yes. I do,” you amend yourself with more certainty.

“Okay.” Steve shrugs with a grin before getting up and sitting down next to you. He brushes some hairs out of your face and his hand lingers on your jaw as he leans in slowly. “Now be sure to tell us who’s the better kisser.”

Kissing Steve is different.

With Eddie there was an underlying sweetness and a hint of hesitation, but Steve kisses you with a lot more certainty. He doesn’t hold back like Eddie initially did and hits you with the full force of what he can do.

You’re reduced to moaning into his mouth within seconds, the muscles in your thighs quivering as every press of his lips goes straight down to your core. Seemingly noticing this, Steve’s hand drops down to your lap, his fingers gingerly brushing over the front of your jeans at first before pressing down harder and making sparks fly from your cunt.

Not wanting to be outdone, you feel Eddie’s chest pressing against your back. He removes your jacket first and then his hands circle your waist momentarily before he cups your tits and gives a squeeze that’s almost too gentle. You mewl between the two boys and your mind has a hard time processing that this is even happening at all.

You pull away from Steve’s lips with reluctance. “What are we doing?” Steve’s lips settle on your neck where he starts creating marks by sucking on your skin. “Are we going to have sex in a haunted house?”

“You wanna have sex?” Eddie attempts to sound scandalized, but it doesn’t help that he’s chuckling and then Steve starts laughing, too. “Such a filthy girl.”

“If I had known this beforehand, I never would have kissed you,” Steve agrees. “You actually want us to fuck you on this old floor?”

“I dunno,” you gasp. “You guys just want to keep touching me like this?”

“Like what?” Steve counters as his deft fingers pop the button of your jeans, pull the zip down and then slides them in. “Like this?” He doesn’t have much room to work with, but his digits slide up and down your wet panties and you push up into his hand. “You’re soaked, babe.”

“Fucking knew it,” Eddie breathes into your ear. “She’s practically gagging for it.”

“You were right,” Steve acknowledges and the pad of his index finger rubs circles around your still covered up clit.

“You guys planned this?” The question spills out of you in between little gasps and moans as two sets of hands keep touching you. Eddie’s lips are on your shoulder, dragging back and forth, and Steve keeps his beautiful eyes on you at all times. “That’s just so-“

“Right?” Steve interjects.

“Filthy?” Eddie says at the same time.

“Unexpected,” you say instead. “I had no idea-“

“I didn’t exactly plan this,” Eddie reveals. “Didn’t get further than kissing you if I’m honest.” You crane your neck, turning your head slightly so you can just about see him. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” Steve affirms. “And what about you?” He addresses you now, looks for even the slightest hint of doubt on your face. “You can still opt out. No hard feelings.”

“I could,” you reply teasingly, wanting to keep them in suspense for a little bit even if you were already ridiculously into this. “You guys wouldn’t hate me for it?”

“I wouldn’t,” Eddie’s lips move against your skin as he talks, the collar of your shirt pulled to the side to give him more room to work with. “I’d just be incredibly disappointed.”

“And you?” Your hand loosely curls around Steve’s bicep. His fingers never once stopped working you over, continuing on with their ministrations over your soaked through panties. “Would you be disappointed as well, Steve?”

Worldly Steve Harrington gives you nothing to work with, nothing apart from a smirk, because he already knows what you want. He had seen it written all over your face from the moment that you agreed to let him kiss you again.

You’re so fucking hungry for both of them.

“Fuck it.” You knock your back into Eddie’s chest. He gets the idea and pulls away. Steve merely looks at you with his eyebrows raised when you peel his hand out of your jeans. You take a deep breath. “Fuck. It.”

Getting to your feet, you take a step back and both the boys look up at you expectantly. Reaching down to the hemline of your shirt, you pull it up over your head. You kick your sneakers off and then strip out of your jeans.

So now you’re standing in what was probably once the dining room of an old house, a house that may very well be haunted, and you’re in your underwear. You’re standing in front of two guys, two very hot guys, and you’re about to embark on something that you had only ever dared dream about.

Eddie gets up first and all the uncertainty from before is gone. It’s replaced with confidence now that you’ve made it clear that you are very into this.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath as his eyes rake up and down your body. He cups your cheeks and kisses you with such force that it makes your head spin. “I always had you down as innocent, you know?” You laugh at that. “For real,” Eddie emphasizes. “Because you always looked like it. So sweet and perfect. Silently asking to be defiled.”

“Sorry.” You’re having a hard time not scoffing in his face, because you were far from as innocent as he’s making you sound. “Did I burst your bubble?”

“You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.” His words make a shiver run down your spine and you swear that it makes you go even wetter as well. “But I never thought you’d be this filthy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out exactly how bad I really am.” Your hands move to his vest, sliding underneath the leather jacket and pushing it off his shoulders until it falls to the floor with a thud. “You want to know what I’m really like?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out and your hands slide over his chest, feeling every muscle through the thin Hellfire shirt that he wore. “What are you gonna do?”

“You’ll see.” You don’t remove his shirt, nor do you tell him to take it off, not yet. Your digits skim over his nipples over the fabric and you see Eddie’s hips jerk forward a little. “I want to make you feel good.” His beautiful eyes were squeezed shut for a second there, but as soon as you start undoing his belt, he looks down. “Will you let me?”

With his belt now hanging open, you start undoing the button of his jeans and then slowly slide the zip down. His eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets when you sink down onto your knees.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, somewhat unable to believe his luck. You pull his jeans down roughly, down past his knees. When you pull his plaid boxers down, his big dick nearly pokes your eye out. “Oh fuck.”

Grabbing his thighs, you make Eddie turn a fraction, just to make sure that Steve has one of the best views in the house. Your gaze falls down to his hand which is palming the front of his jeans to relieve some of the tension that’s building.

You know for a fact that Steve is packing, it’s all in the way that he carries himself. It is something that is also confirmed by his tight jeans that leave nothing to the imagination. It’s all right there, on display for everyone that wants to see.

Eddie’s just about had enough of waiting and he grabs his cock so he can wipe the ruddy tip over your cheek, just to remind you that he’s still there.

“Didn’t forget you,” you say as you look back up at him. Your index finger swipes over your cheek, to gather the drops of precum that he smeared over your skin, and you stick it in your mouth so you can suck the salty fluid off. “I’d never.”

A potential smartass reply dies in his throat and turns into a groan instead when you finally take his cock into your mouth.

This is as much a show for Eddie as it is for Steve and you start licking Eddie’s cock like it’s a popsicle. The noises you make are over exaggerated, humming and moaning like you were having the best meal in your entire life.

Steve’s hand slides down into his jeans and the way that he angles himself, just about able to wrap his fingers around himself, makes the reddened tip of his dick poke out of the top of his boxers.

You gesture with your hand in an effort to make Steve come closer, which he does. You circle the fingers of your free hand around the base of Eddie’s cock and lazily start jerking him off to make sure that he wasn’t being left out.

When Steve’s close enough, you attempt to push down his jeans, but when you’re only able to uncover part of the trail of hair that goes down into his underwear, he gives you a helping hand instead.

Steve doesn’t work slow. He pushes the fabric down just far enough for his cock to jump out and you audibly gasp when it’s finally revealed. He’s long, thick too, and you honestly can’t wait until he impales you on it.

You spit on the palm of your hand, reach down and lubricate his shaft with your saliva. Then your digits curl around the velvety skin, squeezing once, and then your hand starts gliding up and down his length.

Turning your head back in Eddie’s direction, you take him into your mouth again, deepthroating him to make up for your previous neglect. The noises he makes are a fair indication that he’s more than willing to forgive you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with your mouth full,” he remarks. “Don’t you think so too, Harrington?”

“Yeah, she does,” Steve agrees. “She can’t give us any lip now.”

“True.” Eddie’s hand moves to the back of your head, just to make sure that you can’t pull away. “Bet you’d like to though, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You manage to get out a distorted “uh-huh” and the boys laugh cruelly, amused at your current predicament. Though it couldn’t exactly be called a predicament when you were this into it.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you keep moving your mouth up and down Eddie’s cock, mirroring the speed with which your hand was working over Steve’s. Both of them swear under their breaths and their joined moans are like the sweetest music that you've ever heard.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie comments.

“Think that you earned yourself a little reward, baby,” Steve adds. He pulls your hand away from him and you would have asked him why if you could have, but he moves until he’s right behind you so you can’t see him anymore.

Soon enough, you feel him though. One of his hands settles on your stomach and starts to dip down lower until it’s between your thighs. His fingertips move over your panties and come to rest on your mound, his touch feather light and barely applying pressure at all. You whine pathetically and Steve chuckles in your ear.

His free hand moves in, hooking the saturated cloth under his thumb and pulling it away so that your cunt is now exposed to the cold air. He is still hardly touching you, his fingers digging into the top of your thigh, about an inch away from your burning core.

When his fingers finally touch your pussy, you sigh deeply, satisfied that he’s finally touching you right where you want him to.

Steve wastes no time. He slides his fingers between your wet lips, picking up enough moisture and sinks one finger in shortly after. One finger quickly becomes two and he fucks you with his fingers so fast that you can barely keep up with his onslaught on your cunt.

Steve’s erection pokes in your lower back, as a reminder that he’s still hard, his hips gently rocking back and forth against your flushed skin.

Since you’re now too focused on the pleasure that Steve is bringing you, you in turn lose sight of Eddie. Though you could have argued that that was impossible to do seeing how his dick was still firmly pressed into your mouth.

Eddie’s hands grasp your face, his touch far from gentle now, fingertips threading into your hair. His hips advance forward, holding your head still as his cock hits the back of your throat and he starts rocking back and forth.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says in a tone that sounds far from apologetic. “Had to take matters into my own hands.” You look up at him, tears already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. “You don’t mind, do you?” Eddie relaxes his grip on you slightly, just enough so that you can shake your head a little. “Good fucking girl.”

Steve’s fingers curl up inside you, pressing against your sweet spot, the one that makes your toes curl, and you moan loudly around Eddie’s cock, who can’t help himself as soon as he feels the vibrations from your voice and presses in deeper than before. He can feel the muscles in your throat fluttering around him deliciously.

Saliva bubbles at the corners of your mouth and spills out as you choke around him. You breathe in deeply through your nose, letting Eddie continue to use you for his own needs.

Steve doesn’t let up either, his fingers not so much thrusting now, but more curling and constantly prodding that ribbed part inside. You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach, muscles tightening around his thick digits and your orgasm hits you with the power of a freight train.

You would have screamed if you had been able to. Instead the sounds of your sudden climax come out all garbled. Eddie doesn’t grant you a moment reprieve either, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he keeps fucking your face.

The first spurt of his cum hits the back of your throat and you do your best to swallow, to devour everything that he gives you, but when he pulls his softening dick out of your mouth, a little trickle of his seed comes out, mixed with your spit, spilling down your lip and chin.

“What’s this, sweetness?” Eddie notices immediately and his thumb wipes the residue away gently. “You made a mess.” He forcefully shoves his thumb into your mouth. “Suck.”

You do as he commands and your tongue twirls around it, cleaning off whatever leftovers were stuck to the pad of his finger and he doesn’t pull it out until he’s satisfied that you got rid of everything.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Isn’t she well behaved?”

“Very.” Steve’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and the skin on your arms bump instantly. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me, too, baby?”

“Yes,” you reply resolutely. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Even better,” Steve says. “We like that, don’t we?“

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Eddie sits back down, right in front of you and Steve, and he looks on hungrily. “What do you want Stevie to do to you, sweetheart?”

“W-want him to-“

“Don’t tell me,” Eddie cuts you off with a grin, “tell Steve.”

When you turn around to face him, Steve has an expectant look in his beautiful eyes, waiting for you to tell him exactly what you want him to do to you.

“I want you to fuck me, Steve,” you confess, “want you to fuck me real good.”

“Oh yeah?” He reaches out and trails his fingers from your shoulder down your bare arm. You shiver as soon as he makes contact with your skin. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-yes,” you confirm, “that’s what I want.”

“Take off your bra.”

Steve doesn’t just ask you, no, he’s telling you, and you’re willing to comply with his demand partly. You reach around your back and unhook the garment. You hold the cups in place with one arm and slide the straps down your arms with the other.

“Take it off for me?” You bat your lashes at him and bite your bottom lip.

“Sure,” Steve chuckles. He removes your arm from your chest and your bra simply slides off as soon as that happens. “Would you look at that,” he whistles through his teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”

The urge to cover up is damn near overwhelming, their intense stares are practically killing you, but as soon as you shift your arms, the movement so slight it should have been imperceptible, Steve notices.

“Don’t.” His hands come up to your elbows, firmly holding them in place. “Don’t cover yourself up.”

An apology forms in your mind, but there’s little chance to actually utter it. Steve dips his head down, until he’s level with your chest, and licks a line from between your tits up over your sternum.

His lips start moving over your neck and to the bottom of your jaw, nice and slow, kissing his way up until he can blow air into your ear. It makes you shiver.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve speaks in hushed tones, almost as if he doesn’t want Eddie to hear what he’s telling you. “I always thought so, you know?”

“I didn’t,” you answer. His hand is on your lower back, index finger hooking underneath the elastic band of your panties so he can pull it away from your body and snap it back.

“Well, you are.” He picks at the waistband impatiently. “Why don’t you take these off, too?”

“Gladly.” You reach out, place a few fingers on his thigh and tap his jeans. “Are you going to do the same?“

“Guess I’ll have to.”

It doesn’t take that long until both of you are completely naked from the waist down. It does not escape you that you’re the only one that’s completely naked now either.

“You gonna let me fuck you in front of Eddie?” Steve husks in your ear when he leans in. “Make him watch while I split you open with my dick?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

“Please? Damn, I love that.” Steve sits back, long legs spread out in front of him and his arms positioned behind. You move in to straddle his hairy thighs and wait for him to make a move, but nothing happens. He flashes you a wide grin and says, “Go on. Put it in.”

Your eyes fall on his massive erection and you can’t help but swallow hard.

Obediently, you rise up, position his cock in front of your entrance and sink down on him. It’s insane how he just seems to keep coming, like there’s no end to his cock, but you’ll be damned if you let him break you.

Not when Eddie’s waiting in the wings to take over as soon as Steve’s done with you anyway.

You keep letting yourself sink down a little bit more at a time, taking inch after inch, until you finally reach the end of him. You inhale a sharp breath as you try to adjust to his size.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you whine. “You’re in so deep that you’ll be coming out my belly button as soon as I move.”

“Think that you can’t take it?”

“Fuck, you think that little of me?” You grind your hips against his, slowly, slow enough to savor the feel of him. “I’d like to try.”

“Shit,” he laughs. “You’re a fucking dream, babe.” Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his yellow sweater and you pull on it harshly. “Off?“

“Yeah, off.” He pulls the sweater and the shirt that he had on underneath off. As soon as his chest is bare, you run your hands up and down his chest, feeling his chest hair on your palms. You lean forward to lick a stripe up his neck and when you reach his ear, you take the lobe between your teeth and give a gentle tug. “I’m gonna move now,” you tell him.

“Go for it.” He can’t resist smacking your ass and squeezing you roughly when you finally start rocking against him. “That’s it, baby.”

Hanging onto his shoulders, you start riding him. It’s all you now, Steve barely moves, instead looking closely at the point where your bodies meet and how your cunt greedily keeps sucking his cock back in.

Arching your back, you push your chest out and put a hand on the back of his head to pull him in closer until he figures out what you want him to do.

His lips latch onto your nipple, his mouth hot as he sets to sucking gently. You buck up, hips lifting so far up that his cock almost slips out entirely, but you catch yourself just in time and slam back down.

“Fuck, Steve.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands every time that his tongue swipes over your hot skin. “Feels so good.”

“You feel good,” He exhales against you. “So fucking tight. You fit like a glove.”

Finally he moves, angling his hips so he can fuck up into you, and you mewl his name. He rams in so deep that it should have been painful, but the ecstasy that’s budding is starting to overtake all your other senses.

Shoving a hand in between your bodies, circling your clit with two fingers. The combination of his thrusts along with your own assistance are electrifying and you start chasing your release with desperation.

Steve mutters words of encouragement which you barely hear, because of your climax peaks and flows in waves through your body, from your cunt to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Your body goes limp, your head sagging forward slightly, and you need a second to recollect yourself. The only thing that even snaps you out of it is the fact that Steve is still rock hard. Tilting your chin back up, you stare deep into his blown out pupils for about a second before he surges forward.

There’s a sense of urgency in the kiss that he gives you. He’s barely able to press his lips on yours as it is, but Steve still tries. You feel his tongue at the corner of your lips and you close your lips around it so you can suck it into your mouth. He gasps, the kiss turning sloppy again, and he wraps his arms around your waist tightly.

“You gonna come, pretty boy?” He presses his head against your shoulder, teeth scraping over your skin as his thrusts grow more uneven. “Huh? You gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” he breathes against your skin.

“Fill me up, Steve.” His hips jerk more roughly up into you. “I want your cum so bad.”

You scream when Steve bites down on your shoulder hard, his climax finally hitting him and needing another outlet. The last few thrusts are weak and then he stills entirely. His tongue laps at the mark that he just left, lazily following the outline of his teeth that was already appearing.

“Sorry,” he breathes against your skin. “Couldn’t control myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” you reply and you push him away from your shoulder so you can cup his face and look him in the eye. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve kisses you then and you can feel him smiling against your lips. “So, so good.”

Steve hangs onto you for a bit longer, his arms still wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you go. You come down from your high together and you’re almost reluctant to let him go, but you hear Eddie exhaling deeply behind you (you don’t even remember him lighting a cigarette) and realize that you have to let go of Steve.

You start shifting a few seconds later, having now entirely caught your breath. Your lips find Steve’s again and you kiss him lazily when you push yourself up, softly groaning when his now soft cock slides out.

“Don’t move.” There’s an underlying sense of hunger to Eddie’s voice and you can hear him move in behind you. “Hold on to Steve’s shoulders.”

With your ass still in the air, you hold on to Steve, whose gaze is fixed entirely in your face. Then you feel a hand on your ass, squeezing, and another one on your slit, fingers sliding in all too easily after Steve spread you open.

“Fuck, it’s leaking out, man.” Eddie sounds impressed as he says that to no one in particular and then two fingers appear in your line of vision. It’s wet with your and Steve’s bodily fluids. “Suck.”

Like earlier, you oblige and start sucking off whatever was on there. The only difference now is that you can feel the tip of his cock prodding your opening. You moan around his fingers when he slides in entirely in one fluid movement.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Told you,” Steve chimes in.

“You did.” Eddie pulls his hand away from your lips and moves it down to lightly grab your throat. Then he pulls back before slamming back inside you roughly. “This fucking pussy,” he groans in your ear. “It’s sucking me right back in.”

“Still haven’t had enough?” Steve places his hand over his heart and pouts at you. “You wound me.”

You don’t answer. You don’t think that you’re able to remember any words at all now that Eddie is plowing into you while you’re practically in Steve’s lap.

Eddie’s ringed fingers squeeze your neck, cutting off your air supply for a split second.

“He asked you a question.” Eddie’s voice is low as he hisses in your ear. “You still want more?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out. “Can’t- can’t get enough.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Guess I’ll just have to give you what you want then.” The speed of his thrusts increases until he’s pounding into you and reducing you to nothing but a whining mess. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

It’s nothing short of insane that Eddie is even able to keep up this manic pace at all, the sound of his skin slapping against yours so fast that you can’t keep track, but somehow he manages.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, your eyesight glazed over by now. You’re so far gone that you haven’t even realized that you had started crying.

“You’re so pretty like this.” When Steve wipes a few fingers over your cheek, that’s the first time that you notice that your skin is wet. “Are you close?”

In an ideal world, you would have been able to answer his question. You would have been able to say “yes, I’m close, so close.” But nothing except incoherent babbling comes out of your mouth as you nonsensically string words together.

“I’ll give you a hand, yeah?” Steve sounds sweet, that’s about all that registers. Your body jumps when his fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing fiercely. “You’re okay,” he says just loud enough over Eddie’s groans. “Come on. Come for us.”

“C-can’t,” you whine. “Ca-can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.” His fingers don’t stop stimulating your swollen bundle of nerves. “One more, baby. Last one.”

“You can do it,” Eddie grunts behind you. “I want you to squeeze me dry, sweetness.”

Despite their encouragement, you’re convinced that you can’t. You came twice already, the most that you’ve ever climaxed in one night, so you’ve already gotten more than you ever could have wished for.

“I-I sw-swear that I- fuck!”

To say that you’re surprised when another orgasm tears through your body would be an understatement. You imagine that this is what it must be like to be struck by lightning. There’s no part of your body that isn’t tingling. You dig your nails into Steve’s shoulders and drag them down his chest all the way to his hips where they come to a standstill.

“Fuck!” Your walls clamp down on Eddie like a vice and he swears loudly as soon as it happens. “You’re fucking- holy shit.”

You barely even notice how tight his grip on your hips is, but come morning there would be an imprint of his ringed fingers on your skin.

Eddie fucks you straight through your orgasm and since Steve seems to be refusing to pull his hand away from your clit, you start screaming through your teeth from the overstimulation. Every muscle in your body jerks, desperately wanting to pull away, but they won’t let you.

There’s no escape from this and your only choice is to ride it out, to let it happen until Eddie finally pumps you full with his cum as well.

The noises that he makes change subtly at first, changing in pitch, his voice getting higher the closer he gets to his release. Eddie shouts your name, one final push, and then you can feel his warm seed filling you up and joining the mess that Steve left a bit earlier.

“Christ,” Eddie’s out of breath which is all down to how much he exerted himself. “Your pussy is fucking perfect.” His softening cock slides out, instantly making you feel empty. A few seconds later, you hear a loud thud. “I could sleep for days.”

“Insane,” you mutter. “You guys are insane.”

“Maybe, but that was hot as fuck,” Eddie replies from somewhere behind you. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“You trying to tell me you didn’t have a great time?” Steve asks and you briefly meet his gaze before looking away again. “Don’t get all shy on me now.” His hand cups your chin, tilting your head back up until you’re forced to look at him again. “You got a mixture of my and Eddie’s cum oozing down your legs. So don’t act all coy.”

“Wasn’t,” you murmur. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say that.”

“There,” he says, satisfied once more. “Feels good now that you’ve admitted it, huh?”

“I was feeling pretty good before,” you admit.

“Really?” You turn your head to look at Eddie who’s sprawled out on the blanket, his head propped up by his arm. “I hadn’t noticed,” he finishes with a smug expression on his face.

“Thought I was hiding it so well, too,” you joke. “Nice to know you’re not just a pretty face, Ed.”

“Shucks, sweetheart, didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Seriously, have you seen you?” You gesture at him with your hand, as if that simple gesture would be enough to explain what words couldn’t. “You’re a handsome devil. Take it from me.”

It had always mystified you how he didn’t have more women fawning all over him, with his big doe eyes, full lips and amazing hair. And you weren’t even talking about his tattoos.

“Same thing goes for you, Steve,” you say to him, even though you don’t think that he needs the validation. With the amount of girls that were throwing themselves at him for a large part of his high school days, he’s probably been told that he’s good looking plenty of times before. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, “I’d much rather look at you though.”

“Charmer.”

“I can’t help it,” he explains. “I see a pretty girl, I need to tell her.”

“Are you giving me the King Steve treatment right now?” You lean in to kiss his cheek suddenly and whisper the following words, “Because you don’t have to, you know.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t dare.” Steve turns his head so he can catch your lips with his. “That was all me.”

“You’re actually making it worse,” you gripe. You nudge at his cheek gently before moving away from him and sitting down next to where Eddie is still spread out on the blanket. You drape your arm over the section of his stomach that’s bare from where his shirt has ridden up. “That’s quite an achievement.”

“I aim to please,” Steve gives you a two-finger Cub Scout salute and a wink which comes across as so cocksure that you can’t help but giggle. He wiggles his eyebrows and adds, “And you definitely look very pleased, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh god, please stop.” Reaching over Eddie, you grab what remains of the six pack and hand Steve a beer, “Here. Now shut up.”

“What about me?” Eddie pushes himself into an upright position and takes the can that you offer him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

A short silence falls over the three of you, nothing to be heard but your breathing and the soft creaking of the house as it seems to come back to life around you. It doesn’t seem as scary to you now as it did in the beginning.

Funny how that changed in a matter of hours.

When you feel Eddie’s hand circle around your ankle, his thumb caressing the back of your heel, you suddenly feel the need to inquire, “Same time, same place next year?”

“Next year?” Eddie sounds nothing short of annoyed that you had even suggested waiting that long. “Fuck that. I want to do that again tomorrow.”

How Eddie can say that when his touch on your leg gets more insistent, his hand already shifting to your calf, making it painfully obvious that he wants to do it again right now is beyond you, but you’re not foolish enough to point it out.

“My parents won’t be home until late November,” Steve helpfully throws in. “So.”

“That’s settled then,” Eddie replies with some finality in his voice, not even waiting for your answer.

They already know your answer after all.

“You guys are going to kill me,” you huff and you try to ignore how Eddie’s hand is slowly moving up past your knee. “Come morning, I’ll be dead,” you say directly to him now, but Eddie simply grins and shrugs.

“Do you mind?” Steve moves in closer next to you and nuzzles your neck. He starts leaving open mouthed kisses all along your jaw and murmurs against your skin, “You can take it. I know you can.”

“I’m not so sure,” you answer, but you still turn your head so you can give him a kiss. You gasp into Steve’s mouth when Eddie’s hand reaches the apex of your thighs. “But I’m willing to give it a go.”

“Attagirl.”

You can’t remember who said that afterwards, but you decide that it doesn’t matter, not when they were gearing you up for another round. Not when there was the prospect of more of this on the horizon whenever you wanted it, but you’d always remember this night, the night when it all started, the Halloween night that changed your life…

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #mar writes

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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

Text

Being Miguel’s daughter in a universe where he is your Doc Ock

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: canon divergence and ignorance (Miguel is Doc Ock in your universe), violence, angst, fighting, she/her pronouns, fem!teen!reader

a/n: the beauty of the multiverse is that there are so many different possibilities for authors and fanfic writers to make up in their stories and this has been rotting in my brain for DAYS <3

—

[Unedited]

Life’s far from fair.

That’s something you had come to learn and accept in the years you spent isolated and alone.

You hadn’t always been alone, no.. at first it was you and your dad. And you loved him with everything you had, offering the bleeding heart in your chest to him in the palms of your hands. And before everything went wrong he had tenderly accepted your gracious vulnerability, and offered his own in turn. To him, you were the brightest and most precious blessing he had ever been given.. and to you— he.. was.. everything.

He meant more to you than anything ever had before.. or since—

“You can’t win Widow!”

—but things change.. life goes on, and only the strong can survive. That’s why you couldn’t afford to withhold any power or capability you had.

Regardless of the fact the enemy you were fighting was your own father, the father you had given everything to, the father you believed would protect you from everything until the end of time.

But.. it just didn’t seem to be written into your destiny. Like a cruel joke or slip of the pen on your life’s journey written by a wicked god— you just weren’t meant to have happiness. Maybe you believed you did for a brief moment in your life when things couldn’t have been better. But now, now you know of the cruel evils in this world, and you know now more than ever.. that people have a way of altering your perspective on the world.

People have a way of letting you down. The hurt tremendous and sharp when it comes from a person you had loved with all your heart.

“You have to stop Miguel! This isn’t right! I’m begging you— please don’t make me do this!”

When you first discovered your father’s alter-ego and the criminal activity he was involved in he had done his best to hide what he’d been doing behind your back. Done his best to protect your innocence to the vile things he’s done unto others.

It was a heartbreak like no other, one you’d never felt before and have only been feeling since. Your father, whom you admired and cherished more than anything, was evil.. and things only dramatically got worse when you were bitten by a radioactive spider and became the Neon Widow of Nueva York-12557.

Only a year later —on your seventeenth birthday— did you come face to face with your father as his much eviler side— Doc Ock.

In some of his shared stories that he always told you regarding his work —a genetics laboratory— you had heard of the possibility of psychological and physical altercation. And he had developed a serum that could mimic the attributes of a spider through splicing one’s DNA ladder and atomic makeup.

Before he could complete his tests with the finished product he was thrown out of the lab and fired, Norman Osborn finding his serum to be dangerous with life changing affects on the receiver. He didn’t want that for anybody.. much less his very best friend. So he tried to deter Miguel from the path he had intended to walk by removing him from the lab entirely.

What Osborn didn’t know was that Miguel had been developing something else on the side, mechanical arms connected directly to his brain through the spinal cord. And Norman had caused for them to fuse to his body and alter the way he thought when he had —in Miguel’s own words— betrayed him.

It was by sheer bad luck alone that you had been there to witness your father take the life of his best friend. And it was that moment in time when your own brain had altered to an entirely different path. The fear running so deeply and bitterly frosted through your veins had electrified your entire body. Like thousands of volts of electricity right through your spine.

The feeling didn’t compliment your heartbreak well, heartbreak that felt more like your heart thickening and growing weighted in your chest. Instead of the familiar twinge of betrayal and hurt there was only a sinking feeling, your heart like lead as it sunk slowly through your chest into the gaping pit in your stomach.

And every moment following had been worst than the last, as Neon Widow— the defender of Nueva York you had to swallow your ache and push your feelings aside to uphold the mantle you had taken up. The city needed you, the people needed you… all you needed— was your father. But it was not meant to be.

You’ve had a few close calls with him, every once in awhile he’ll get close to unmasking you and that risk drives every last bit of fight you had to prevent that. If he couldn’t see an end to your battle in which he’d either reveal your identity or kill you then he’d retreat.

You figured he was so intent on taking the mask off your face because you had faked your death as his daughter, and he wholeheartedly believed Neon Widow had killed her. He thought you as your hero persona murdered you as his one and only child.. the light and purpose of his entire life.

Maybe a small part of you felt remorse for his pain.. but… after you witnessed him kill a man and become something so vile and cruel you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out you were Neon Widow. His enemy.

And every time you think back to it your already broken down and tired heart aches a bit more.

You just couldn’t stand to see him be someone he was not, the young and naive little girl within still hiding behind barbed and thick defenses believes in her loving heart that her father is still in there somewhere. The more matured and grown part of you reasons that he had been part of criminal rings and the wrong side of the world since you were young. Just not with you.

And there was a part inside of you alongside that little girl that yearned for her father. That yearned and begged for love so deeply that she was blind to the many arching pathways and dark corners that abide within love.

But you were not so disadvantaged anymore. And you weren’t stupid either. So, whilst sometimes you wished to entertain that innocent little girl you knew first and foremost that your job as Neon Widow was to protect the people. Above all else.

Miguel willed a tentacle from his back to hurl a car your way, your senses tingled as you ducked backwards into a back handspring to avoid it. When you straightened and jumped back up your senses tingled again— he was right on top of you, and you weren’t quick enough to react as his tentacle gripped your throat and lifted you off the ground. He reared it back and threw you with the night of a god into a nearby cafe. The glass window shattering to pieces as you went right through it and several tables within before you tumbled to a stop against the far wall.

When your senses tingled again you jumped backwards and stuck to the wall, a car crashed into the wall you were just against with a heavy impact. The metal crushing in on itself and the windows shattering.

You show a web from your wrist to the building outside and swung back out onto the street, only to be met with another tentacle at your throat. This time he slammed your back hard against the brick wall of the building you’d just attached your web to.

And you grunted as the breath in your legs was forced out with a cough, the impact made your head jerk back and hit the brick roughly. An unfortunate consequence of the fight that made you dizzy and disoriented— enough for Miguel to peel your mask off your face.

And he froze as the mechanical claws of his added appendage tightened around your throat. You grunted with a wince, wrenching your eyes shut before you were squinting them open and staring directly into your father’s.

“[Y/Name]?” He murmured brokenly, more so when he saw the blood gushing from the lacerations on your face. Injuries that he put there unknowing you as Neon Widow were his daughter.

“Dad.” You choked back.

“I-I.. I thought you-you were dead mi vida.” You watched as his hand rose and just before it connected to your face you were suddenly free falling backwards. Strange streaks of light flying past you before you were thrown out of the dizzying array of colors and rushing lights.

You found yourself in a room as opposed to the street you had been on seconds prior, the room was wide and large. With a high ceiling and —as you stood and looked around— several panels of technology.

Your senses tingling made you spin around as the sound of some kind of whirring conveyer erupted in the otherwise silent room. And you watched as a panel above— now revealed as a platform, slowly began to lower. And as it got low enough for you to see on top of it you saw your father there. The fear and hurt in your chest burned for all of threes seconds before it was snuffed out as you noticed what he wore

Instead of the familiar black jumpsuit with a matching trench coat, this man wore a red and blue spider suit, just like yours but if the colors were inverted and slightly different.

And you quirked a brow when he looked to you with the same curious, horrified expression.

“[Y/Name]?”

“Dad?”

—

a/n: kinda hate the ending but oh well lol, it might’ve changed a touch like right in the middle and there’s also a small possibility that it doesn’t make sense how you discovered him but it’s 3 in the damn morning so it’s unedited and i’m more interested in going to sleep :p but hope you enjoyed anyway! <3

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #miguel o’hara #platonic reader #miguel x daughter reader #x daughter!reader #daughter reader #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #platonic imagine #x teen!reader

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romanarose · 11 months

Text

Gross Reality

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader

Join my tag list!

Triple Frontier Masterlist

800 Words

Summary: You are on your period and feel disgusting, Santi isn't phased.

Content Warnings: BODILY FLUIDS, all the bodily fluids. This fic is just me being self-indulgent because I'm feeling disgusting on my period today. Breif reference to butt stuff bc it's me. But mostly, if bodily fluids like puke and shit gross you out, keep going but I know this is the reality for many people who get periods.

A/N: In my head, this takes place in a lil universe of several of my Santi fics, including the one I did with Dolli, Honest Mistake, and but more importantly another Santi period fic I referenced in this fic, Santi With a Reader on Her Period.

****************

Santi Claus: Hey babe, you wanna come over today? The new Spider-verse movie is on Disney plus, we can refuel your fanfiction inspiration 👀or inspiration 👀 for other things 👀

Benny’s Hot Friend: Can’t, busy sitting on the toilet.

Santi realized, again, he needed to change his girlfriends name from what he had drunkenly put it in as months ago at Will’s engagement party.

Santi Claus: … just sitting there?

Benny’s hot friend: No, dumbass

Santi Claus: Did you get distracted watching tik tok for an hour again?

Benny’s Hot friend: NO! Im on my period and it’s day two and everything is fucking awful and I wanna die and I think I’m going to on this toilet

Santi Claus: Cramps?

Benny’s Hot Friend: Shitting, Santi. Shitting. I’ve bled through my tampons after 30 minuets and i'm sick of it and I keep needing to shit and it’s disgusting and I’m disgusting and I’m just free bleeding over the toilet and shitting when need because I can’t trust my farts ARE YOU HAPPY

Santa Claus is typing

Santi Claus is typing

Santi was very carefully plotting his next words.

Santi Claus: Amor, have you eaten today?

Benny’s Hot Friend: NO I HAVEN'T EATEN TODAY SANTI IF YOU MUST ASK AND I HAVEN'T HAD ANY CAFFEINE EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he’d gotten sick of your shit. It wasn’t that long ago that you happen woken up on top of him with a surprise early period, bleeding all over your new boyfriend who you hadn’t even farted around, and now, although you were more secure, you still worried you’d come across as gross and bitchy and he was over it. Your periods were horrible, the first 2-3 days at least. Dejected, you clean yourself up but only to go get more pain medicine and plot yourself back down on the toilet.

Another round of cramps came and pretty soon you could add tears and puke to the list of fluids exiting you, ready to just get into the bathtub and cry when you felt your hair being held back and you look to your side to see Santi, eyes concerned and worried, but not disturbed.

“Do you need a hospital, mi vida?”

You shake your head. “No, tummy just hurts.”

Not deterred, Santi holds your hair and rubs your stomach as you empty into the trashcan until the pain subsided enough to try taking a pill again. Dutifully, Santi cleaned up the trash can and your face before guiding you up rinse your mouth out with mouth wash, all while muttering oft praises and encouragement. ‘There we go, let it out’ ‘Do you feel better? Bien.’ ‘Doing good, just spit it out now’

“Santi, I’m sorry, this is so gross-”

“Oh hush. This is far from the worst I’ve seen.”

“Saw worse in the military?”

“No- well, yeah, but I was thinking about the time Benny called me after getting food poisoning from Taco Bell and I had to play big brother while Will was out of town.”

“Yeah” You pant, stomach hurting. “I’ve had to deal with him sick too. He’s a bigfucking baby. Now can you please get out, I need to shit.”

Santi scoffed at that. “You think I don’t shit? I shit all day, three times before lunch-”

“Yeah, you should get that checked out”

“-I’m not phased. I’ve had my finger in your ass, I can handle what comes out of it.”

Finally, you giggle, smiling at him as he sat at the tub edge. “Okay, your funeral.” You bent over in pain again, wondering what the fuck you did to deserve this nonsesnese every month and what you did to deserve to deserve such a loving boyfriend. You wanted to marry this pain in your ass, marry him so hard. He talks to you while you take care of business whipping your face when you get the cold sweats

“Santi, I love you but you’ve gotta get outta here while I clean up.”

He chuckles, but concedes. “Okay, I brought over chinese food-”

“Oh FUCK YEAH”

“-and coffee”

“FFFFFUUUCCKKK YEEEAAHHH”

“I’ll get it ready in the kitchen when you’re done”

He does as promised and you begin to clean up when you get a ding on your phone. You didn’t realize it was Santi’s until it was too late, and you saw it. No, he wasn’t cheating. No, he wasn’t talking shit. It was the last text you sent him and you saw what your name was on the screen.

Benny’s Hot Friend.

“Santiago Garcia!” You stand in the kitchen with his phone, fully dressed but your hair clinging to your face from sweat. “Wanna explain my contact name?”

He looks confused, then his eyes widen and he stops plating your food. Muneca, listen, I can explain-”

“BENNY’S HOT FRIEND?!” But you were smiling.

He starts to back away, hands raised in defense. “I said you were hot!”

“Did you forget my name that night?”

“Honey, I had like 8 beers and I’m a short king! I was drunk!”

Playfully, you run at Santi, threatening to bleed on him again.

***************

Anyway, shout out to my Peeps in the whorefully yours discord! we all go there and complain about our periods bc they suck. Mine arent THAT bad, I mostly had the shits and the excessive bleeding and I do just sit on the toilet sometimes but I know other people who throw up from the pain.

Your pain is real, and you deserve someone to take care of you

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiagogarcia reader #x reader #santiago garcia reader #fem!reader #santiago garcia fem reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier reader #sick fic #sic fic

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 1 year

Text

Weak

Pairing : More of a platonic Miguel O' Hara X Reader

Genre : Angst

Summary : Miguel hates feeling weak, something that you understand more than anyone else.

Request/story idea by: @quimerathetraveler

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

( A/N: I’m trying different personalities to see whatever works with his character best, lemme know what ya’ll think. )

Miguel's eyes dart all over the area.

He's injured, badly. A deep gash is crossed over his ribs, and not even the spray supplied by his suit for emergencies is doing him much good.

On top of that, he's exhausted, years of taking care of the multiverse having caught up to him.

" Boss, we got hi- Oh, no." The voice of one of the spider woman who he's come to help speaks as she notices his injury.

He's hunched over, holding his side whilst taking rough deep breaths. He feels vulnerable, hates having everyone' eyes on him.

" Boss, we should get you help!-" MJ calls, taking her mask off.

" No. I'm fine. Bring the anomaly to HQ, I'll get there myself."

MJ is visibly distraught by his words, but does what he says, not wanting to face whatever negative reaction he could bring up in his pain.

As she disappears, he doubles over, nearly forgetting that Jessica and you are at the scene as well.

Jessica sighs deeply before reacting.

" Miguel, maybe we should help. I doubt you'd be able to get back by yourself-"

He glares from the corner of his eye at her.

" I can do it, just g-"

" No you can't. "

Now his eyes shift to you.

Admittedly, he doesn't know you really well, even though your powers are the only ones that are similar to his. You have talons, venomous teeth and superhuman hearing and sight as well. He's barely ever spoken to you before though.

" I-"

" Don't argue with me. I'll jab you in your wound if you're going to be a baby about it. " You scoff, your eyes showing disinterest as you move to help him.

He glares at you, but it doesn't seem to deter you in the slightest.

He's not necessarily surprised to. You've been through a lot in your own universe, the horrors you had to face giving you a pass without doubt into the spider team. You're physically not one of the strongest, but you're fearless, making you one of the stronger ones of the team anyway. It would take a lot more than his glare to shake you.

He can't help but feel puzzled and surprised as you lift his arm over your shoulder. You sync both of your watches, and soon enough you're tearing a gateway with your claws back into universe 2099.

Everyone is surprised when the both of you step into HQ, Jessica having gone back on her own.

Miguel hates the feeling he gets when everyone shares worried glances, them never having seen their boss so vulnerable before.

You must've noticed.

" What? Did none of you ever seen someone injured?" You call out roughly.

Most of the spiders turn their heads. All except Hobie, who gives Miguel a blank look as he so often does before nodding at you.

Hobie and you get along well, the only difference being that Hobie creates a lot of trouble and has quite a big mouth, whilst you refrain in the back. The calm before the storm.

Eventually, you carry him to the infirmary, and help him sit down on one of the beds.

" Will you be okay or do you need me to call a medic?" You ask, creating distance between the two of you again as you step back, leaning against a wall.

" I'll be fine." He says gruffly.

You nod, but don't move away.

He glances at you again, ignoring the sudden spinning in his head.

" What? You can go." He pushes.

" I'm waiting for you to pass out. I'll call a medic after." You tell him nonchalantly, crossing your arms over one another.

He sighs, knowing you're right. He needs help. He can't do it by himself this time.

He doesn't want any more people to see him like this though.

" Can you.... help me?" He asks, looking away with an embarrassing pink dust on his cheeks.

Your eyes widen, surprise evident before they harden again, and you nod.

" I've never done this on someone else other than myself though."

You don't say anything else as you wordlessly get to work.

He tends to forget that you've been alone for a very long time before you joined the team.

You stitch up his wounds carefully, and honestly quite messy. He still rather has this than having more people see him like this.

When you're done, you run a careful finger over the stitches to make sure they're secure before stepping away.

" This is the best I can do. Good luck with it." You tell him, going back to your stoic demeanor.

You turn to leave, not expecting a reply, when he grasps your wrist with his right hand.

You tense in response, not being used to physical contact. Upon noticing it, he lets go.

" Thank you.."

You glance at him, your eyes not betraying your emotions this time as you nod.

" Yeah... Don't get used to it."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst #mcu fanfic #spiderman across the spider verse #spider-man 2099

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biblio-smia · 1 year

Text

scrapes and bruises — three.

masterlist | requests are open!

pairing: spiderman!ethan landry x gender neutral reader

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.] [five.]

ethan landry lost his punctuality with the spider-powers he wielded. it was hard to imagine that the boy who showed up at least 45 minutes late to any event once had a reputation for arriving 5 minutes early, at all times, prior to the additional job he'd taken on.

and so his heart raced and adrenaline pumped throughout his body as ethan swung from building to building, deterred by disasters he couldn't help but prevent. ethan swung until he got to a place he could safely unmask, and then he ran as fast as his long legs could take him.

the class was silent, save for the booming voice of your professor. the peace of the class was interrupted with the echoing slam of the door as ethan raced in, out of breath. before the professor could say anything, ethan was apologizing, slowly backing into his seat next to you.

"ethan!" you nag as soon as he sits down and your professor resumes his lesson. "you're an hour late!"

"which means we still have an hour left," ethan grins, smile faltering upon seeing your expression. "glass half full?"

"i'm seriously gonna kill you," you say, shoving ethan's shoulder.

ethan winces and your face contorts in worry, leaning in closer.

"did you get in a fight?" you ask quietly. "did you get hurt?" worry is etched in your features as you examine ethan for any visible injuries.

"yeah, on the... i slammed into the door too hard..."

the worry drops on your face and you shove ethan again.

"ow!" ethan protests, though the developing bruise didn't hurt that bad.

"i took notes for you," you say, sliding over ethan's notebook (when did you grab that?) and a spare pen.

ethan leaned in quickly to peck your cheek, taking his notebook back gratefully.

"have i told you how amazing i think you are?" ethan opened up his notebook to the place where you stopped, scrawling down things as the professor said them.

"you can keep reminding me," you say, trying your best to fight back a smile.

ethan reached for his bag — only to realize it was not right next to him.

before ethan could groan, you placed his school bag in his lap at this point, you didn't even have to open your mouth to chastise him.

"i left my stuff at yours?" ethan asked, already knowing the answer.

"mm-hmm," you nod and ethan can't decipher the expression on your face.

ethan gets out his laptop and places it in front of him, opening it up to reveal a sticky note on the corner of the screen.

have a good day baby :)

it was your handwriting and ethan looked over to see you avoiding his eyes.

"you were supposed to see that when you weren't right next to me," you mumbled.

ethan could only grin, leaving the note on despite it blocking a portion of his screen.

"i really don't think i tell you it enough," ethan started. "but you are seriously the best thing that's ever happened to me." his voice drips with sincerity and quiet vulnerability.

you're quiet for a few moments but you finally look at ethan and the softness in his warm brown eyes. you couldn't really contain your smile if you tried.

"you can't say things like that when i can't kiss you."

"i mean you could..." ethan trails off at the look you give him. "wait till after class?"

you laugh quietly and take his hand, and ethan almost sighs in relief. he really couldn't take you being mad at him. he looks at your intertwined hands and gives you the sweetest smile.

"pay attention," you chide, though you're smiling, too. "i don't want you to fall behind."

ethan nodded and he did as he was told. there you were, taking care of him over and over again. he could only hope that when it really mattered, he could do the same for you.

「 … 」

class ended quickly with the biggest distraction at your side. you collected your things and walked out hand-in-hand with ethan, knowing he'd reteach you anything you didn't quite grasp later.

ethan told you about his journey getting to class while the two of you walked to the courtyard; mindy wanted to meet up.

you stopped ethan just before exiting the building, pulling him to the side. "i have to go ask mr. sanders something real quick. go ahead?"

"you don't want me to go with you?" ethan asked with the slightest of pouts.

"i'll be quick," you pull ethan into a soft kiss. "plus, it'll be suspicious if we get there together."

ethan sighed a little dramatically, not wanting to let you go just yet. "okay," he said reluctantly, pulling you in for one more kiss before you headed in the opposite direction.

ethan arrived at the courtyard alone; he was the first one there and he didn't relax until he saw mindy approaching. ethan took a seat and she came over to greet him before taking one next to him.

but mindy was acting... strange. she was eyeing ethan like she does when she's about to start monologuing; which ethan did not need right now.

"so..." mindy began, and ethan knew she was about to attack. "have anything you'd like to share with me today, landry?"

shit. mindy knew something — but what?

"w-what are you talking about?" ethan stuttered, immediately cursing himself for being a terrible liar.

"you know... like any secrets you'd like to spill?"

oh, god. which one — spiderman or dating?

"n-no...?" ethan squeaked as mindy got closer, squinting her eyes at him.

"are you sure? because i know, ethan. i'm just waiting on your confession."

the alarm bells in ethan's head began to ring and the panic set in. spiderman or dating?

"i, um... i don't know, i mean, maybe you're jumping to conclusions—"

"i saw it with my own eyes!" mindy exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

spiderman or dating????

"i saw you two kiss!" mindy continued before pulling a face a disgust and ethan couldn't help the relief that washed over his body.

"oh, yeah, that—"

"so you do admit it!"

"well, yeah, we just— i mean, we—"

mindy smiled, placing a hand on ethan's shoulder. "relax, dude. i don't need the details. just happy to know i'm right," she smiled, then turned to wave at you, chad, anika, tara, and quinn, all approaching from various directions. "i won't say anything to anyone," mindy promised. and before ethan could thank her, mindy went on. "it's pretty obvious, though."

ethan blushed and tried to calm his face as you all gathered around, talking and catching up while you could. you were seated across from ethan, giving you the perfect opportunity to admire him under the sunlight.

eventually, ethan got a notification on his phone that made him leave in a hurry. your heart sank a little at his departure, but you knew things got active as the sun set. ethan caused a ripple effect and most of your friends said their goodbyes, too, promising to meet again next week; now, it was only you and chad left standing.

chad, being the good friend that he was, walked with you to your apartment. it wasn't a long trip but the sun was quickly setting and spiderman couldn't always keep an eye out for you (though he did, anyway).

"so, what do you think of him, anyway?" chad asked.

"hmm?"

"of spiderman?"

"pfft. spiderman. why would i be thinking of spiderman?" you weren't such a great liar yourself.

chad looked at you with a brow raised.

"you don't... think of spiderman?"

"no! why would i? he's just... spiderman, y'know?" you winced as your voice cracked.

chad crossed his arms. "you're acting weird."

"you're acting weird!"

"do you... know something?" chad asked carefully, not quite sure what to make of you.

"what? no, i don't know anything. do you know something?"

"you know, you can't just throw everything i say back to me," chad said. but he was persistent. "how about you tell me what you know and i'll tell you what i know."

"what? no way. i told you, i don't know anything—"

"not that ethan's spiderman?" chad asked knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

you were silent for a moment, shock clear on your face.

"you knew?"

chad nodded, smirk faltering as he realized he knew... before you.

"well, i kinda found out— i mean, it was a complete accident—"

"yeah," you nodded.

chad sighed, digging into his bag to try and fix his mistake. he handed you the key to ethan's apartment. "go... talk to him?"

"yeah," you repeated, taking the key.

chad sighed again, checking the time. "go. he should be home soon."

and you stood there, staring at the key, feelings of hurt rising in your throat that you couldn't quite explain, thinking about what to do now.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #scream x reader #scream #scream x you #scream 6 #scream vi #v writes #v + ethan #spiderman!ethan landry

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helloporcelain · 8 months

Text

Brûlant

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Gale/Astarion Rating: Explicit Tags: porn without plot, dubious consent, inappropriate use of mage hand, blowjob, rimming, frottage, blood drinking, handjob, jerking off with blood, sex pollen

Summary: “…Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.”

Read on AO3 if you prefer

It’s not the first time that Astarion’s thoughts linger too long on Gale. But it is the first time that the temptation to feed on him is truly born.

They’re at the goblin camp finishing off the last of their enemies when he notices the mage clutching his stomach. Stains mar Gale's usually pristine robe: vivid crimson mingling with golden embroidery and velvety plum fabric. Gale has never been injured to this extent before – and the smell of his blood is so insane that it takes Astarion a minute to actually register it as blood; it’s an unapologetic, scorching assault that stings his nostrils. It burns to breathe it in, like inhaling the acrid, heavy bite of smoke after lightning strikes the soil of the earth in a fury.

His curious gaze is clearly too obvious because Gale huffs at him. “Careful, Astarion. I'd exercise some self control if I were you. I'm fairly certain that indulging in my blood would lead to some rather disagreeable consequences for you."

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he sniffs, scrunching his nose up. “What the hells is wrong with your blood? The stench of it – it’s utterly disturbing.”

A wry smile crosses Gale’s lips even as he winces over his wounded abdomen.

“Perhaps the weave has granted me a natural act of defense. A deterrent to all creatures who might wish to devour me.”

"Well, it didn't do you any good here, did it?" Astarion drawls, playing his part of disinterest. "Consider me deterred, darling. A carrion crawler would be a treat compared to your freakish blood.” He tips his head backwards lazily towards the rest of the group fishing their arrows and swords out of fleshy goblin chests. “Somebody better tend to the soft little mage before he bleeds out.”

Gale clears his throat, maintaining his composure. “I can manage this just fine, thank you,” he insists. “The sooner we distance ourselves away from this fetid pile of corpses, the better.”

His bloodied form taunts Astarion the entire time as they get back on the trail, his head full with the noxious scent, pouding at the back of his skull – he barely contains the urge to shove Gale into Shadowheart so she can heal him, but the mage is too stubborn in making a show of how able he is. When they finally reach their home for the night, the group splits apart, and Astarion does his best to maintain some distance without coming across as too disturbed, even as Gale’s blood still accosts him in the air. With his feet aching from the long day, Astarion settles on a log and pulls out his arrows to wipe them clean of any lingering fleshy bits. Tav and Karlach start gleefully comparing all the stolen fruits of their labor they’ve gathered from the day as Wyll and Lae’zel hover over them to stake a claim on any well-crafted weapons. From the corner of his eye, Astarion sees Gale waving Shadowheart off, trying to step away to his tent, but her hand shoots out to pinch the fabric on his shoulders.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Shadowheart demands. “Let me see.”

“Ah, it’s just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t sort out myself.”

“Sit, Gale, or I might just have to tie you down.”

Gale’s face flushes at the idea, but he relents and settles down on the bench next to Astarion, who tightens his lips at the proximity of him. Get away from me, Astarion wants to snarl. The smell of Gale is— is horrible, it’s awful. And irritatingly fascinating. He focuses his attention on his arrows, fixating on making them completely spotless, ignoring the gooseflesh rising on his neck from the pungent scent filling his head.

Gale shrugs aside his blood-soaked robe. He doesn’t notice when it misses the bench and falls to the ground in a heavy crumple. But Astarion does.

Halsin pops up behind the two — he’s chosen to spend the night here, and Tav is eyeing him suspiciously fondly — towering over and eclipsing Astarion from their view. Gods, he is big – the sheer magnitude of the elf is staggering, leaving Astarion momentarily awestruck.

“Might I suggest an alternative?” Halsin asks. “I am a healer of some renown, if I may cast aside modesty for a moment.”

Shadowheart considers this, and amidst their back and forth (with Gale flitting his eyes between them and wondering when they’ll decide to finally heal him already!), Astarion snatches up the garment discreetly and slips away. He doesn’t know why he does this— he wants to say he’s been compelled! That some mysterious force is urging him to do this! But that would be a bold-faced fucking lie. No – there’s an even worse reason – something innate, something primal that guides him to steal the damn robe.

In the dim privacy of his tent, Astarion carefully unfurls Gale's bloodied cloak. He turns it over in his hands and presses his fingers into the wet fabric, the stains practically pulsing underneath his touch. He traces his fingers along the ridges and then raises them to his lips. Astarion’s throat goes dry. The smell of it sends a searing burn down his throat.

The idea of consuming the essence of magic itself is fucking tantilizing .

But he takes heed of Gale’s warning. The wizard is many things – a love-bruised, disgraced prodigy being one of them – but an exaggerator? Hmm. Perhaps not. The blood is probably (no, definitely) vile, and Astarion is in no mood to try a sample and contend with the potential of vomit and the subsequent clean up. Still, it doesn’t mean he can’t just… ponder it. Heat pools in Astarion’s stomach as he contemplates the way it would feel to have an inkling of the power living in Gale’s veins, to claim a fragment of it for himself.

His cock twitches when his mind inadvertently takes it a step further: how Gale might sound pinned under him, how he might arch and drool as Astarion fucks him into the ground. To shut Gale up for once and claim him , bent over, hands tied behind his back, neck stretched out..

It sends his mind into a tailspin, and Astarion knows he needs to go back out there and toss the dirty, unsightly thing back on the ground.

Instead, he brings the cloak up to his nose and holds it close, breathing it in. Astarion is near intoxicated from the razor-sharp scent of it alone, barely aware of what he’s doing as he stuffs a hand into his pants, grabbing at his length. His cock springs free from its confines, exposing itself to the cool air. He strokes up and down, working it to a full hardness, then he holds his breath. An intense idea overcomes him. What is wrong with his brain? Why is he doing this? No answers come to his mind as he wraps the fabric around his cock. His hips buck against it, cock drooling precum into the soft friction of the velvet, mixing in with the blood.

Astarion concentrates on staying quiet even with his tent being the furthest away from the others, what with the others still unpacking from the day and chattering about, but the sensation has him hissing. It becomes a mission: there’s urgency in the way he moves, anger even, to come as fast as he can. He arches into both hands and fucks into Gale’s cloak, struggling to keep his breath steady amidst the strange, charred scent that fills the air.

The sight of Gale’s blood coating around Astarion’s cock gets him off so fast that he’ll never have the gall to admit it, and he allows himself a quiet grunt as his cum soaks into his fabric wrapped fist. When his orgasm dies down, Astarion bites out a humorless chuckle. Well , he thinks flatly, I really need a bath now .

He also somehow really wants to eat still, he realizes, his stomach churning despite dining on bugbears and goblins.

Astarion remembers some boar tracks on the trail east of the camp and doesn’t spare another second – he grabs the cum soiled cloak and throws it into his sack, along with a change of clothes and a fresh jar for any extra blood. Not that he ends up needing it — Astarion is particularly vicious about his meal, for not only does he drain the boar completely dry, but he makes an utter mess of it too: ripping apart its neck and clawing its chest open for no reason at all, other than that he simply can .

An hour later, he emerges from the woods, freshly bathed and belly bloated. The camp is quiet now, save for the sounds of an owl hooting nearby and the gentle licks of the campfire’s flames. Everyone has gone to bed, eager to start a new day. Everyone except for Gale, who’s tracing his steps in circles to find his missing cloak. It's no ordinary cloak; it's his absolute favorite one, he can’t help but grumble to himself.

"Did someone really just toss it away?”

Astarion skulks up to him from the shadows, causing Gale to lurch with surprise, hand flying to his chest. “Oh!”

“I washed it for you.” With zero grace, Astarion throws the cloak at Gale, damp, but now clean of cum and blood.

Gale catches the garment, eyes furrowed as he untangles it with delicate care. His eyes scan it over to see if Astarion has perhaps messed with it – which, well…

“You know, I really could’ve just used my magic to clean it.”

“I was gagging at the foul odor, waiting for those two to finish with you, so it was either that or burn it in the fire. Gods know I would not be able to handle you drone on about how you missed such an antique article of clothing.”

“I’m going to go ahead and choose to believe that you were just being uncharacteristically thoughtful, Astarion, so for that, I will thank you.” Gale waves his hand to the bottle of wine nestled up against the log. “Care to join me for a drink? Tav swiped this vintage red and it feels far too selfish for me to finish the bottle myself.”

Astarion purses his lips. “Why not,” he replies, grabbing a goblet and letting Gale fill it halfway with the wine. “What’s so special about this cloak anyway? Surely not because it’s in fashion.”

Gale proceeds to yap on and on about why the cloak is so near and dear to his heart, how his mother had painstakingly sewn it herself, and Astarion actually sits there and listens to the whole thing while he sharpens his dagger with a whetstone in between sips from his chalice. The worst realization of the night is not that he needs to keep his distance from an injured, bloodied Gale from now on (lest his brain gets carried away with the notion of devouring and fucking Gale again), but that Astarion finds him… endearing?

How twee.

✼✼

Tonight, Gale cooks entirely without any magic.

Karlach and Lae’zel return from hunting with a bountiful sack of rothe meat, fresh for the hearty stew that Gale intends to prepare for their supper.

“You'll see,” Halsin tells him, igniting the fire beneath the cauldron as Gale extracts an assortment of spices and herbs from a weathered wooden box. “To appreciate the experience of cooking with only your bare hands – without any arcane assistance - it's a fresh perspective, a new joy.”

“I believe you,” Gale acknowledges, tenderizing the meat with a small mallet. “That’s not to say that I completely understand the appeal of taking the longer route. Work smarter, not harder, eh? Multitasking is a wondrous thing! Back in my tower, I could have the pot simmering, a pin kneading dough for my bread rolls, and savor a delightful cup of earl grey – all without worrying about keeping a watchful eye on it.”

Halsin smiles, rising from the floor. “Well, here, you are not alone. There are many eyes to assist you.” He proceeds to enlist some of the others to help out with chopping vegetables, setting up plates and silverware on makeshift tables. Astarion is relaxed and reading as this goes on, taking in the last of the day’s sunrays. (Warmth hasn’t lost its novelty – it never will.)

The rest of the group buzzes as everyone waits for Gale to work his culinary magic. Tav can’t help but hover over Gale’s shoulder with curiosity (‘ The onions I found weren’t too moldy?’ they ask), asking how everything is coming together and Gale is so enthusiastic about it all that his big eyes seem to just sparkle with delight — and ugh – isn’t he just adorable . Astarion buries his nose back into his book – some terrible pulp erotica he’s picked up somewhere – not at all interested in the commotion around him.

When supper's finally prepared, the group gathers with hungry anticipation. Moans of delight fill the air as they all dig into their meal, and Gale looks particularly satisfied with himself. “You’re right, Halsin,” he says, holding his bowl on his lap, surveying them all. “Something special about tonight’s dinner indeed.”

“It is acceptable,” Lae’zel muses, staring thoughtfully into her quickly emptying bowl. Wyll grunts with admiration, his mouth full of food.

“Why even bother trying to be the greatest wizard of all time?” Shadowheart jokes. “You’d make a fine house husband with the way we’re all fawning over this meal. I mean, Halsin is practically in an otherworldly state right now,” and she nods at Halsin who’s finished his meal so quickly that he’s just sitting there with a satisfied smile.

Karlach shoves in a mouthful of potatoes with gusto. She looks at Astarion with a sorrowful shake of her head. “Aw, Astarion, it’s too bad you vampires don’t need to eat, you’re missing out on some culinary genius here.”

He looks up from the pages of his book and lifts an eyebrow at the mess on the corner of Karlach's lips. “Well, I can still enjoy the flavor of something, if you’re curious about that; though I have a taste for the luxurious – and a meal made with the leftovers of near rotten produce is not exactly something that appeals to me. But! You know. I’m sure it’s very good. To a plebian without a refined palette.”

Gale offers a good-natured rebuttal. “I admit, I don’t exactly have the farmer’s market available to me right now, but I think I’ve done an all right job with what I was given.”

“Oh come off it Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in ages.” She points accusingly at Astarion with her spoon. “And nothing about you is luxurious right now,” she says, making a face at the word, “You’ve been wearing the same doublet for the last week.” Astarion scoffs and straightens up in embarrassment at her comment. “Try it. I dare you to try and tell me it is not fucking delicious .” She grabs the book from his hands, squints her eyes at the cover, and pushes her bowl towards him.

Gale looks at him somewhat expectantly with those damned puppy eyes and the entire party is now goading him to try it, so— Astarion decides he’ll humor them. It’ll be funny when he’s correct about the food being perfectly average.

“Fine.”

He takes a spoonful from Karlach’s bowl and brings it to his lips. The moment the stew touches his tongue, his flat expression changes and his eyes widen. It’s an unexpected delight. It’s savory and rich and perfectly seasoned and damn it, where did he learn to cook like this? In truth, Astarion hasn’t thought about “real food” in so many years. In the moments where he was at a tavern scoping for victims or entertaining Cazador’s guests at a ball, it never crossed his mind to indulge just for the sake of flavor – it would’ve felt like a cruel, pointless delusion to partake in when he was so starved of blood.

And though the stew does nothing to sate his true hunger; it’s a bittersweet joy, a tugging reminder that at one time, he could’ve been here as another version of himself, filling himself up on a meal made with such careful tenderness. The corners of his lips curl upward as he takes another bite, and then another. Gale, who’s watching him with anticipation, practically beams with satisfaction.

“Was I wrong!?” Karlach exclaims, slapping at her thighs with enthusiasm.

"You’ve forgotten a key part of this meal," Gale says, reaching over to the wooden trunk acting as a serving table. “You have got to try it with some of the bread, the crunch makes it a perfect little bite.” He reaches for the loaf, slicing a portion for Astarion. But before he’s done with it, the blade slips from his fingers, nicking his thumb in the process. He tsks, and blood quickly wells up from the cut, a droplet falling onto the ground as he brings it up to his mouth to suck the rest away.

“Ah, and this is why magic is a man’s best tool, in and out of the kitchen.”

Gale wipes his finger on his pants and swaps to the other hand to hand Astarion the piece of bread, but Astarion is stiff and locked onto the sight of the petite ruby droplets rising from the tip of his thumb. He blinks, and Gale looks down at his hand, then raises his eyes back to meet Astarion’s. When he opens his mouth to say something – no doubt something unhelpful and insufferable – Astarion cuts him off.

"It isn’t that good,” he snaps, not letting the look on Gale’s face stop him from getting up from his seat and slamming the bowl down on the wooden trunk. “I think it's time I go get my real dinner.” Astarion needs to eat something, anything . With heavy, tense steps, he storms off, disappearing into the forest.

He can’t recall later how many carcasses he leaves out there in the woods, or even what kind of animals had the misfortune of being found by him — perhaps some rabbits — but he remembers that he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, until the only feeling that remains is a piercing ache deep within his belly. That’s one way to keep your appetite in check, he supposes.

✼✼

In all honesty, Astarion’s not even hungry. But he figures it can’t hurt to eat one last big meal before they make it to Grymforge and into the Shadow-Cursed lands where they’ll be stuck mucking about in for Gods know how long.

He slips away from camp to skulk around the caves near them, unfamiliar with the territory and wary of all the strange little creatures hopping about. He scopes over the area to ensure there aren’t any poisonous spores floating in the air and wracks his mind over his mental notes to remember what animals Tav had told him to avoid out here, and that’s when he smells it: a plump spider nestled away in a small cavern.

Sure, Astarion is used to mammals, having sworn off the idea of insects completely since his newfound freedom, but it smells positively mouthwatering, and there’s no rules, no person, to tell him what he can and cannot eat – or do – anymore.

He considers the spider, looking over it not once, not twice but three times just to consider its viability, and he decides that it is perfectly suitable for a meal. He descends on the creature without any resistance whatsoever – it seems like it is sleeping, or sluggish, but Astarion can hardly question it as he drinks from it, mind clouding over from the craving he has for it. The spider’s ichor is a peculiar blend of something sweet and milky and almost sour, and Astarion drains it all from the creature until it shrinks away to a withered husk of its former glory.

There’s a mild cramp at first as the blood courses through him slowly, and he chalks it up to simply overindulging – he’s gotten somewhat used to gorging himself over the past few weeks, like a youngling set loose in a kitchen full of sweets. But with each passing step, Astarion feels an unfamiliar, searing warmth spreading from his stomach, a sensation that grows increasingly intense. He swallows through his prickly throat, trying to focus on his steps to navigate his way back.

He’s hot, and gods, it is a foreign sensation, is this how it normally feels? He doesn’t remember. But better question is – why is he so fucking hot? Astarion starts to burn up as if scorching needles are being threaded through his veins. The heat is centered in his face at first, making his pallid skin flush with a ruddy hue as it snakes through his chest, twisting through his tendons; then, it is everywhere inside, the worst of it contained within flames coursing down his thighs, threatening to send him sprawling to the ground. The pain coils through his body, the intensity of it rising higher and higher as he trips over the tangled roots of plant life.

Astarion makes it to the camp, but just barely.

He stumbles back in a daze, mouth fuzzy as if stuffed to the brim with cotton, eyes delirious as he searches the camp for the tiny basin Shadowheart found earlier to dunk himself in. I just need a bath, he thinks dizzily, a nice, cold bath.

With hazy vision and a throbbing head, he finally spots the tub, hidden in a little corner around the camp. There's a tiny moment of relief as he hobbles toward it. His hands tremble as he gets closer, ready to dive into it even with his clothes on. But as Astarion approaches, his focus sharpens, and he realizes that someone is already in it.

“Get out,” Astarion demands.

The water swishes as Gale swivels his head around to look at him. He raises an eyebrow. “I took you as a man with more manners than that, Astarion. I only just got in and I would greatly appreciate not being rushed.”

“I’m not joking around, Gale, get out of the tub,” he says, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’s always lamented the lack of warmth in his body, but now it just seems like a particularly cruel joke that he feels like he’s been set on fucking fire. Astarion lets out a sound of frustration as his hands lunge into the water, unable to wait for Gale, and not caring that it's warm. His movements are frenzied as he splashes water onto his overheated face over and over, gasping as the liquid does nothing to soothe his skin.

Gale leans back with a baffled expression as Astarion’s fingers plunge around in the water. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. “Shit,” Astarion says, wiping his face dry with his sleeve. He flicks his eyes back at Gale, actually taking in the sight of him sitting in the tub (the sight of his soft chest, his surprisingly broad arms) and he stumbles backwards when his cock twitches and his stomach lurches at the scent of him.

He smells so good: a whirl of black tea, mugwort, hints of acacia, woody and clean – “Shit.”

He runs his shaking hands over his face and looks away, breathing deeply to try to calm himself down. To try and make sense of the savage feeling building underneath the thin barrier of his embarrassment.

“Something is wrong with you. What in the hells did you do, Astarion?”

Gale’s voice brings him back to looking at him, but thank Gods — Astarion’s not sure if it is magic, or if his sense of time is off or if Gale is simply more dexterous than he seems, because he’s out of the tub and fully dressed in his robe, adjusting the collar back into its proper position.

“I –” Astarion scoffs, indignant at the idea that this is a result of his own actions. “I didn’t do anything. I had dinner. That’s– that’s all I did.”

“And what exactly, pray tell, did you eat? Were you mindful of all the animals that Tav said you could feed from?”

“Of course I was, I’m not a nitwit.” But he hesitates when Gale squints his eyes at him. “I found a spider.”

“A spider? Is that a frequent occurrence for you? Imbibing on the blood of arachnids? I admit, I lack extensive knowledge about vampire diets, but it doesn't seem to be particularly suitable –” “It smelled good ,” Astarion replies defensively, his voice cracking under an increasing sense of panic. “So I drank from it. As I am wont to do.”

“And how did it taste? What did it smell like?”

“It was – oh, I don’t know, milky? Bizarre in hindsight, but it was strangely appetizing. And — come to think of it, it didn’t even stir when I approached it.”

Something goes off in Gale’s brain and his eyes open with understanding. "Succubi spittle perhaps," Gale remarks as he scrutinizes Astarion's increasingly haggard appearance. "If my understanding of the fluid is correct, it's something one should be very wary of.”

“Get to the point, Gale.” “You consumed tainted blood from a spider that was likely dying from the effects of succubi spittle. That is… very bad.”

“Clearly – what’s going to happen to me?” Astarion chokes out, taking a step towards Gale. There’s a furious, irritated rash blooming now all over his skin, going down his torso and disappearing under the trousers that are stretched tight against his body. “I feel like I’m going to rip my skin off.”

Gale doesn’t seem nearly as alarmed as he should be as he cups his chin with his fingers and thinks. “The longer this spittle is in your body, the sooner you are bound to deteriorate. From what I’ve read, you’ll eventually find yourself reduced to hallucinatory, almost euphoric state, and if you’ve consumed a high enough concentration of it – you could move on to causing bodily harm to yourself, perhaps even death; which could happen through a few methods, such as incessant scratching or–”

"Enough!" Astarion silences Gale with a wave of his hand. “I’ve heard enough! I'm going to Shadowheart.”

Astarion’s stomach twists and turns as he moves past him with urgency, but the mage’s fingers shoot out like a bolt, wrapping firmly around his wrist. The touch sends an electrifying surge through his body and straight to his cock, making him recoil from Gale in shock.

“Fuck,” Astarion hisses. He glances down at his pants and can see them straining. And if Gale notices, well, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’m afraid she can’t help you with this – well – unless… Ahem, allow me to clarify. There isn’t an antidote for this particular affliction, not in the form of a potion or spell, anyway. But you’re lucky, the cure is quite simple. You need to…”

Gale chooses his next words carefully.

“Well, normally, you could bed someone and be rid of it. So, essentially, in a manner of speaking, you need to flush it out of your body immediately.”

Astarion narrows his eyes, letting the insinuation sink into his brain.

“I see. Well. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Right.” Gale steps to the side, scratching at his head.

An agonized groan escapes from Astarion on his second step. The world swirls around him, and he loses balance, crumpling to his knees. His arms tremble as he tries to maintain his precarious balance. “This can't possibly be how I meet my end! This is far too pitiful for me."

“My fanged friend,” Gale bends down slightly to grasp his shoulders, unaware that his touch makes his cock pulse with precum. His voice stirs something fizzy in Astarion’s stomach, his brain swoops, and he can’t help it – he moans . Astarion tries to push the invading thoughts out of his brain, but they beat back at him, filling his mind with images of ripping away Gale’s clothes, shoving him into the ground, stretching him out –

"No need for the dramatics. I can help you back to your tent, but after that, you’ll need to muster the strength to combat this condition."

Never in his life – even throughout the endless forms of torture he’s endured under Cazador’s hands – has Astarion ever felt like his cock might rot and fall off, but he’s certain he’ll have to prepare a eulogy for it now. It takes everything in him to not reach out and grab Gale to ravage his mouth, his stomach twisting in agony at suppressing his urges. With desperation, he tugs at Gale's robes.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

He heaves a cough, and then a deafening ringing weighs down in his ears. Gale’s lips are moving but there’s nothing coming out of them. Astarion’s mind glazes over so quickly that he’s hardly aware of being carried back to his bedroll, where he ends up sprawled on his back. Throbbing, white-hot lust singes through his body and coats deep in his core as he sucks in rapid breaths of air. His eyes clench shut in agony when the unbearable itch moves through his body and settles on his thighs.

“Astarion,” he hears Gale’s voice floating back into his head. He sounds so far away, but Astarion knows he’s right there, because a hand gently smacks at his cheek. He flinches as another wave rolls through his body at the touch. “I’ve brought you to your tent. Can you open your eyes? I should take my leave, though it would be very uncomfortable for me to explain to the others how you died.”

“Died? Don’t you dare leave! No, no, stay and help me.”

“I’ll remind you again, Astarion, you can’t be healed of this, you need to–”

“I heard you the first – gods, ugh – the first time.”

His eyes flutter open to see Gale sitting beside him, tense with worry. Astarion doesn’t register it, because suddenly, everything is so much slower around him. Everything in his vision dips, and then he only notices the wizard’s eyes swirling like rich brandy and dissolved sugar cubes so bright they could burn a hole in his body. There is a whole galaxy swimming and humming in Gale’s chest and all Astarion can think of is how he wants to plunge himself into it, to wrap his hands around the magic nestled deep inside and to squeeze until Gale comes undone under him and —

“ Oh ,” Astarion breathes, eyes drooping into glassy little crescents. Well, if this is how he dies, Astarion thinks, this is how he dies. A shame that he’ll never get to plunge a stake through Cazador’s chest. “Death is so beautiful.”

“...Precisely how much of this spider’s blood did you consume?” Gale asks, his hands brushing Astarion’s hair off his soaked forehead. The touch makes the unbearable, painful heat in his body squeeze around him like a heavy chain. “You’re scorching. You could give Karlach a run for all her gold.”

“All of it,” he barks out a harsh laugh. “Of course. Of course you drank all of the tainted spider blood. And of course – I'm the one that has the misfortune of being the only one awake when you come back from feeding on said spider...” Gale trails off, shaking his head.

"I loathe," Astarion grits out as he aggressively scratches at his neck, his long, sharp nails scraping vivid red lines under his jaw, “wasting a good meal. Wouldn’t you know something about that?”

Gale stays silent, taking in a deep breath of frustration as he conjures a spell and casts it on Astarion. His arms drop sharply to his sides and his eyes shift to Gale’s face in confusion and anger.

“Clearly, you cannot be trusted to be in charge of your own limbs right now.” There is an agonizingly long pause before Gale sighs, and continues, “And yes, you’re right, I can't fault you. I do know what it means to quell your hunger, lest the maddening thirst overwhelms you.”

Astarion’s eyes grow wider and wider until his mouth falls wide open into the most feverish smile. “A lesson in overindulgence, slow down on your next decadent meal of boots, wizard…”

His face drops.

“Wait, I’m dead. I’m dead?”

“You are not dead.”

“I’m dying, then?”

"While I'm certainly no cleric, I can safely say you’re not dying – but you are in a state of delirium."

“Okay. Okay, if I’m not dead,” he says, blinking up at Gale, trying to get rid of the stars speckling in his eyes. “Then you can help me purge this from my body – and I do mean help.”

“Help…” He stares down at Astarion with a look of disbelief. “Help, help? Ha! Yes, you are definitely out of your mind.”

“You’ve only made this worse by touching me and– and smelling so good – only a buffoon would touch the person in literal heat. My body has decided that it – needs you.”

“I,” Gale starts and stops, his mouth settling into a thin, mortified line.

“What good is a mage who doesn’t make use of his magic in times of true need?” Astarion babbles. “I can’t do it myself, and you don’t have to either, just. Let a mage hand do it. It’s not like it’s you’re actually touching me – we wouldn’t want that – but this way we can get it out without provoking me into a frenzied itching fit."

“I suppose I can make some concessions and — help you. We are both grown men, after all, and this is an emergency. However, we will be having a long chat about your lack of self preservation later,” Gale warns. He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but then he conjures up the mage hand, and Astarion strains his head to glance in its direction. His vision corrects itself a few times, eyes crossing under his half open lids until he sees spectral hands, glowing a dim sapphire, poised and ready for its next command. Its cool fingers brush up his thigh, the vague touch causing little pin pricks to shudder down his spine, stopping at the top of his waistband.

“Err — are you ready?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Astarion hisses.

His head feels too heavy for him to lift up anymore, and it falls back onto the pillow with a thud. The itch in his body is so extreme that he doesn’t even care how pathetic he looks right now, but a voice in the back of his mind shouts at him: it's not too late to turn back – you’ve lost enough of your dignity, tell Gale to leave! Deal with this on your own, weakling! Astarion stuffs it back into a crevice in his mind; right now, relief is all that matters. This – this desire is weakness, he knows, but he has an excuse this time. It’s the spittle… it’s not him.

“I’m only looking to see if there’s anything else abnormal going on,” Gale assures him. “Not a second further.”

The hand tugs at the fabric of his pants, then, his underwear; and he holds back a groan as his length is freed from the confines of his pants, rock solid and rigid. His cock is so extremely skin taut and bulging to the head, it looks like it’s suffocating at the tip. It seems almost bruised, tinged with deep shades of purple, nearly black at some spots. Gale coughs as he sees it for just a second before turning his head to the ceiling.

“What? What is it?” he strains, unable to muster up the strength to lift his head up to take a peek at what’s happening between his legs.

“The hue of it… I can’t imagine that such discoloration is normal for you, regardless of your undead nature.”

“Speak. Plainly.” Astarion grits out between his teeth.

“It’s purple.”

“Purple? My cock?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh – gods. It’s going to fall off. I’m going to lose my cock. I’m going to be a eunuch,” he splutters.

“You are not going to lose anything. If I can’t fix this then I’ll have to truly evaluate my skills as a wizard.”

He shudders out a heavy breath as Gale commands the hand to touch his cock. It’s a gentle touch, hesitant to do anything more. “This year, Gale,” Astarion croaks. The fingers wrap loosely around him, and that’s enough to make him take a sharp breath. It starts to slowly stroke up and down, squeezing when it reaches the head, the magic radiating from the conjured hand seemingly sparking through his cock. "Faster." The hand falters for a second, before it follows his directions and works along his cock with more intensity. A tense minute of this passes before Gale breaks the heavy, shuddering silence.

“Is… is it all right?”

“Yes,” Astarion answers, but he thinks what he really needs is Gale’s touch – his real hands, not some conjured imagination of them. “No – yes, but no, I need – I need – touch me,” he begs, fucking begs. If he was in a less unhinged state, Astarion would throw up from how pitiful he sounds.

“I am touching you,” Gale reminds him.

"Gale, damn it.” He barely notices the heavy way that Gale swallows through his dry mouth. “That’s not what I mean.”

The mage hand continues to move up and down in a seamless glide, spreading his precum around, coating his cock slick. Astarion’s so hard he could cut through steel, it’s so painful, and he’s leaking a puddle against his stomach. It feels good— yet... It’s. Not. Enough. He can’t come from this alone. His head tilts back as he pants, his hips attempting to hump up against the conjured hand for more. “It hurts. It hurts so badly.”

Gale finally turns his head away from the tent’s ceiling to look at Astarion. His perturbed eyes bear into his skull. He’s thinking, weighing an idea.

“Please remember,” he mutters. “You asked me to touch you.”

With some degree of hesitance, he reaches a hand out to rub his fingers along the outside of Astarion’s right ear, gentle as he moves root to tip, running his thumb along the inner surface. Astarion lets out a gravelly moan, eyes crossing over as his mind is flooded with even more pleasure. Such an intimate act – reserved for the most cherished of lovers, Gale must know this – is not one that he can recall ever experiencing. Astarion’s reaction is instant; the caress has him trembling and on the brink of tears. At the same time, the arcane hand wraps its slick fingers tighter around his cock and gives faster, firmer strokes, twisting at the base and rubbing its thumb over the head with each pull.

“It feels – okay?” Gale asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion chokes out something between a laugh of disbelief and a whiney moan – what a stupid question, what a completely insensible thing to ask!

“Ta,” he slurs, mind short circuiting, unable to push the answer – yes – out in common tongue.

Gale thankfully knows Elvish, he remembers, though it wouldn’t matter much if he didn’t, because anyone with half a brain can tell that whatever is going on is very much alright with Astarion. Another hand reaches out to curl over the shell of his left ear, fingers rubbing back and forth between the tip, down to gingerly pinching his earlobe.

Astarion writhes, deep gasps turning into shuddering purrs from his ears being stimulated. Frankly, it feels fucking shameless – the sensation overshadowing the thrusts of his cock against the mage hand. The only thing better that he can possibly imagine would be to have Gale’s pretty lips wrapped around his cock – and though he knows vaguely that there isn’t a chance Gale will relent to that idea, he groans at the image, terribly pained, and horrifyingly, overwhelmingly aroused.

Gale probably mistakes the groan of pleasure for only a pained sound, because he whispers to him with sincerity, “You’re okay, Astarion. It’ll be over soon. You’re doing – you’re doing good. ”

The comforting tone pulls a pathetic whimper from Astarion and he looks up at Gale, eyes pitched dark in lust as the hand pumps his cock. Astarion meets each one with a thrust of his own. Gale tries to break his gaze and fails, his own face flushed with arousal, his chest dimly glowing in the darkness of the tent. Astarion doesn’t recognize the voice coming from his throat, whining for more, quicker, harder.

“Déithe. Le do thoil.”

Gods. Please.

The pace of the mage hand stroking his length speeds up, fist clenching more and more each time as it reaches around his tip, and Astarion feels the wave of his orgasm spiraling out from his belly already like Gale is actually pulling it out from him with a spell. His breath hitches, and his cock pulses with cum – so much cum –and it spills all over the blue fingers, thick and hot and seemingly endless. True relief washes through him, but it’s also agonizing in its own way, and Astarion can't help when a grateful, broken sob wrecks through his chest. It’s over. Finally.

“Buíochas, buíochas, thank you–”

Before Astarion can even register it, the relief is short lived, and his cock is still hard as ever, still the same unsightly shade of purple. What the fuck. It’s as if Gale didn’t help at all. The only comfort is that the itch burning through his body has subsided. He can feel his legs again, and it seems that the spell on his arms has worn off. But his lust is full throttle, somehow worse than before; Astarion continues to want, to need.

“You're still–” Gale begins incredulously, but Astarion scrambles with all his strength to push him down on the ground before he can finish his sentence. His hands are all over Gale, fumblingly groping at his chest. He’s hysterically turned on, mindlessly driven to seek more pleasure, more flesh, more anything from Gale by whatever the spittle blood is doing to his mind and body, and he makes a strangled noise when he pushes apart his cloak and sees it.

The outline of Gale’s cock straining in his pants.

A dark, wet spot at the top of the waistband.

Astarion’s hands tremble as they run down Gale’s chest to his soft thighs. “You’re almost as hard as I am. Did you also drink something suspicious?” He leans in and braves just enough to place a finger at the outline of the tip. “No. I caused this,” Astarion salivates. “Not an uncommon circumstance.”

“You—” Gale gasps, snatching Astarion’s wrist away. “You are not in the right state of mind, Astarion.”

“Why state something so obvious?” Astarion gives a maniacal laugh. “No! No, I’m not fully in the same realm as you right now. But it doesn’t matter. I want to thank you. It’s only good manners, and I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I mean, really, I’m being completely sincere when I say I've changed my mind – you don’t have to bring up this terribly maladroit situation at all –”

“Then forget about thanks, darling, and just allow me the pleasure of pleasuring you,” he implores, looking back up at him, pupils blown wide. Let me, let me, let me . “I’m not so completely rat-arsed to not know that you’re hard because of me .”

His fingers trace over the waistband of Gale’s trousers, pulling them slightly so that he can see the soft, brown hair that deliciously trails from his navel. Astarion marvels at the feeling tugging at his chest: how he wants , and what’s more, he carelessly wants to want.

Gale’s eyes flit across Astarion’s face, his own expression fraught with anxiety. “I need to go,” he says weakly. “Once you regain your regular state of mind, you’ll regret that I was the one to find you, to help you at all – this is a product of transient folly, spurred on by the spittle –”

“Please spare me from the precious coddling, it doesn’t suit you at all.”

Astarion spits the words out with venom. He wants to touch Gale so badly he might throw up, and for a second he’s sure that Gale is going to get up and walk away. Good . Good, he should get up and leave. How fucking embarrassing, how utterly uncouth and vile is it of Astarion, to push himself further on a man who simply wanted to help him not writhe around in agony due to a stupid mistake he made?

But Gale.

Gale – he doesn’t make a single move, his body might as well be frozen as he only offers a shaky breath, hand falling down to his side. Astarion can’t let another second pass him by, just in case Gale does come to his senses and Astarion doesn’t have the strength to accept it. He tugs his britches down to his thighs and Gale’s cock springs out against his stomach, already leaking and waiting at attention for him.

He swears there’s two versions of himself – one in control of the body, the other one floating outside– Astarion can see through another perspective as he drools, spit leaking onto Gale’s hard cock; he can hear the exact second when it hits the tip. He slobbers more saliva in his hand, then spreads it all along the veiny length, admiring the difference compared to his own pale cock – it’s not as long, but it’s curved, and thick enough that Astarion practically feels the phantom weight of it already in his throat.

His thumb dips over the dribbling tip, swiping over beads of precum. Astarion is mesmerized by the sight of it, by the erratic breathing from the man under him. It’s like he’s been bestowed a holy gift — and it’s all overwhelming for someone as impious as Astarion to accept it, but accept it he will. He drinks it all in at first, savoring the way he slowly works his fist; base to tip, then tip tortuously slow back down to base. Then, he speeds up with a fervor, and that’s when Gale’s hands reach to fold over his — and he’s so entranced he doesn’t even look up.

But it’s not that Gale makes him stop. He doesn’t make him pull off from him. He doesn’t even say anything at all. He just forces Astarion to slow down.

They're like that for a while, quiet, two pairs of hands moving up and down together, making the maddening lust inside of Astarion simmer and boil. The slick sounds and the way that Gale’s chest quickly rises and falls threatens to set Astarion ablaze if he doesn’t get his mouth around his cock immediately .

“Did Mystra ever deign to get on her knees for her darling little mage?”

“She— she is the Mother of Magic , Astarion,” Gale chides him, like he is some kind of unruly child.

“That’s a no, then.”

He takes his left hand off and pins one of Gale’s hands to his side and leans in to trace his lips along the fat head of Gale’s cock. The groan that falls from Gale’s lips makes it obvious that it’s been a long, long time since anyone, no less Mystra, has shown the worshiper what it means to be worshiped.

Poor Gale. A man who has had the unique privilege of making astral love with a literal Goddess, and yet, he is so starved of basic touch. Astarion feverishly contemplates what it means to be devout as he licks a slow stripe up Gale’s cock, savoring the taste of vaguely herbal skin, tongue lingering on the veins that line his length. Mystra be damned – Astarion will find out how it feels to hold Gale in his hands and pull tautly at all his strings.To desire and to be desired, oh, isn’t it all the same, so foreign in their intertwining? It’s a near violent, possessive urge: the need for Gale to remember the way his tongue works like a prayer, to recite it over and over in his memory long after tonight.

He realizes, grimly, that Gale will be the first living, free person to remember him in this way.

Astarion then looks up through his lashes, dismayed to see Gale’s expression: curious but somewhat flat, like he’s simply observing. Writing mental notes to review later. That’s certainly not an expression Astarion has ever seen while in this delicate position, and he decides he’s not fond of it – it better change, he thinks, before he says something needlessly cruel. He slides the head of Gale’s cock between his lips, before closing them around the crown; then, he drags his tongue along the underside and then up the slit, tasting the droplets of precum pooling at the top. He watches Gale the entire time, unblinking, and he hums with satisfaction when Gale’s eyes widen in awe; his attention shifting to suck all around the leaking cock, making it messy with spit and flat tongue.

“Gods above,” Gale whispers, voice raspy, hands sliding up to his silvery curls. Astarion groans, closing his eyes, letting the fingers in his hair guide his motions, slurping and tightening his mouth when he feels Gale involuntarily jerk against it. “This – ah, this , isn’t any form of gratitude I’m familiar with.”

Astarion hollows out his mouth and slides his cock all the way back, so far down his throat that Gale makes an incoherent noise. The sounds of Gale teetering on the edge of his hushed composure is too much for his over-stimulated brain – Astarion juts his hand down to his still viciously hard cock, tugging at it harshly. What is a prayer compared to the sanctity of Gale’s moans? They’re such sweet, hesitant little cracks under the way Astarion’s throat works like it wants to wring his cock out completely dry.

Astarion’s head wobbles from it all. Is he really after Gale’s cum or is it still his blood? Maybe he’s only after some of the sanity he’s currently missing, rattling around in Gale’s brain. Maybe it’s all of the above, everything. He gasps for air as he pulls away, long strands of spit and precum connecting his mouth to Gale’s cock.

“Tell me, Gale,” Astarion grins like a madman, pupils so blown that there’s just a sliver of crimson around the rims. “Is the regret settling in yet?”

“Yes,” Gale groans, frustration lacing his tone. Astarion’s face falters at the answer and his stomach almost drops, but then he feels fingers grasping around his curls. “I regret knowing that mouth — it’s completely wicked.”

“You’re not a liar, right?” Astarion asks, fluttering kisses all around Gale’s cock. “Have you thought about my mouth before?”

Gale nearly hisses in disapproval at the question: “ Astarion .”

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Anyone would, when you’re constantly boasting about your skills ,” Gale grimaces, as if admitting such a thing is painful.

Astarion nail’s scrape against the base of Gale’s cock, causing him to tense against his grasp. He’s not sure why he needs to hear this so badly. “Have you touched yourself, thinking of me?”

Gale is breathless, but he gives him a straight answer, no wit involved.

“Yes.”

Something snaps in Astarion at the admission and his hands shake when they go to tug Gale’s pants further down to his ankles, eliciting a surprised groan from him. Astarion pulls him apart and palms his ass, watching as he shudders, then dives in with a long, messy lick along his perineum. He laps at him, rolling his tongue around the tight rim of muscles, then sinks inside, burying his tongue in while Gale’s whole body shakes under him. Astarion’s cock leaks as he buries his tongue in and out, completely and blindly overtaken by desire. He's frantic and needy as he alternates between sucking sloppy kisses against the rim and intense licking; one hand hooking under Gale’s knee to lift him, the other snaking down to grasp Gale's cock to pump it in tandem with each lap. He listens as Gale’s breathing becomes more raw and ragged as he pulls at Astarion’s hair.

“Astarion,” Gale strains, “ Astarion, please, just –”

The moan that tumbles out from Astarion feels like it has been punched out of him. Oh, he thinks, how lovely – Gale has never sounded better than with Astarion’s name on his lips, it’s such beautiful pleading — he could get used to it.

His original goal was to make Gale come apart under his tongue, but he thinks of something else, another wicked way to make the mage fall apart, to come closer to the same raving lunacy that Astarion is experiencing. One that involves less mental juggling of hand and mouth. Astarion pulls his mouth away, pushes forward and climbs onto his lap. They look at each other with a shared gasp when their slick, aching cocks meet, rubbing together.

“You– we– we should stop.” Gale strains, angling to push him away. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Astarion scoffs, sinking further over him. “I know exactly what I’m doing to you.” Gale’s cock twitches against his and he licks his lips, baring his teeth as he simpers. “And you like it.”

“This – this could be too much for the orb in my chest – no matter how stabilized it is. I could be in danger of exploding, quite literally.”

Sweet Gale, exaggerating and trying to do the right thing, however late – and fruitless – at this point. If they stop now , what difference does it make?

“What a delightful death we could have,” Astarion ignores him, before he sways his hips and lines their cocks even closer together.

Gale whines as Astarion reaches over to put his palms on top of Gale’s, guiding them to wrap around both of their cocks. He gathers up more spit in his mouth to drool over each one; they both shudder as they squeeze their lengths together, sticky cock against sticky cock, threads of precum connecting their heads during the seconds they separate. Their cocks slide together, slippery with Astarion’s spit and Gale’s precum, rocking jointly in an ungraceful motion. Gale’s clearly overly stimulated, but Astarion doesn’t let up, he can’t even if he wanted to – he is a man, no, a creature possessed – he pumps faster, rougher, and makes their cocks push up harder into their palms.

“Astarion,” Gale chokes out, and he sounds so wrecked, it’s almost enough to convince Astarion that he’s under the influence of the same spittle as well. Gale’s head hits backwards on his pillow, eyes rolling as Astarion’s wild stare burns deep into him, unable to look away from his face. “Ah, I can’t –”

“You can,” Astarion breathes, stroking and tightening their grips on their cocks painfully. “There’s absolutely nothing you can’t do. You’re the great Gale of Waterdeep. Bí buachaill maith, agus tar chugam.”

Be a good boy, and come for me.

Immediately, Gale keens and his whole body lifts off, thick pearly streaks of his cum spraying across his stomach and chest. Astarion quickly follows with his own orgasm, panting, drooling over Gale, eyes fluttering with satisfaction. “There you go,” Astarion breathes, milking Gale through his tremors, nearly unphased by the way his own muscles constrict and release like a spring. “You deserve it for being so helpful. My little laoch .” My little hero.

And even after Gale is done, when he’s shaking and cumdrunk from emptying himself, Astarion strokes his raw and still hard length against Gale’s softening cock, playing with the cum pooling between them. Astarion swipes his sticky fingers through their cum and brings them to his lips, sliding them deep into his mouth. He makes a show of lapping between his fingers, holding eye contact with Gale, who is so delightfully flushed he looks like he can barely breathe. Gods, he is so pretty like this.

“When were you going to tell me you were so delicious?”

Gale shudders in sensitivity as Astarion goes back to swirling his thumb over Gale’s cockhead, rubbing up and down their cocks. He’s so unbearably hard, he thinks madly that he’s going to have to slit his wrists and force some of his tainted blood into Gale’s mouth to make him understand. “Astarion, for the Gods sake,” Gale stutters, trying to regain his coherency and attempting to pull away. “I’m not in an altered state like you – t-there’s nothing left from me.”

The utterly detestable thought of ignoring Gale crosses his mind, and Astarion is tempted to listen to it. To give into the sickly demand of his body. He thinks he would kill for it, could kill for it: to flip Gale over and hook his fingers around his pink lips and plunge his cock inside and fuck him deep until there’s nothing left, nowhere to go, until one of them – it doesn’t matter which – sobs from it, passes out from it.

No, he thinks, horrified.

Rational. Be rational. Think.

It’s the spittle.

He needs it gone , Astarion tells himself, it’s making him drag this out, glossing over the uncomfortable reality that’s bound to settle in between them after all is said and done. His jaw tenses as he looks down at Gale, nervous, jelly-soft, not anywhere near fucked out like Astarion desperately wants.

“Fine, fine. I think there’s another way I could flush the rest out…” Astarion murmurs, eyeing Gale’s neck.

“My blood ? Let me remind you that it's not exactly a delicacy, Astarion.”

“It doesn’t matter – the weave magic pulsing through has to be strong enough to combat what’s in my body.”

“If you think you can choke it down,” Gale takes a deep inhale. “Far be it from me to prolong your… condition. Intriguing to see how my blood interacts with yours, given the current circumstances, but don’t expect me to do anything if it happens to set you on fire, or something of the sort…”

There is no gentleness to it – no trepidation like the night when Astarion first grazed his two tips against Tav’s neck. Hardly a second passes by before his sharp nails dig into Gale’s shoulders, pinning him down, fangs sinking into his neck with reckless abandon. Astarion draws in deep, greedy pulls of blood and Gale’s pulsing life source gushes into his mouth and down his throat, bizarre and laced with a sharp, arcane bitterness. He chokes after the first few gulps, pulling away to suck in air, “Hells –”

Gale wobbles his head at him. Despite the pain in his neck, he’s concerned.

“Astarion, are you–”

He snakes his fingers through Gale’s hair and forcefully yanks his head back, baring his neck again. Astarion’s teeth pierces the flesh once more, latching on and swallowing despite the intensity of it prickling down his throat like jagged shards of glass, driven solely by the way Gale’s blood thrums with furious energy. Small trails of blood drip out from his mouth, sliding down his chin as he desperately drinks and drinks. He delights in the whimpers it draws from Gale and rubs his cock against his stomach, angling for another release like an animal. Astarion feels like he could suck the very soul out of Gale, steal it for himself, fit it right within his chest, he wants to, he wants to, he wants to. When Gale slides a hand up his abdomen and wraps his fingers around his cock, a moan gurgles from Astarion’s throat, and his thoughts fizzle out as he completely surrenders to the feeling.

His body surges forward with all the grace of a rabid creature as Gale pumps his cock vigorously and clumsily, biting down pained noises as Astarion sucks and sucks from the juncture of his neck. He groans something guttural, and then, he comes so hard his vision blacks out entirely. His cock shoots out ropes of cum across Gale’s body, marking his thighs and stomach, causing a sticky, mess between them.

The world finally, finally starts to slowly realign.

He feels utterly weightless as he retracts his fangs from Gale’s tender flesh. They’re both perspiring profusely, sweat pouring from their bodies, panting against each other in the stillness of his tent. When his ears stop buzzing, he can hear Gale’s thundered pulse ringing a vibrant rhythm in his ears and – it’s beautiful. It’s so alive . Astarion doesn’t want to mourn the loss of it yet, holding on to that crackly feeling beating unsteady around him. He presses their chests and thighs together, bringing a trembling hand up, smearing what’s left of the blood on his jaw into his mouth, pressing it along his tongue and against his gums.

“Your blood tastes so…” Astarion closes his eyes. He mulls it over, tracing around the ridges of his mouth, under the tip of his fangs. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever had . I’m not sure what the right word would be. Nauseating. Or perhaps revolting?” “Don’t act like I didn’t caution you.”

“Rancid? Putrid? Could be used as a torture method for prisoners of war?”

“Alright, you’ve made your point very clear. I sincerely apologize that my blood is not to your refined taste.”

“Hmm. Well. Taste can be acquired.”

Astarion leans his head in and licks at the wound, contemplating it as Gale shivers around him, a hand snaking up to his waist with a firm squeeze.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. If you think that’s happening again,” Gale says, with the world’s worst conviction, “You’re sorely mistaken.” He waves his shaky hand, muttering a spell quietly, and then, the both of them are clean from the mess they've made of each other.

Even though he’s wired , Astarion’s simultaneously exhausted. He could retort something about how Gale should be afraid – should feel absolutely foolish – now that he’s gotten a taste of what it means to be filled with such special, arcane energy. Now that he knows how it feels to actually enjoy making someone come undone under him. That perhaps Gale has made an addict out of him, in more ways than one.

He could tell him all that, and it would all be true. But he’ll settle for being honest about something much more mundane.

“You know what was good?”

“Do tell me, Astarion, I’m dying to hear all your revelations tonight.”

“For once, everyone was right about one thing. Your stew, darling, it was delicious, I’ll never doubt your culinary skills again.”

“Well, I already knew that, but I’m glad you’re admitting it. Maybe next time you won’t run away if I happen to offer you some sourdough.”

“Only if you leave the bread slicing to someone else,” Astarion snorts as he draws away from the nape of Gale’s neck, exposing the fresh wound to air. He pushes himself off from his chest and falls to the side, draping his legs lazily around the other man’s legs, resting a head on his shoulder.

“I’m completely drained – pun intended, ” Gale mumbles, “And not too righteous to admit that I can't keep my eyes open…”

There is so much of Gale in his veins that Astarion is sure that he will burst if he moves even an inch, that it will all leak out of his chest, a violaceous firecracker just waiting to erupt from every pore in his body. Yet it’s the way that his legs are gracelessly hooked around Gale’s thighs that makes it all die down. He wraps himself a little more around the sanctuary of Gale’s body, sinking into the embrace. There’s no chance that he’s getting up any time soon; he’s on a cloud, bathed in sunlight, and there’s no more scorching pain. Just warmth, and only the right amount of it.

Three breaths are all it takes for Gale to slip into the realm of sleep, and Astarion stiffens at the unfamiliar concept of spending the night with him. “Gale,” he whispers.

Even his name fizzes on Astarion’s tongue.

When Gale doesn’t stir, Astarion thinks it would be unkind to disturb him any further. Not that being kind really matters at all to him, but, well. I’ll blame it on the spittle in the morning, he thinks, hypnotized by the gentle, barely there rhythm of Gale’s heartbeat and the rapid torrent of magic coursing through his own veins.

Before he realizes it, he slips away too.

#i'm honestly so nervous to post this be gentle with me lmao #bloodweave #gale/astarion #gale #astarion #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #baldur's gate gale #baldur's gate astarion #porcelainfic #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #galestarion

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fangswbenefits · 11 months

Text

Double-edged Sword

Summary: Miguel knows he has to let you go before you can be his. But it’s not that simple. Especially when you keep on testing his limits…

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 2.2k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. F*ngering.

Part 1 (if you're just starting out) - Previous part

By the time Miguel rose from his slumber, he was met with a pair of curious eyes glaring at him.

"You snore."

A sleepy yawn worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his wrist to assess the time. It was still fairly early in the morning, and he allowed himself to relax against your soft pillows.

You were on your side, both hands tucked under your head, and your trademark sweet smile curling your lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

Miguel nodded, mustering the will to sit up against the bed rest. He soon realised he had fallen asleep on top of the comforter with just a blanket covering him, whereas you were nicely tucked inside your bedsheets.

A distinct barrier between you two.

He looked down at you through sleepy eyes, wishing he could plant a soft kiss to your temple.

You looked so peaceful and it brought a sense of calmness to him as well.

"I was thinking of meeting Tom today.." you began, as you flopped onto your back. "Think you can get someone to cover for me? Just for a while?"

And just like that, Miguel's stomach turned uncomfortably. "Today? Already?"

Your head turned to him. "Why? Do you think I should wait? Do we have something important today?"

"Maybe you should wait a little longer," he said with a sigh. "Take some time to figure out the best approach."

"I've been waiting for months... I just... I really need this," you whispered, now facing away from him.

In reality, Miguel knew there wasn't much he could say to deter you from this. He couldn't really blame you from wanting to set things right with someone who meant so much to you.

He would have given everything to be able to get that opportunity with Gabriella.

However, the less rational side of him was seething with jealousy. After all, you had revealed you had feelings for him.

But what truly fueled his escalating jealousy was what had happened last night. The kiss, him touching himself in front of you, and you touching yourself in front of him. Intimacy had engulfed you both so unexpectedly, that he wondered if it had been a mistake.

He dreaded that thought, so he promptly pushed it away.

"Sure. Take your time."

You then shifted to sit next to him, your shirt briefly clinging to your breasts, letting him know you were braless.

Of course.

He groaned inwardly at the sight of the small protuberances on each nipple.

And you caught him staring, arching a brow in amusement. "Want to see them again?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner.

But it seemed that you were hellbent on torturing him, so when you got on your knees, briefly crawling to him, and finally settling on his lap, he knew he was fucked.

You were wearing nothing but a shirt and sleeping shorts, and when you looped your arms around his neck, he instinctively closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another erection.

He had expected you to lean in for a kiss, but you remained still, eyeing him with utmost interest.

"This place can be so isolating," you sighed.

Miguel gripped your hips, adjusting you back to prevent having you seating on his crotch.

"Nueva York is overflowing with spiders, yet you still feel so lonely, you know?"

He did know.

It was lonely at the top.

While many spiders had relationships of their own and managed to build their lives around them, Miguel had nearly forgotten how used to being alone he had gotten.

"So you feel lonely here?"

You seemed unsure. "I have you to keep me company, though I figure that doesn't really count. you were forced to babysit me when I forgot got here."

"I wasn't forced to do anything," he corrected, slightly frowning. "I saw the potential in you and wanted to harness that."

Your fingers were absentmindedly caressing the nape of his neck. "I feel really comfortable around you."

That caught him slightly off guard.

"I never thought I'd be able to reveal that secret to anyone... you whispered, shifting to sit on his growing erection. "And last night.."

The not knowing was killing him. On one hand, he was scared to find out that it had been nothing but a hear of the moment thing, but he yearned for more than that... and that part of him needed to kn more.

"Was is because of loneliness, then?"

You pressed your lips tightly together.

"Well, I suppose loneliness gets the best of us, eventually," he sighed, trying his best to seem as casual as possible. "Sometimes, using your hand just doesn't quite do it."

At this, you widened your eyes, before averting your gaze. "It wasn't because I felt lonely... I... I just... you're really attractive and.."

Miguel decided that was enough.

He brought his hand to the back of hour neck and pulled you closer until your lips grazed along his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You swallowed, pressing yourself down on him. "Do you always get this.. excited so easily?"

He gripped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to have your eyes meet his. "Only for you."

It was a simple confession mixed with desire, but it was enough to startle you.

Fuck.

You leaned back as if snapped from a daydream. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I mean that, and you can feel it," he proved his point with a roll of his hips.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open.

His sweet girl was so, so responsive...

Instinctively, you tried to match the sway of his hips, but it felt clumsy and Miguel brought both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly.

Your breaths were coming out shaky as he guided you on his clothed cock, guiding you on how to move your body alongside his.

"Does that feel good?" he asked seductively.

"Yes..." you gasped. "I... I'm.."

Miguel felt the first beads of precum drip from his tip. "You're what?"

Your hands came to grip his shoulders, and you took a deep breath before one of them slid down to your

body.

Miguel immediately knew what you meant, but he intended on having things go differently this time.

" can do that for you... he offered, gripping your wrist gently, as your fingers prepared to slide inside your shorts.

You bit your lip, eyes still squeezed shut. "You have to...”

"I want to," he said firmly.

Nodding, you brought your hand up to his shoulder again, and he took the chance to gently slip his fingers past the waistband.

You immediately shuddered and leaned to rest your face against his neck.

He trailed down carefully and his cock twitched once he reached your clit.

"Is this okay?"

You moaned in response, wrapping your arms around him.

Your clit was already swollen and Miguel felt his fangs threatening to drop once he began to slowly roll the pad of his finger around it.

It didn't take long until he felt your wetness seeping through the layers of fabric and staining his suit.

"Please... Miguel..." you groaned, now jerking your hips against his touch.

He began to drag your wetness along your folds to coat your clit with it. You were soaked for him, your body already working on preparing you to take his COCk.

But he would have to be gentle.

He would have you riding his fingers first.

"Please what, sweet girl?" he cooed, planting a kiss to your temple."

You answered by trying to have his finger slide down to your entrance.

So eager...

"Can you take one finger?"

You halted your hips and took a few seconds to nod.

"I can take it..."

He could cum just from your shaky voice and how much you craved him.

As one finger reached your opening, he felt you tense up lightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, tracing the sensitive spot. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't stop..."

He pressed yet another kiss on your flushed skin, and slipped the tip of one finger inside, feeling you immediately squeeze around him.

Miguel realised that if he were to be your first, he would be utterly fucked. The way you gripped his fingers with your walls nearly tipped him over the edge. He couldn't imagine how ridiculously good it'd feel to have his cock inside you instead.

"Try to relax.."

And you did try.

Until his thumb pressed down on your clit.

Your hips immediately bucked into him, encasing his finger inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

"Easy..." he growled, his fangs emerging right away from the overload of sensation.

He doubted you'd be able to take another thick finger of his, so he settled for having just one sliding in and out, drawing the sweetest gasps from you.

"You're doing so well.." he praised.

You rolled your hips instinctively, fucking yourself on his finger as best as inexperience allowed you.

"Take... take your... suit..." you pleaded, clawing at his chest with one hand.

The digital layer vanished down to his waist. He didn't want set his cock free or he would cum in an instant.

Then, he saw you roll up your shirt with trembling fingers, exposing your breasts.

He nearly came rigth there and then.

But nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to do.

You desperately brought your pierced nipples to graze against his bare chest, slowly raising your before sinking down around his finger.

Miguel was now certain that you would be the death of him.

He felt your wetness dribbling down his hand, but kept a steady pressure on your pulsing clit. With each undulation of your body, he was able to feel the cool metal of your piercings digging into his skin, and couldn't fight back the growl that emerged from deep within him.

As expected, he was embarrassingly close, and needed to do something about it.

"Lift your hips."

You groaned in response, stilling for a moment.

"Wait….. why?"

"I'm close.."

You slowly clenched around his finger, and his hand came to grip your hip tight.

"Too close..

The beginning of a pout settled on your face, but you did as requested, finally putting a stop to the near excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

Now he could focus on you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to anchor your with each flick of his finger and with each sway of your hips.

"Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, but he could tell from your erratic breathing that you were nearing your peak. Your whimpers increased in intensity, as you clumsily rode his finger, chasing after your bliss.

The sound of his watch beeping broke the rhythm for a second, but Miguel ignored it.

As long as no canon event was involve, he wouldn't shift his attention from you.

It beeped again.

But you were so close.

"I... I think I'm.."

He didn't need your words, your body language spoke to him in ways he didn't know he craved.

The movement you started convulsing against him and tightening your grip around his neck, he knew you were coming undone. Your walls clenched around his finger as the orgasm tore through your body.

Another beep, which Miguel ignored again.

Miguel allowed himself to enjoy your tightness, realising you would need far more preparation than this if you were to take his cock.

Your legs were shaking slightly, as he kept pressing the pad of his thumb against your pulsing clit.

But what really made his cock twitch was the way you kept mumbling his name in between sobs, eventually slumping against his chest.

He slowly withdrew his finger, earning a deep sigh from you.

Miguel's heart nearly burst out of his chest from the unexpected announcement, and you jolted into him, still descending from your peak.

Instant bones killer.

Much against his will, he brought himself to suit up and carefully set you aside on your bed with a kiss pressed to your forehead, before jumping to his feet, quickly clicking through his watch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, glazing at you as he neared the bedroom window.

You were a panting mess, but quickly tried to gather yourself. "Don't apologise. Just go."

He hopped onto the window sill and took a deep breath, throwing you a final glance. "TIl find you once I'm done."

"You don't have to... I have to do this on my own."

He nodded. "Don't deactivate your mic."

Your straightened your shirt before sitting on mattress. "Miguel... it'll be fine."

"Do as I say."

You eventually nodded.

He hated having to part from you, but his duty came first, and he couldn't step away from it.

Not even for his sweet girl.

"Lyla, summon squad 12, and give me the readings on the anomaly."

Before swinging into the cool morning air of Nueva York, Miguel saw you crossing your legs and stare at him with those sweet eyes that he was so addicted to.

But he would be there for you again.

He would find you.

And he would make sure your devotion would he his.

Not Tom's.

Once Miguel was done with the canon disruption, he threw himself into a portal to get to you.

Your mic wasn't working, and your bio readings weren't available, and he could only assume you had switched off your watch.

Luckily, he had checked Tom's file before deleting it as you had requested.

He knew exactly where to go.

The sun had began to set on the horizon, engulfing the city in shades of orange that helped mask his movements across the innumerous rooftops. He refrained from using his web often, as the laser-like flashes would draw too much attention.

So he took it to jumping and clawing his way up the steep walls of the building opposite to where he lived on all fours, already being able to pick up some interference coming from your mic.

You were close.

"... you want me to leave."

Miguel reached the metal railing of an emergency exit, and balanced himself on it, feeling his heart stammering against his chest.

"You're so good at that, so go ahead."

From there, he was able to spot you in his apartments, near a window. He caugjt a glimpse of Tom and immediately decided he hated him.

He was scowling deeply at you, arms crossed, and words sharp as knives.

How dare he?

His claws were digging into the railing, and Miguel felt droplets of venom spill from his fangs.

This Tom individual wasn't even attractive to begin with, so he figured your previous attraction to him had to based on something else.

"You hurt me! You cannot do this and expect me to pretend nothing happened."

Clearly not based on personality.

Your voice was so low, Miguel was barely able to make it through the mic. "Tom... it was also hard for me..."

Miguel was visibly seething at this pint, wishing he could just drag you out of there. You deserved better than someome who didn't bother listening to you.

"Please leave."

There was a long pause and Miguel held his breath, not wanting to miss out on your reply.

"Don't do this..." you whispered, and he could hear the sadness in your words.

It was itching him to put an end to it.

But...

Deep down, Miguel knew you needed this. Closure. Even if things didn't go as you had hoped, you had tried your best to remedy this situation.

His heart hadn't wanted you to go visit Tom, but his mind spoke differently. He had to let you go to him, to have you as his.

A double-edged sword.

"You left me for months. Ignored me for months. You don't get to do this without a decent explanation," the idiot went on, further angering Miguel. "And since you don't want to tell me the truth, I want you gone."

This time, you cleared your throat and stormed out of the room, not exchanging another word.

Miguel considered dealing with Tom in his own way, but you came first.

He plunged from the rooftop and into a deserted alley, pacing quickly to meet you as you exited through the door, zipping up the hoodie that hid your suit underneath.

Miguel called after you, but you didn't turn to face him.

"I don't want to talk, Miguel."

Not wanting to be spotted by some passer-by, he urged you to walk into another alley.

"I heard some of it," he said softly once you were both out of sight.

You pressed your back against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. It was almost criminal that someone like you had to ever feel this way.

"You did what you could," he went on, placing one hand on your shoulder. "Maybe one day he'll understand."

Miguel didn't want him to be near you ever again, but he had to comfort you somehow.

You lowered your gaze and fixed it on a small puddle of water at your feet. "I deserve this."

"You do not."

"I don't want your pity."

He shook his head. "You won't have it."

In fact, he was willing to give you his heart if you'd take it. But he wouldn't dare say that out loud. Not in this moment.

He waited for your to make a move, but you remained quiet.

"Let's go back to Nueva York," he suggested, placing one hand on your shoulder.

You sobbed softly, and he saw a couple of teardrops drip from your face.

He just couldn't bear seeing you like this, so he took a step closer and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you... thank you, thank you..." you kept on repeating in between sniffles.

He held you tightly in absolute adoration and devotion. "I'm here for you."

"You're a great friend, Miguel..."

Friend.

That word made his heart sink violently.

"Just as a friend?"

There it was... his obsession for you creeping in.

You pulled away from his grip, teary eyes narrowing at him. "Oh... with benefits?"

That was somehow even worse.

Your face twisted into something else as you patted your face dry. "What do you want from me, Miguel?"

Anything.

Everything.

"Anything you're willing to give me," he said truthfully.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so straightforward, but he was merely answering your question. He didn't want to lie, and didn't want to go back to having to hide how he truly felt.

"I don't know if I can give you much more than this."

Your words lingered in the air after hitting him hard and he felt as though his body had been plunged into freezing water.

"Why?"

Your gaze wavered and you began chewing your lip. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious..."

Miguel straightened to his full height. "Anything you can give me... I'll take it."

He sounded desperate, and deep down he knew that it was probably working against him. Being intimate with you only could only satisfy him for so long if nothing was to come of it.

As much as his body yearned for you touch, his heart was seeking something that wasn’t skin-deep.

"Can I ask for something?"

Anything.

Everything.

He would give it all to you.

You cleared your throat. "I need time."

He could definitely work with that.

However...

"Do you... like being with me?" Miguel carefully asked. "And I'm not talking about being with me like earlier today." Your fluttering orgasm was proof enough.

Your eyes widened and he could tell you had not expected his bluntness. "Of course I do... I... just need time."

He pressed his lips together into a fine line. In truth, he didn't want to be just friends with you. He didn't crave that level of human connection. He needed much more than that from you.

"You only want me as a friend."

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded more like an accusation.

Was he being fair with you? Was he being fair with himself? These questions kept on looping inside his head, but his emotions had a stronger hold on him.

"I trust you," you said in a whisper. "I don't trust people easily."

That did ease some of the uneasiness within him, but he still wanted more. The grip of his obsession for you was tightening around him viciously, and it was getting harder for him to keep it at bay.

"Maybe I want more than that."

"Miguel..."

He leaned in, bending his head just enough for his lips to almost meet yours, searching for the comfort of your warmth.

He could feel you slipping through his fingers again.

You turned your head lightly and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek instead.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the dreadful feeling that you were parting from him suddenly overcame him.

"Maybe you should go back..." you said after parting from him. "I'll stay here for a little while..."

"Because of Tom?" he could feel the poison dripping from his words.

You shook your head vehemently. "Because of me."

Part 7

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099

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