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p0orbaby · 8 months ago

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Do Not Disturb (Unless You're Drunk and Nosy)

summary: privacy? you wish

warnings: suggestive, alcohol, literally everyone being a little shit, angry ale (hot)

a/n: may or may not be inspired by real events…

word count: 1.6k

You always thought getting walked in on would be, you know, mortifying. Like, your face turns tomato red, you start stammering, and then you spend the rest of your life avoiding the person who caught you with your pants down—literally. But it turns out that, in reality, it’s way worse than that.

Here’s the thing: Alexia Putellas is perfect. You know this, because you’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time cataloging her perfections. Her perfectly toned legs that could crush a coconut. Her perfectly sharp jawline that could carve Mount Rushmore. Her perfectly soft lips that could silence an entire stadium with a single kiss. And when you’re drunk at a friends house party, it’s easy to forget that this perfection isn’t something you should casually indulge in right now, in a random upstairs bedroom, while everyone else is downstairs playing beer pong and comparing their World Cup tattoos.

But when Alexia grabs your hand and drags you away from the chaos, her eyes all dark and dangerous, any rational thought you have dribbles out of your ears like last week’s gossip. So here you are, in this bed—well, on this bed, because you didn’t even make it all the way under the covers—desperately trying to remember how to breathe while Alexia’s tongue is doing things that would make a priest reconsider his career choices.

You’re about to reach the kind of nirvana people write songs about when the door slams open. Not opens—slams. As if someone was just waiting for the right moment to ruin your life.

“Oh my God,” someone says in a tone that suggests they’ve just witnessed a murder, except, of course, that would be preferable.

Alexia’s head snaps up so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash, and you have about two seconds to see the wild panic in her eyes before her entire body goes rigid like a cat that’s just been sprayed with water. She’s still on top of you, which would be hot if you weren’t currently wondering whether you’re legally obligated to register as a sex offender for being caught like this.

And who’s standing there in the doorway? None other than Jenni, who you’re pretty sure was voted “Most Likely to Show Up Uninvited” in high school. She’s holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone in the other, like she’s been documenting the worst possible moments of the night, and this one’s going to top the list.

“Holy shit,” Jenni says, blinking as if she’s trying to reboot her brain. It doesn’t work, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

That’s it. You’re going to die. This is how you die. Not from the embarrassment but because Alexia is going to murder you both. You can see it in her eyes. She’s doing some very fast maths in her head, and it ends with Jenni’s body floating down a river somewhere.

“Close the door,” Alexia snaps, and it’s the first thing she’s said in what feels like hours. Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Jenni just stares at her for a moment, then at you—still half-naked, because of course you are—and then at Alexia again, like she’s debating whether the smart move is to leave or to stay and further ruin your life.

But of course, Jenni’s never been one for smart moves.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, waving her tequila bottle around like it’s a magic wand that’s going to make this situation less awkward. “This is gold. I’ve got to tell the others.” She turns around and yells down the stairs, “Hey, guys! Get up here, quick!”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl under the bed and maybe live there forever with the dust bunnies and whatever sock the last person to use this room lost. But you don’t get the chance to do any of that, because Alexia has now flipped the fuck out, and she’s off the bed and across the room in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Are you insane?” Alexia hisses at Jenni, who looks like she’s genuinely surprised that Alexia isn’t finding this whole situation hilarious. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jenni, who’s clearly never learned to read the room, just grins, leaning against the doorframe like she’s auditioning for the role of “World’s Biggest Pain in the Ass.” “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who decided to get frisky in someone else’s house”

You’re still lying there, half-dressed, your shirt tangled up with some lacy thing that definitely belongs to Alexia, watching the two of them bicker like you’re not even here. You could say something, of course. You could try to diffuse the situation, maybe crack a joke or two, but that would require actual brain function, and right now, all you’ve got is the mental equivalent of elevator music.

Alexia’s about to bite Jenni’s head off—probably literally—when, as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with your current level of humiliation, there’s a knock on the door.

“Jenni? What’s going on?” You recognise that voice. It’s Mapi, followed by a snicker from Patri and what sounds like Ingrid trying and failing to shush them. Great. Just great. Now you’ve got an audience.

Before anyone can react, Jenni swings the door open with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to introduce a sold-out concert, and your teammates spill into the room like they’ve been rehearsing this all night.

“What the—” Mapi starts, then stops dead when she sees you, then Alexia, and then your clothes all over the floor like some kind of chaotic breadcrumb trail. Her eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Oh, wow”

There’s a moment of silence that’s so uncomfortable you could bottle it and sell it to masochists. You’re pretty sure you’re about to melt into the bed and become one with the mattress. Meanwhile, Patri has the audacity to wolf whistle, which earns her a glare from Alexia that could stop a freight train.

“So,” Ingrid says, doing a terrible job at hiding her amusement. “This is…unexpected”

“Unexpected?” Mapi echoes, looking at Ingrid like she’s just suggested that the earth is flat. “This is fucking hilarious”

Jenni’s practically doubled over with laughter now, leaning on Mapi for support, which only sets her off too. Pretty soon, all three of them are giggling like schoolgirls who’ve just found out their teacher’s dating the P.E. teacher.

Alexia is standing there, jaw clenched, probably wondering if anyone would notice if she threw them all out the window. You, meanwhile, have reached a state of embarrassment that transcends space and time. You’re floating above the situation, looking down at your life and wondering where it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?” you ask, even though you know it’s hopeless. “It’s not like we were…” You trail off, realizing that there’s no good way to end that sentence. Not like you were what? Sorting laundry? Rearranging the furniture?

“Having sex?” Patri supplies helpfully, still grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “You totally were. We walked in at the good part, didn’t we?”

Alexia makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, which is probably the only thing that stops her from committing actual homicide. “Out. All of you. Now”

But no one moves. Because why would they? They’re having the time of their lives. Jenni’s already pulling out her phone, probably to tweet something like “Just walked in on the most awkward team bonding experience ever #FML”

“We’re not going to let you live this down, you know,” Mapi says, her smirk so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t split in half. “This is going to be the story we tell at every team event from now until the end of time”

“Your kids are going to hear about this,” Patri adds, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Hell, your grandkids. This is legendary”

You’re going to need therapy after this. Maybe a lot of therapy. But, honestly, that’s future you’s problem. Right now, you just want them to leave so you can salvage whatever dignity you have left and maybe finish what you started with Alexia—assuming, of course, that this hasn’t killed the mood entirely.

Finally, because even she knows when enough is enough, Jenni straightens up and nods toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.” She winks at Alexia, who looks like she might actually be considering taking up a new sport just to avoid ever having to see Jenni again. “But don’t take too long. We’re going to need the play-by-play downstairs”

With that, they finally—finally—file out of the room, still snickering and whispering like they’ve just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century. As the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well,” you say, turning to look at Alexia, who’s now standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “That went as good as expected”

She gives you a look that could freeze hell, but then, after a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We are never doing this again”

“Sex?” you ask, and the horrified expression that crosses her face makes you burst out laughing. “In someone else’s house,” you clarify, still giggling. “I think that’s a solid rule”

She rolls her eyes but then moves back toward the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells you maybe the night isn’t entirely ruined after all. “Well, we’re here now,” she says, climbing onto the mattress and pulling you toward her. “Might as well make the most of it”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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clazaries · 1 year ago

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The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

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colonelkaboom · 5 days ago

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❥ Calling Sylus When You're Drunk

・Xavier��

✎ AN: Filled with liquid courage, you call Sylus and unintentionally express some insecurities of yours that have bothered you recently. To your surprise, he takes time to assure you that the way you view yourself is not how he sees you... Word count: 600 Disclaimer: Obviously this little fic mentions alcohol consumption. I picture this event being pretty early on in their (not yet romantic) relationship.

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“Hello, Boss Man. How are things in the N109 zone? Landed any good deals lately?” You lower your voice trying to sound as deep and mysterious as the man you’re calling.

“Are you drunk, sweetie?”

“That is none of your concern, sweetie.” You attempt to lower your voice even further to match his. Before he has a chance to reply you repeat his nickname for you a few more times, trying to make it sound as good as when he says it to you. Sweetie. Sweetie. Sweetieee…

“It’s going to take more than a deeper voice to become me, sweetie.” He says it again as if showing you how it’s done.

“I don’t want to become you, Sylus, I just wanted to try it out. See if it made me feel more in charge and confident, like you.” The alcohol coursing through your system certainly added to your current confidence level.

“Although I take pride in my accomplishments I doubt I got to where I am because of my voice.”

“You never know, I might try it out, see where it takes me.”

“I’d love to hear how it goes.” He chuckles and you just know he’s having more fun with this conversation than he should.

“Don’t laugh at my attempts to toughen up, Sylus!” Your high pitched screech is far from commanding or tough.

“I’m sorry, kitten. But if you want some advice from the master, I’d tell you to find your own voice in the world and not strive to copy that of others. Your own force is stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, right…” You huff.

“You won me over pretty easily. And unless you see me as weak and pliable, there is no denying you possess a great deal of power already.”

“Sylus… You’re making me blush.” You can’t help but feel a bit annoyed at him for claiming you have any power over him, when he so easily makes you crumble.

“However, back to the situation at hand. I doubt your sudden honesty on this topic came about all on its own. Where are you? How much have you had to drink?”

“I told you that’s none of your concern!”

“Well, here we have yet another example of your power over me. I’m worried, sweetie… So, if you won’t tell me where you are, I’ll send Mephisto to search for you.”

“Please don’t! I’m waiting for a taxi, and one is pulling up in front of me right now.” If there is one thing your brewing headache does not need it’s that horrible metallic caw caw caw.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep talking until I have proof you’ve arrived home safely.” Sylus’ calm demand sends a shiver down your spine. Was he always this soft-hearted, or are you too drunk to tell the difference between care and control?

“Fine. We can keep talking.”

“You wanted to know if I had landed any good deals lately. I have. But none that come close to the agreement you and I just came to, even if it was partially due to you not wanting Mephisto to sniff you out.”

“Is that how he finds me? By scent?” You question, disgusted by the thought. You hear Sylus laughing and can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Let’s save that for another time. You’ll need some more leverage before you try to coax out all my secrets, sweetie. But when you’re ready to try, please do it using your own voice. I’m certain it will get the job done.”

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✎ AN: I have to admit, I'm not really a Sylus girlie, but the way he expresses his adoration for MC (in the game, I'm not necessarily referring to how I portrayed him here, although I hope it's reminiscent of the "real" Sylus) makes me swoon. He's so loving and almost poetic when he talks to us.

⋆ Read more ⋆ Masterlist ⋆

-Colonel Kaboom

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace sylus #lads fluff #lads fanfic #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus lads

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admirationandromantics · 3 months ago

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A Traumatic Event to Bring us Closer

Okay, so this was not a request (though I know someone in the request box have asked for angsty Josh fics, I promise, they're coming soon), but I fiddled around with a Psycho-Josh character ai-thingy, and wanted to do something inspired by that. A little longer than what I usually write, but the words started flowing and I couldn't stop.

Warnings. This does include mentions or the fear of dying, torture, and so on (all of these are scare-tactics and will not happen). Obsessive and possessive Josh. This also contains reader getting severely injured as well as blood and extreme stress... Aka ANGSTY. What I'm trying to say is if you can't read that, then I would advice you not to!

Anyways, it starts right after having seen Josh die to the construction of the Psycho, and now, the others have ran, and you try to catch up with them.

Word count: 5,5k

I run out of the shed, trying to catch up with Ashley and Chris. As soon as they saw the Maniac inside, they ran, hoping to get away from him. I was busy crying, mourning Josh… My Josh… Who this psycho cut in half with a saw.

When I saw him, my panic rose, heart throbbing in fear and heartbreak. He was wearing overalls, a shirt and a scary clown mask, slowly walking towards me. This made me turn on my heel and go, taking me to my current position: running for my life. I keep on the path, not a lot of snow underneath after everyone who walked there. The air is freezing, making my wet faze unbearably cold. My hand goes to my cheeks, trying to brush away some of it while keeping up the pace. I look behind me, seeing the man running rapidly after, his legs longer and faster, slowly catching up to me.

“Ashley! Chris!” I scream, hoping some of them hear me, but I wouldn’t count on it. They started running a while before me, leaving me with this madman. As I look forward again, my foot gets caught in a root, making my body slam down into the ground harshly. My head hurts, ringing while I try to stand up again. Suddenly, I feel something grab my ankle, and I look down to see him again, bending down while holding onto me.

I fight against him, kicking and screaming while trying to rip my foot away from him. But his grip is strong, and he keeps holding on, a low, scary chuckle sounding from under the mask. Even his shoulders move up and down from his laugh, and how entertained he is. I try to scream for help again, listing everyone I know who are up on the mountain. This seems to bother him, and he drags me further towards him, slowly working up my body while I struggle.

His face comes closer to my ear, one of his hands grabbing my hair roughly, yanking me backwards, making me sit up on my knees as he drags me. I wish I had the pain tolerance to fight back, but his hand in my hair and the other around my neck. I oblige, letting him pull me up on my feet, my back against him. My hands go to the one around my neck, silently begging him to loosen the grip. I use the last air I have to conjure a few weak words.

“Get off me you maniac!”

This seems to get on his nerves even more, yanking my hair harder and tightening his grip around my neck, making an involuntary plea escape what’s left of my throat. I hear his dark chuckle again, how he enjoys the situation, liking to be in control of me.

Suddenly, the hand leaves my neck, and I take a few deep breaths, trying to regulate myself. Instead of choking me, his hand grabs both my wrists, placing them behind me, the previous hand in my hair moving to my stomach, pulling me deeper into him. I can feel his hot breath on my ear, his face coming too close for comfort. His exhales come out quickly past each other, annoyingly like he’s amused by my resentment.

“What’s wrong you coward? So ugly you don’t even dare to show your face?” I taunt, pulling at my arms with all my might. After what he did to Josh, there was no way I was going to be nice. He killed my love, and when he kills me too, I’ll put up a fight.

At my remark, his hand moves up to my face, grabbing my jaw and pulling my head back on his shoulder. I hum, looking up in the cloudy sky, still trying to free myself. But at the end of the day, there’s no use. He overpowers me easily, both in size and strength. His irritation seems to be growing, but he still keeps up that amused tone in his dark voice.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Princess”

There’s something oddly familiar in the way he calls me that name. There’s actually something familiar in his voice alone, but I can’t place it. His hand moves slowly down my neck again, pushing down slightly, making me let out a painful wince. I stand still, hoping that he’ll not be as rough with his next movements.

“That’s what I thought, now keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, just like good old Josh did”

The comment sets something off in me, a rage I didn’t know I had. My chest burns unlike before, but I don’t know if it’s due to the cold or my anger. Maybe a combination.

“All quiet and whimpering while in the hands of a scary man like me…” He taunts, and I start squirming, trying to free myself.

“Scary man, where? All I see is an ugly fucking coward” I state, stopping my movements. Every time I try, I get reminded of his strength. He grips my upper neck tightly, tilting my head in his direction. A displeased huff escapes his mask, hot breath coating my neck. He makes me look up at him, seeing blue eyes through the holes of the mask. I make sure my distaste for him is shown through my stare.

“You’re not the one in control here, I am. So you better watch that damn tongue, Princess” he growls, his voice still not recognizable.

“Or what, you’ll kill me? Just like you murdered Josh?”

I can basically feel his sick smile under the mask, struggling to keep in that little laugh from the mention of his name. The action makes my blood boil. How dare he.

“You better behave yourself, or else-”

“Or else what?” I interrupt him, making his grip on me harder. But I can still take it, so I keep up my insults. “Struggling to threaten a girl, huh? Easier with an unconscious guy who you could do whatever you pleased with?” I spit out, reminding him of when he took Josh. It’s safe to assume he doesn’t have the strength to have held him like this, and probably gassed him down like he did with Ashley. He grunts in response, done with my shit.

“Think you’re such a smartass, huh? If you keep this attitude up, I’ll have no other choice than to shut you up”

“I’d like to see you try” I counter, breathing heavily and starting to feel my energy drain.

“Oh… would you now?” He teases, moving us both. I follow, not having enough energy to fight a losing battle. He turns me around, holding my wrists above my head, my back meeting a tree. I feel a small branch making contact with my lower thigh, hurting it. I try to keep my poker face, not having time to think about a small scratch. I look him up and down, now seeing his outfit in the light. It’s bloody and dirty, his mask horrid up close.

“Sick fuck” I whisper, not giving in easily. He squeezes my wrists harder, making me let out a small whimper in pain. Another chuckle escapes him, finding pleasure in my situation.

“Not backing down yet, aren’t you tired Princess, just give in”

“I’ll be a pain in your ass until you kill me, might as well get it over with” I say, standing firm on my ground. At least the ground I can reach from how high up he’s holding me against the tree. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue a couple of times as if he’s disappointed. I take this as a time to shout for the other, hoping that someone will hear me.

“Ashley! Chris! I’m here, help me!”

My yells are interrupted by his gloved hand coming to cover my mouth. I keep up, struggling against his grip while still shouting, though they only come out as muffles beneath him.

“Stop your damn fighting, just give up already. You’re wasting your energy” He complains, strengthening his grip on me. I stop, taking a deep breath and completely relaxing on him, being as silent as a mouse.

“That’s it, you look so much better when you’re not struggling like some wild animal in my arms” he compliments, hand on my mouth being slowly removed.

Just as I feel his grip loosen just the slightest, my knee comes up to kick him in the balls. I fail, but it still hits him hard in his lower stomach, making him let go and slightly bend over in pain. I don’t hesitate, starting to run down the path while he throws curses at me.

“Fucking bitch, get back here!”

I look behind me for just a second, seeing that he’s already recovered and is running a little further behind me. I shout for the others, but no one answers. I continue down the path, trying to remember all the slippery parts, doing my best not to fall on them.

“You’re not getting away that easily!” He shouts, voice closer than before. He’s got long legs, it will not be long until he catches up to me. I take a right, seeing the lodge in the distance. This gives me hope, and I keep my pace up, trying to get there in time. My heart’s beating in my throat, rapidly, chest burning from exhaustion.

I jump up the small set of stairs, quick to open the door and get inside. I see him arriving, and I lock it, hoping he won’t break it down. I take a breath, pulse high as I watch him pound on the door. I still don’t feel safe, so I run further inside, taking a quick look to see if the others are here. I can’t see them, but I decide that barricading myself in my own room must be the best option. The pounding has stopped, and I can imagine he’s working on getting inside another way. He wouldn’t know which room was mine either, and would probably think that I moved down to the cellar, knowing there’s a network of tunnels down there.

I run up the stairs, legs almost giving out from exhaustion. As I arrive outside my room, I take the handle silently, working on getting myself in quickly, without making a sound. I lock it, turning to the side and dragging one of the smaller closets in front of it. After I’m done, I breathe out, a little tension leaving my body. The adrenaline starts wearing off, and with that, the pain in my leg gets worse.

“Smart move, Princess…”

My body freezes before I can turn, knowing the voice from before. My breathing quickens yet again, making my chest hurt, sore from the cold and all the running. I turn around fearfully, seeing him sit on the chair beside the bed, leaned back and relaxed. Before my brain can follow, I grab the closet, dragging it back. He stands up, taking hold of my arm and dragging me away from the door, easily pushing the furniture back in front of it.

“N-no, get away from me” I try, but my voice breaks, all the yelling, and the cold temperature having ruined it. It sounds weak, defeated. He chuckles, a smile behind the mask, his eyes mad. He grabs both my hands, throwing me down on the bed. I whimper, feeling my thigh hurt as it makes contact with the sheets. I look down quickly, noticing blood running down it. I try moving it a little, making sure that there’s some pressure on it. He doesn’t notice, and continues to manhandle me, collecting my wrists above my head, his other hand caressing my cheek. I turn away, earning a cackle from him. My body stops fighting, knowing it’ll worsen the bleeding and the fact that I’m no match for him in my weakened state.

“Please leave me alone, what do you want?”

“Oh, I want you, Princess”

The nickname makes me sick, and I do my best not to look at him, his clothing, or at his mask. I look to the side, seeing the door, barricaded by no other person than me. I can’t jump out the window, since it’s the second story, so now, I’m completely trapped.

“And what are you going to do to me?”

“Anything I want…” he says, voice lower and not as tense. I don’t fight, I can’t fight anymore. I just want Josh, I want him back. There’s no point in anything anymore. This trip was a chance for me to finally confess, to tell him everything. And instead, I watched him die. Die to this psycho man. I feel tears form in my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face, warming me up after being outside.

“Why are you doing this to me, why did you kill Josh?”

He stays quiet for a few moments, his head leaning down to me, his mouth beside my ear, finally answering.

“He didn’t deserve to live after what he put me and my sisters through” he says, an amusing tone to the statement. I look up at him, confused.

“You and your sisters?”

“Yes, me and my sisters?”

“He would never do anything to hurt anyone” I counter, not believing him. What could he have done to make someone hate him so? And hate his friends as well, wanting to hurt them.

“Who are you?”

He chuckles in his distorted and dark voice, keeping himself close as he speaks.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? Keeping you clueless gives me such a thrill”

I wiggle against his arms, trying with the small energy I have to free myself. He hardens his grip, not letting me move an inch.

“Still trying to escape?”

“You’ll have to kill me to make me stop. Just like you did with Josh”

He laughs, gloved hand caressing my neck, fingers gracing over the place he choked me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the area was red already. Luckily, it doesn’t hurt.

“You keep bringing him up, was he really that important to you?” he teases, and I give up fighting again, trying to regain some of my energy. Maybe I can do the same I did in the forest, but doing that, I needed to control myself first.

“I’ll make you pay for what you did to him” I state, voice still weak, but not faltering.

“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that, Princess?”

“By killing you” I say again, voice steady and firm. I want to hurt this man, I want to kill him.

“Wow, and tell me, how will you do that?”

I imagine it, having him being beat up by the boys, before opening up, letting me use a knife and carve stuff into him, slowly cutting him up while he’s still alive. Hearing his pleas while keeping up the pace. Maybe I am insane, but I’ve never in my life had such violent fantasies about a person. Up until now.

“With a knife… slowly, painful”

“How exciting, but I don’t think you have it in you. You don’t seem like someone who can kill another human”

“Good it’s a monster I’m killing then” I counter, the reply coming faster than my brain can process it. But he doesn’t get mad or irritated though. Instead, he lets out a condescending laugh, shaking his head. I keep prying, still curious.

“Who are you?” I ask again, wanting an answer.

“You’re right, I am a monster” he says, his free hand moving down to my waist. I lean back, broken and defeated. This was not worth it, none of it was. I could’ve stayed home, not knowing about Josh, not being in this situation.

“Aww, too tired to fight me, but you were so fiery a while ago” He taunts, but I don’t bite. I stay silent, not saying or reacting in any way. That’s what he wants after all, reactions. Wasn’t that the point of having me watch him kill Josh?

“Just kill me, please” I plead, hoping he does, and hopefully quickly. I can’t imagine doing anything differently than now. I just want to see him, to hold him. To be in this room with him, both of us giddy and happy.

“Tell me, why would you rather die than live?” he asks, sounding oddly curious, head tilting beside me. I can feel the fake hair of the mask running over my collar as he moves.

“Let me see Josh again…”

He leans back, almost surprised by my answer. He lets go of my hands, standing back on the floor, watching me. I try sitting up, my whole body aching in pain from the small movements. I’m not going to make it out of here, not alive anyhow. If he doesn’t kill me, then my movements will probably open the wound on my thigh again, making me bleed out. I already feel a bit pale and dizzy.

“You’re in a woman’s worst imaginable situation, and you would die… to see Josh again?” He asks, voice full of confusion, not as scary as before. Maybe it’s because I don’t care anymore, but he seems so surprised he falls a bit out of character. Who is he under that mask?

I nod my head to the question, tears still flowing. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel them anymore. My mouth acts before my brain, and I blurt out the secret words I’ve been holding on to since last year.

“I love him”

“A bit honest now, are we?”

“Doesn’t everyone get honest when their lives are about to end?” I counter, shaking my head a bit. At least that’s what I’ve heard.

“Yes, I suppose they do”

“Aren’t you going to take advantage of me? Hurt me? Kill me?”

He sits down on the chair again, watching my face intently. I don’t move, after all, everything hurts. Everything and nothing at once. Because of him, because of Josh.

“No I will not, now tell me, before you die, is there something else you wish to be truthful about?”

I shake my head, not knowing why, but I can’t stop myself. I need to have said it out loud at least once, telling the world the things I should’ve said before. My voice is emotionless as I start, not knowing what to feel.

“I love Josh, I always have. I wish I told him while he was still here, before he was killed… by you”

I look up, but the mask is making it hard to see his expression. At the thought of his death, I feel my anger flare again, but my body is still too weak to act on it.

“Honestly… admitting your feelings, displaying wishes and regrets. Now tell me, how long have you had these feelings? And how long have you wanted to tell him?”

“The only one I’m telling those things to is Josh”

He snickers, that nasty dark voice back. As if he deserves to know my secrets, the extent of my feelings.

“Of course you’re refusing to tell me, too shy? Or what, Princess?”

“I imagined everything would be different than how it turned out this year” I admit, not bothering to answer his teasing remarks. He’s making fun of my pain, and I’ll not answer that.

“Oh, you were thinking that you and Josh were going to be the ones in your room? And doing what? Feeling each other, kissing? Well, we can’t have that, can we? If I didn’t kill him, I wouldn’t have you all to myself”

I look up, but I can’t bother trying to show my contempt. I’m so tired, so exhausted. Even making faces and harsh comments take their toll on me. I speak, but it’s slow and emotionless.

“I know that statement is meant to fill me with a bunch of questions, but I don’t care about them”

He hums, nodding his head as he takes it in, knowing his method didn’t work. I still keep my posture, not moving myself from it. He stares at me intently, looking deep into my glossy eyes, still wet and red.

“You just don’t care anymore what happens to you, do you?”

I hum, not giving a verbal answer. He sits himself forward, hand rubbing together, as if in thought.

“You admit it? The fact that you’ve lost all care?”

I hum again, not knowing where he’s getting at.

“Completely broken, completely empty”

I sigh, sick and tired of his mind games. I know what he’s playing at, it’s the same banter I’ve heard people try to use before.

“You know you’ve basically said the same thing three times now? Josh was a lot more original with his wording than you”

I can feel his smirk grow from under the mask, a small laughter escaping his lips as he sits up again. He tilts his head, his distorted voice sounding from under there.

“Making comparisons, are we?”

“You can’t compare an angel to a demon” I answer, thinking back about him. What would he say if he were here? He would’ve saved me at least. I don’t know if he’s stronger than this man. Truth is, they’ve got quite the similar build, so I don’t know. If I helped him, we might be able to.

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he says, and I don’t answer. He can think about it however he likes, I’ll not sit here and explain it to him. Another chuckle comes over him, enjoying the change in my attitude. I keep my eyes on him, not as afraid anymore. My adrenaline is not pumping as much anymore, and the pain starts worsening.

“Not answering anymore, Princess?”

Again, here’s something strangely familiar with the nickname as well. I can swear that someone I know has called me that before, but only a few times, not as much as this guy does. How does he know me?

“The only one I want to talk to is Josh… when I see him again”

“Josh, Josh, Josh… Why would you only talk to him in particular?”

I let out a small scoff. This madman is not that dumb. He’s been collecting information about all of us, so my declaration did not go over his head a couple of minutes ago.

“You already know, because he’s the love of my life” I state, not having said exactly those words before. It’s true, since we were kids, I loved him. Platonically at first, but it evolved, and got stronger. And now, it’s too late.

“Finally, someone’s being honest with themselves”

I lower my eyes, looking over at his piercing stare. His eyes still got a hint of amusement in them. I want to change that, I want to hurt him, kill him.

“I’m the only honest person in this room” I state, trying to seduce him into talking.

“I guess I haven’t told you much, but do you really expect me to?”

“I want to know something before I die” I lean forward, ignoring the striking pain in my thigh. That movement definitely opened my wound again, and I feel streaks of hot redness running down my leg.

“Ask anything, and I’ll see if I can be honest with you”

My question is ready, it has been since the first time I heard his voice. The anticipation and wondering is driving me crazy.

“Who are you”

He smiles under the mask, there’s no denying it, already having heard the same question several times before.

“My identity? All you want to know is who I am?”

“Yes”

He nods his head, amused by my straight forward request. I try to keep my reply short, after all, getting this information out of him means no side-tracking.

“Well, since you’ve been so cooperative for the time being, I’ll be honest”

I wait, trying to hide my curiosity. It’s not hard to mask it, pain overtaking me anyway.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to know? Not going to guess, make some assumptions?”

“No” I state firmly, not taking any more of his bullshit.

“I am… an individual who doesn’t always feel like himself”

I sigh, hand going to my thigh, trying to slow the bleeding.

“Are you that much of a coward? Can’t answer a simple question?”

“Fine, okay, okay… I’m someone who doesn’t always feel… human”

I sigh again, a small part of me realising that we might not come to an agreement. I try a different direction, mumbling something underneath my breath, just high enough that he can hear it.

“If you’re that ugly, you can just say so. I won’t judge”

“What did you just say?”

And he took the bait.

“Nothing”

His head shifts to me, sitting straighter. He’s offended, I know he is. If I can continue playing on his ego, maybe I’ll get my answer.

“No. ‘If you're that ugly, you can just say so’, is that what you said, Princess?”

“I don’t remember” I lie, shaking my head weakly.

“Excuse me? You suddenly don’t remember, as if I’m supposed to believe that”

“I’m sleep deprived, haven’t had water in many hours, body exhausted from running, and I’m bleeding out. All factors can lead to struggles to remember things”

He nods his head, suddenly stopping and looking up at me.

“You’re bleeding?”

He looks over me, seeing my leg, covered in red. It’s still oozing out, but it will still take a while for me to die from it. His body starts twitching, as if panicked.

“Why didn’t you say so?” he asks, sounding a bit worried. I’m taken by surprise as he runs over to the closet grabbing a few sheets and ripping them up into smaller pieces. Has he been in the lodge before? Maybe he uses it when the Washingtons aren’t here. He comes back, kneeling down, starting to wrap them around me. I stop him, pushing his hands away.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you?”

He looks up, meeting my eyes through the mask. They almost look sad, guilty.

“A monster…”

He shifts his gaze, turning his attention back to my wound. He reaches behind into another drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors, starting to cut up my pants, making the wound more exposed. As he rips the fabric off, he throws the sharp object out the open window, with surprising accuracy. Probably to keep me from getting my hands on it and stabbing him.

“Does this monster have a name?”

He sighs, finishing up wrapping my thigh, stopping the bleeding.

“My name is… Josh”

My eyes widen, shaking my head as I try to push myself away from him. I can’t, my leg hurting too much to move. This is another sick trick to mess with me, to mess with my feelings. He notes my expression, my shocked eyes and disgust.

“What, don’t you believe me? Don’t you think I’m being honest?”

“This might seem funny to you, but I saw you kill him you fucker. Don’t you dare taint his name like this” I state, fury rushing through my body. He chuckles darkly again, the sympathy that once was there for me, gone.

“You really don’t believe me. I’m your childhood friend, your high school crush and college study partner. I’m Joshua Washington” he whispers, coming closer to me. I can sense the amusement and glory radiating from him, and it makes me sick.

“You’re not, you’re hiding behind that damn mask of your like a coward, trying to make me believe your lies”

“Don’t want to accept the truth, huh?” he asks, voice a bit less disoriented. He’s changing his voice as he speaks, but I won’t have it.

“It’s not the truth, he’s dead, you killed him!” I scream, leaning closer to his face, as much as I can in my condition.

“Oh princess, I’m right in front of you”

“The only thing right in front of me is a monster. A psychopath in a mask, claiming to be Josh, my Josh. You’re not tricking me”

He laughs, his voice changing more and more, getting less darker and more real. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, he looks up at me again.

“Are you really that hard-headed?”

“Why should I believe anything you say? You have no support for your claims, you’re even down in negatives, because he is dead!” I shout, voice still broken and hoarse. My throat hurts, feeling like I’m ripping off a bandaid every time I form a word.

“Oh, you want evidence?”

“You don’t have any”

He chuckles, hands going up to the base of his mask. He takes a breath, slowly pulling it off. I watch as he does, waiting patiently while he drags it off his head. Finally, he reveals himself.

I can’t believe my eyes, and I furrow my brows in confusion. This doesn’t make any sense, this doesn’t work, no. How can this be? I saw him die, I saw him get cut in half by a saw. I’ve been running from a crazy maniac who was going to kill me, and it was all him. I’ve poured my heart out, thinking I was going to die, and he’s been sitting here, laughing at me.

“Surprise, princess”

“No”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

I shake my head, seeing his smile as he keeps nodding, contradicting me.

“You’re not real”

“I’m sitting right in front of you”

I reach my hand out, fingers gracing over his cheek, feeling his skin. His hand comes up to mine, pressing it further in on him. He leans on it, still a smile on his face. I feel tears start to flow down my cheeks again. He’s alive, he’s here.

“Y-you…”

He nods, urging me to continue, but I don’t. I can’t use my words, I don’t know what to say, so he talks instead, voice beaming with pleasure and delight. His eyes are not like I remember. There’s a sort of darkness to them, insanity.

“Yes Princess, it’s me, no more games, no tricks, no lies. It’s just me, just Josh”

I shake my head, pulling my hand away from him, earning a hurt look back. These words, these explanations, these events. This is not the Josh I know.

“You don’t sound like yourself, you don’t behave like this”

“You’re right! So much has changed in the last year, oh I can’t begin to tell you all my plans for the others” he exclaims, walking around the room, being happy.

“What?”

“Well, this was all a traumatic event to bring us closer, right? The relief in your eyes when it was me. You needed to lose me to finally be able to tell someone, so why not tell me yourself!?”

“What the hell, Josh” I whimper, head hurting from it all.

“Oh, but this is just the start! Now, it’s time to get revenge for my sisters, and after that, we can be together, right? I mean, I never meant for you to get hurt, but it's okay because now you can stay here while I play out the other things I’ve got planned. As long as you stay here, you’ll be safe, just as I want you to be”

I stand up, pain shooting through my body as I do. I feel desperate, too desperate. I need the others, and my voice is almost all used up. He watches me intently, hands going around my body to steady me. I shove past him, walking over to the door, starting to push the dresser. He just watches, wondering if I’ll be able to do it. Luckily, I manage, standing on my only good leg. I unlock the door, which makes him walk over, taking hold of me.

“No, we can’t have any of that, get down again” he commands, sitting me down on the bloodied bed again, walking over and locking the door.

“What are you going to do to me? Just do it now and get it over with, shoot me, dissect me… Please”

He laughs, looking at me as if I’ve made a joke.

“Oh, Princess, you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

I’m silent, not daring to answer. He stops laughing, noticing my expression. He then shakes his head, standing up and walking around the room again. He looks troubled, and a little worried, like he’s fighting a battle against himself.

“No, there’s nothing to be scared of, I’m making sure that you’re safe, so nothing happens to you, you understand, yeah you do! Think about that while I finish up the prank, okay? I’ll be up to check on you in a while”

He walks to the door, taking the key from inside, opening it, and locking it from outside. I look around, his skull-clown mask on the ground, bloodied fabric, bloody bed and the open window. Crisp, cold winter air flowing inside. I don’t know what to do.

115 notes · View notes

strniohoeee · 2 years ago

Text

Stainless

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is a virgin who so badly wants to have sex with Matt, but she’s scared. However when they’re alone in the triplets house things take a turn….this is for the two requests I got for a virgin reader having soft sex with Matt🥹

Warnings⚠️: This is soft cute sex. Virginity lose, and that’s about it 🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: J’s Lullaby(darlin I’d wait for you) Delaney Bailey

⚠️This is an 18+ story, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Matt and I had been dating for roughly 7 months at this point. These past 7 months have been the best months of my life. I was surrounded by 3 people I loved, and making memories that would last forever

About five months into the relationship is when Matt and I finally decided to tell their fan base. Since I was always in their videos, some fans started to notice some vibes between the both of us.

Honestly I was petrified to tell them because a lot of their fans were super protective over them, and I’m a sensitive girl. I didn’t want to get any hate. Surprisingly we received way more love, and the occasional hate from some 14 year old, but nothing to make me feel any type of way.

Constantly Matt and I would watch shipping edits of us, some that even showed how we acted like a couple months before we even started dating. We loved it so much

Other times I would watch edits on my own of us, or just of Matt, and the comments had my jaw on the floor.

“I know he gives y/n the pounding of her life”

“He’s a skinny white boy. You know he be laying that pipeeeee”

“Poor y/n…..I know he be tearing her shit up”

Although these comments made me laugh, they also made me blush from embarrassment because they couldn’t have been further from the truth. I was a virgin, and Matt and I had only really made out and got handsy. Usually I’d break away and stop it, and he respected it and never said anything about it.

I knew he wanted to have sex because he’s a 20 year old man, and I for sure wanted to have sex because?? We’ll have you seen Matt??

But in the back of my mind I was so fucking nervous. I had never ever had sex. I’ve never given a handjob, a blow job, a hickey…..I’ve never even seen Matt’s dick.

Many times I would crave this intimacy, but I always allowed my fear to get to the best of me. However I was more than ready to have sex with the love of my life, Matt.

Matt and I were alone at their house since Chris and Nick had an event that Matt really could care less for. We spent the whole day together, and now we were currently in his room watching a movie

The whole time I kept thinking about having sex with Matt, and what it would be like. If I’d be bad, nervous or just out right not cut out for losing my virginity.

“Matt…” I said waiting for him to look over at me

“Yeah?” He said looking over and smiling at me

“Can I ask you something?” I said

“Of course baby” he responded back as he paused the movie

“Do you want to have sex with me?” I asked him, and to this his eyebrows raised

“In general or right now?” He asked laughing a little bit

“In general” I told him

“I mean it’s not something that’s necessarily crossed my mind. Of course I get urges, and want to have sex, but it’s not something my mind is always on.” He responded

“Well how come?” I asked him

“I mean I just care about you, and making you laugh and smile, and spending time with you. I just love to be in your company” he said back

“Oh….well have you ever thought of having sex with me…like at all??” I asked him

“I mean sure. Whenever we’ve had heated make out sessions it has crossed my mind. You know? It’s like I think to myself could this go further” he told me

“Oh…” I responded

“Have you thought of having sex with me?” He asked

“Mmm quite often actually” I said being completely honest

“Oh?” He said starting to blush

“But I know I always pull away before it goes any further” I told him

“Yeah, but I don’t mind at all” he said smiling at me for reassurance

“I guess I’m just scared” I said

“Scared of what?” He asked me with a head tilt

“Well I’m a virgin” I told him

“Oh” he said actually shocked

“Yeah, and I just never felt like I could move forward. Not because of you! I know I want to lose my virginity to you, but because I’m so afraid of being bad, or too nervous that it doesn’t work out” I said to him

“I get that. Losing your virginity is very intimate, and for sure scary. That’s valid” he said to me

“I was thinking maybe we could have sex” I told him

“Yeah of course” he said nodding his head and smiling

“Tonight” I then responded

“Tonight?” He said surprised

“Yes. I think I’m ready for tonight” I told him

“Okay. Then tonight it is” he said leaning over and kissing me

Matt and I had been making out for a good five minutes

“Are you doing okay?” He asked looking into my eyes

“Yes Matt I’m doing great” I said giving him a smile

Matt had kissed down to my neck. Leaving light kisses that were making me burn up inside. He had removed his shirt, and I removed mine as well

“Can I take your bra off?” He asked me leaning back a little bit

“Of course” I said shyly

Matt reaches behind as I lift up, so that he could unclip my bra. Slowly pulling it off of me, and allowing my breast to fall exposed

I started to blush. Never allowing a man to see me this way causing me to get a little shy

“Don’t get shy on me baby. You look perfect” he said giving me a sly smile

Matt had started to kiss my neck, and slowly went down to my breast. Massaging both breast before taking one into his mouth

“Oh Matt” I said in a whisper as my eyes fluttered shut

He then went down to the valley of my breast, and started to kiss down leaving sloppy kisses on my stomach. I was aching for his touch.

He kissed both hip bones before looking up at me

“Can I take your pants off?” He asked, and I nodded

He started to take my pants off as I lifted up a little for him to get them fully off. Matt in return removed his sweat pants as well

He went back to kissing above my underwear. This feeling alone left my hair rising and my thigh quivering

Matt laid next to me, and started to kiss me soon breaking away

“Okay baby. I have to stretch you out” he said. I turned my head towards him and agreed

Slowly he trailed his hand down to my underwear. Slightly dipping his hand in to massage my pelvic area before completely sticking his hand down my underwear

“Open wider baby” he told me, and I allowed my legs to open up more for him

“Perfect” he said, kissing me, and then he slid his hand all the way down coating his fingers in my arousal before bringing them back up to massage my clit

I just gasped and opened my mouth as Matt and I kept looking at each other

“Feeling okay?” He asked

“I feel so good Matt” I told him licking my now dry lips

Math started to rub my clit in circular motions. Allowing me to squirm and moan at this foreign feeling.

“Okay baby this may hurt” he said before sinking his middle finger to my entrance. He was looking into my eyes as he slowly started to insert his finger into me

This was a burning stretch I’ve never felt before, causing my eyes to shut and my brows to furrow

“Ow Matt” I said finally opening my eyes

“Too much? I can stop” he said reading my face

“No no keep going” I told him, and so he did. He slowly started to rock his fingers in and out curving them up to hit my G spot

“Oh fuck” I moaned out

“That feels so fucking good” I said as he started to rub my clit with his thumb

Slowly he inserted his ring finger. This burn was something that almost made me stop him, but I wanted this way too much for him to stop now.

Once he got the second finger in he started to pump in and out at a come here motion

“Oh Matt….ive never felt something like this” I told him as my mouth fell open

“Does it feel good?” He asked

“So so good” I said whispering the last part

He was slowly fingering me for 5 more minutes before he decided to stop

“Do you think you’re ready?” He asked me

“I think so” I told him, Matt removed his underwear and my mouth fell open

“Matt….I don’t know that that will fit in me” I said almost laughing

“Baby don’t boost my ego. It will fit” he said blushing and biting his lip

“This will hurt, so I’m going to go slow, and if it’s too much I’ll stop” he said

“Okay thank you” I whispered to him

Matt had both arms on either side of my head and was looking into my eyes

“Ready?” He asked one more time

“Yes Matt I’m very ready” I told him

Matt grabbed his dick with his right hand and slowly started to push the tip in. Looking up at you to read your face. He slowly started to push the tip in, and as he started to get in is when you winced

“Fuck Matt that hurts” I said gripping his left arm with my right hand

“Want me to stop?” He asked

“No no keep going” I told him

He slowly started to insert himself into me. Paying close attention to my face. Soon he was all the way in, and he let out a sigh

“So perfect,” he said, moving my hair out of my face. Matt was allowing my vaginal walls to relax around him before moving

“You can move” I told him, and so he did. Slowly sliding back and then in. My pussy was still stretching and burning around his dick

He was letting out little moans that were making me so wet.

Slowly Matt started to pick up his pace. Sliding in and out of me in such a delicious way

“Fuck Matt you can go a little faster” I told him

Matt started to thrust into me a little faster and I was completely losing my mind. If sex felt this good, why was I waiting this long?

“Matt this feels so good” I said moaning

“You feel so fucking good around me” he said moaning the last part

Matt had gotten a little more on his knees, and allowed his arms to bend. Coming down closer to me our chests were touching, and his head was right next to my ear

I could hear his pants into my ear as he was thrusting into me

“Fuck Matt you sound hot” I told him pulling his hair at the back of his head

“Yeah?” He said in a breathy tone

“Yes…so so hot” I said as I continued to pull at his hair

Matt continued to thrust into me becoming a sweaty and groaning mess above me

“I’m going to start rubbing your clit, and you’ll be able to cum in no time” he told me before snaking his right hand down to my clit starting to rub

“OH MY GOD” I screamed out at the intense sensation I was feeling

“Too much?” He asked looking at me

“No no just right keep going. Fuck Matt I think I’m going to cum” I told him as I started to clench on his cock causing him to moan

Matt was fucking into me at a good pace and rubbing my clit, going in between slow and fast circular motions

“Matt Matt Matt” I said scratching his back and clenching down on him harder

“Come on baby! You can do it for me” he said rubbing his fingers faster

“I’m going to cum. Fuck fuck fuck” I said shutting my eyes and throwing my head back even more

“Come on. Come on give it to me” he said into my ear

“FUCKKKKK MATTT” I screamed out as I started to convulse and tremble. My orgasm completely washing over me. I was seeing white and my legs were shaking as I was cumming so hard. Slowly I started to come down my from my high with heavy breathing and dry lips

Matt pulled out of me when I stopped twitching around him. I felt weird without his dick in me. He started to pump his cock

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” he said kissing my lips

He pulled away and his lower abdomen started to contract as his mouth fell and his brows furrowed. He looked into my eyes as he came all over his hand and my lower stomach. Slowly coming down from his high and rolling onto his back next to me

“Matt that was amazing” I said looking over at him

“Was it? You don’t have to lie” he said catching his breath

“No matt. It was amazing, and you were so careful with me I appreciate it” I said rolling over to my side and kissing him on the cheek

“Anything for my pretty lady. I love you” he said looking over at me

“I love you too Matt” I said smiling at him

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Follow me let’s shower” he said and grabbed my hands

When I got off the bed my legs completely gave out on me and I almost fell to the ground

“Oh my god Matt…my legs are fucking jello” I said laughing as he grabbed me and helped me walk to his bathroom

“I’m sorry baby” he said also laughing

“I can now say Matt Sturniolo has made me weak in the knees physically” I responded laughing

“Shut up” he said all shyly as he turned on the hot water and let me step in first

We had showered together, and then spent the night watching movies until we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! And for the two people that requested this I hope I didn’t disappoint, and I’m so sorry it took forever for me to get this out 🥹❤️❤️

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplet smut #matthew sturniolo smut #Spotify

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vampirejuno · 3 months ago

Text

Remember that discworld dream I had the other day? Well, lads.... I wrote it. At the encouragement of @catstrophysics, @lilenariinpink and @theygotlost, I present to you...

Something Fishy

His Grace, His Excellency, Sir Samuel Vimes the Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor, sighed emphatically and tried to shoulder his way through the throng. Sator Square was packed with people. Never before in his life, he reflected, had he ever seen such a crowd turn up at six in the bloody morning to watch what was, essentially, a man tossing a dead fish onto the ground. Is this what passes for entertainment these days? he thought bitterly. We used to be a great city when it came to entertainment. After some further consideration of past greatness, he stopped, shook his head, and silently offered praise to whatever god was responsible for making sure it stayed in the past.

It had been a little over a month since the Fish Craze, and already Vimes wished he could permanently ban the import of all seafood into the city. Nobody remembered what had started it, but the fad had spread faster than wildfire, with no fashion-brigade to stop the madness. Everyone had taken it up. Even perfectly reasonable people, the kind that sneered at their grannies for fretting over a broken mirror, would, in all sincerity, say things like, “Thank goodness for another Right Day, I could use the luck”, or, more frequently, “No wonder it all went tits up, it was a Left Day”.

Vimes failed to see the appeal. The whole process consisted of taking a fish (preferably a sardine, though most made do with herring or, in desperate times, even anchovies), tossing it in the air, and checking which side up it landed. At first, everyone did it individually. This had led to much disagreement and, eventually, an event that would go down in history as “Most Organic Weapons Riot”. The watchmen who’d been on duty that night were given two days off to try and wash the smell out of their uniforms.

The following day, the Patrician had announced the instatement of an Official Fish Thrower, which soon turned into “the Offishal Tosser”, or simply “the Tosser”, and whose entire job it was to go into Sator Square every morning, toss a sardine for the city, and announce to the enraptured masses what sort of day they were going to have. It was rumored that the Tosser was a retired magician who had specialized in sleight of hand, and that he ensured the fish always landed precisely according to the Patrician’s specifications. Knowing Vetinari, Vimes thought, the man probably has a spreadsheet planned out for a month in advance.

His musings were interrupted by a current of movement in the crowd, which parted hastily to reveal a figure with a tray.

“Right Fish! Get your Right Fish! Guaranteed Day goes Right! Turn your day ��round with just one toss!”

Vimes sighed. Only one man would try to sell you fish at the Offishal Tossing.

“Morning, Throat,” he said distantly. There was a commotion at the front of the crowd as people tried to dislodge someone from the Tosser’s podium. It looked like an Omnian preacher had taken advantage of the audience to spread the good word to the unenlightened masses, whether they liked it or not.

“A good morning to you, Commander! Can I interest you in some nice sardines? Three for tuppence, and that’s cutting my own throat!”

Vimes risked a glance at the tray as Ankh-Morpork’s least successful merchant approached him in a hopeful sidle. It was laden with row upon row of little strangely misshapen fish. Picking one up and turning it over in his fingers, Vimes saw the reason for this. Someone had taken some pains to cut them in two lengthwise, discarded all the left halves, and rejoined the things by gluing two right halves together with some mysterious sticky substance. He put it back down and inconspicuously wiped his hand on his trousers. Like many of Dibbler’s products, it was precisely what you paid for.

“Sardine? Seems more like smelt to me.”

“Yes, very fragrant, indeed,” said the merchant without missing a beat. “Perhaps some fish’n’chips, then, Commander? Only ten pence for our brave lads in the Watch!”

I don’t think I’m that brave, Vimes thought. Aloud, he said, “Is that where the left halves go, then?”

“I don’t know what you mean, sir. Ah, hello, miss, you look like you could do with a nice nourishing breakfast! Some delicious fish’n’chips to start the day off right, how about it?”

The crowd was so packed now – hah, like sardines in a can – that Vimes gave up all hopes of pushing through it. Most of these people had turned up early to get a good spot and were now whiling the minutes away until the much-awaited Tossing. There was a conversation taking place just behind him, where an argument of Morporkians was standing around, doing what it did best. The current object of ire appeared to be a young man’s drawling voice, which was questioning Tradition.

“-don’t see why we couldn’t put a new spin on it. This is…too restrictive, like.”

“How’s that, then?”

“It’s just awfully specific, is all I’m saying.”

“What are you babbling about, Harold?” responded a higher, slightly irritated voice that instantly filed itself away as “unhappy wife” in Vimes’s copper brain.

“I mean, why’s it got to be a sardine? Why not a, uh,” the young man cast around for seafood-related ideas, “a crab, or something?”

“Come now, that’d never work,” a stout little man next to him laughed good-naturedly. He was smoking a pipe and had the look of someone who used words like “indubitably” and “perfunctory” despite only having a very approximate idea of what they meant. “Crabs are not remotely suitable for the task.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Well-known fact,” nodded the crustacean connoisseur. “Divination is congenitally tied to the noble art of fishing, you know. It’s called forecasting, after all.”

There were more nods and approving laughs. The man puffed on his pipe with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with the pun. Vimes managed not to punch him.

“Y’know, that sounds about right. Never ‘eard of someone telling the future with a crab,” an old woman nodded wisely. “You never know where you are with crabs. Now, fish, that’s reliable.”

The group pondered this.

“Look at it this way. We’ve had, what, twenty-three Left Days so far – not counting Floppy Friday* – and every single time, somethin’ bad happened.”

The others murmured their agreement. There were several thoughtful comments recounting various misfortunes that the participants had suffered on past Left Days. Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is Ankh-Morpork, something bad is always happening.”

“Right, that’s what I’m saying,” nodded the young man, who hadn’t been saying that. “Besides, plenty of perfectly good fortune tellers in the city. A man tossing a sardine on the cobbles is not a valid method of divination, in my humble opinion.”

“Harold, you are embarrassing me.”

“Oh, come off it, Mathilda, you got by just fine without any of this business for thirty years of your life. Now it’s all Sardines this, Herring that, Why don’t we get an ornamental trout lake-”

At that moment, the Offishal Tosser stepped onto his little podium, and the couple was shushed into outraged silence.

* * *

“Come on, before ol’ Stoneface gets here. You know he doesn’t approve of this sort of thing.”

The Pseudopolis Yard watch house was buzzing with excitement uncharacteristic for six in the morning on a Wednesday. Most of the night shift had signed off and the day guard were trickling one by one into the main room. An ever-growing group was clustered in a vague circle, in the center of which Corporal Nobbs could just be made out (if that was your idea of a good time). The men all had the vague air of middle school students asking their teacher about his dog in order to delay math class by another five minutes.

“Might that have anything to do with the fact that, last time, it took three hours and a bucket of armour polish to get the smell out of the floorboards?” Angua smiled. It was a very friendly smile.

“Right, sarge, but… We-ell, you’re…”

“Yes?” The smile widened.

Constable Fernsby shifted uncomfortably. There were a few sniggers. It was true that werewolves had considerably sharper senses than humans and would therefore be able to smell a fish long after it had departed the material plane, but, the sniggers seemed to indicate from a safe distance, you didn’t go around pointing this out to them. Fortunately for the boy, he was saved from any further smiles by a very timely interruption in the form of the Captain.

“Good morning! Everyone had a nice rest, I hope? Ready for another day of work?”

Carrot strutted in, wearing his usual genuine smile and gleaming armor. There was a not-so-subtle change in the atmosphere; a sudden nonchalantness enveloped the room. All around him, the squad commenced their very best impression of the Walls And Ceiling Inspection Division. One or two of the simpler lads even clasped their hands behind their backs and started to whistle**. Carrot sighed.

“Alright, what did you do?... And don’t look at me like that, I can see something smells fishy here.”

This was greeted with one or two coughs and a sudden interest in last night’s heaps of paperwork. Only Lance-Constable Whippet, who had joined three days ago and was, therefore, not yet acquainted with the minutiae of his commanding officers’ tempers, and sergeant Detritus, who could be a little slow on the uptake, met the captain’s inquisitive gaze. Finally, he looked to Angua for help. She shrugged meaningfully.

“Well… er,” said Sergeant Colon, who felt obliged to make some sort of contribution on behalf of his insubordinates, “we was just…engaging in some…cultural activities, captain. To boost morale for the day, like. Er.”

Carrot sniffed at the air – never a very good idea in a watch house, where, at any given point in time, half the men had just returned from patrolling and the other half were emerging from the locker room – and understanding began to dawn.

“Ah, I see. And I expect, Sergeant, that such…team-building activities are best carried out without the involvement or presence of, say, senior officers?”

“Could be, sir. I’m sure you’d know best, sir.” Colon’s big round face was a picture of cherubic innocence.

“Well, in that case, I believe Sergeant Angua and I have a case to attend to. Corporal Thighbiter up at Dolly Sisters needed some help with that Money Trap Lane break-in...”

“Actually, he just sent word the other day – it turned out Mister Mason had got drunk and lost his key again and crashed through the oomph-” Constable Ping bent over slightly from several democratic elbows in the ribs. With a true officer’s tact, Carrot feigned temporary deafness. He held the door for Angua, who detached herself from the wall with one last pleasant smile that could’ve cut steel, and the two stepped out briskly into the safety of fresh air***.

After they had gone, the squad waited a few moments and then turned back to the center of the room, where someone had dragged a mysteriously stained stool from the canteen when the kitchen lady wasn’t looking. Corporal Nobbs was shuffled towards it with extreme care.

The little man**** dusted himself off and scrambled onto the rickety stool. As the other watchmen leaned in closer, he reached into the unspeakable depths of his inner pockets and, with a certain air of ceremony, produced…

“A sardine!”

“Cor, is that real?”

“Dat a very small fish.”

“Where did you get it, corp?”

Nobby basked in the approving murmurs of his colleagues. It had, indeed, been a challenge to find – sardines were very rare these days, outside of the occasional coveted freak shower – but he was nothing if not resourceful.

“We-ell, it weren’t easy, that’s true,” he rolled a dog-end from one corner of the mouth to the other, savoring the moment. He rarely commanded so much attention without attracting a variety of insults and the occasional ballistic eel. “Pays to know the right people, o’course. I have connections, me. Contacts. Ties, even.”

“Aye, but that floral one you nicked last week really don’t suit you very well.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Stronginthearm. All your accessories are made of chainmail! Everyone knows jewel tones are for winter, anyway.”

Colon raised a placating hand. “All right, all right, lads, no need to get all up in arms just ‘cos some folks are a little…stylistically challenged.”

“Thanks, sarge.”

“I meant you, Nobby.”

The corporal threw up his arms. “I go to all this trouble,” he wailed, “I talk to people, I find a contraband seafood shipment from Klatch, I explain matters to the fishmonger – on my day off, too, might I add – I procure a real, genuine, only-slightly-nibbled actual sardine, and this is the thanks I get?”

The watchmen watched, transfixed, as he flourished the fabled fish in their faces. It had, indeed, already been chewed on; the tail was sticking out rigidly and the whole thing smelled as if it was a few weeks beyond consumption, but it was a sardine nonetheless. Most of the lads, coming from humble (and sometimes humbling) backgrounds, felt slightly awed at the idea of Tossing a fish that these days was available only to the very richest observers of the fad. It was, they felt, unbecoming to wave it around like a paper flag at a parade. The damn things tended to be slippery. Probably would be bad luck, they figured, if it was flung down by accident; who knew what sort of fortune that would foretell?

“Where’s the appreciation, I ask you?” Nobby continued in woeful tones. “Every time I’ve Tossed a fish for you lot, it’s landed Right! Now, how many of you can say that, eh?”

The watchmen exchanged doubtful glances.

“Er… Well, you never let anyone else do it, corp,” Ping reasoned. “You just nicks the fish and eats it afterwards.”

“Oh, now, that does it! I won’t stand here and be slandered at!”

“Woah there, Nobby, watch that sardine-”

“If you’re gonna be like that, then I’m not doing it. And good luck finding someone who’ll do it as well as me!”

“Careful with that-”

“And I’m taking the sardine.”

“-not the tail-”

“You can beg, but I won’t change my mind, and that’s that!” Nobby flung out his hand in a grandiose gesture. Unfortunately, it was the wrong hand.

Time slowed to a crawl. Every head in the room swiveled as one, following the trajectory of the airborne fish. It sailed head first towards the front door, which was creaking, doorknob turning, and slowly, slowly opening…

* * *

The Offishal Tosser tossed the fish, which landed damply. There was a satisfying splat. The crowd held its breath as the first few rows near the podium craned to see.

“Today is the fourth of April in the year of the Significant Woodlouse, and it is a… Left Wednesday!” the man proclaimed.

A disappointed groan spread through the crowd. Slowly, people started dispersing with occasional complaints, casting sour looks at the offending fish. Here and there, members of the Gamblers’ Guild were exchanging coins.

Vimes shook his head again as the grumbling current carried him through the square, into the Plaza of Broken Moons, and out to the Patrician’s palace. At last he disengaged himself from the throng and elbowed his way towards the Brass Bridge. It wasn’t far to the watch house from here, but he still picked up the pace. Despite not having official working hours, Vimes liked to get there early in the morning, just as the day shift was coming in, to get a headstart on ignoring his paperwork.

As he walked, his copper mind took over and he mentally leafed through the agenda of the day. Let’s see, what was there… He had that audience with Vetinari at eleven, probably concerning last night’s diplomatic dinner – not that it was Vimes’s fault that he saw the unlicensed thief and that the Klatchian ambassador happened to be standing there, and anyway who drinks red wine while wearing a white robe… Then the interview with the Times at noon… Then briefing the lads on the unsolved contraband seafood case… Then he’d have to do something about the river division, they can’t just keep sinking the damn boat, this is getting ridiculous…

A distant glint caught Vimes’ eye as he stepped off the bridge. Carrot’s shiny breastplate could be seen from a mile away on a clear day, and the captain was, indeed, proceeding along the river with Angua in tow.

What the hell are they doing out? They’re not on patrol today…

Briefly, he considered catching up to them, but then dismissed the idea. They were only a couple streets away from the watch house, and Carrot seemed relaxed enough, stopping to chat with every other passer-by in his usual manner. No emergency, then. On the other hand, they had a batch of new recruits at the main office, the gods alone knew what those yahoos would be getting up to without a senior officer present. And under Colon’s command…

A few minutes later, Vimes was rounding the corner of Lower Broadway and trotting up the steps of Pseudopolis Yard. There seemed to be quite a commotion going on inside; he’d heard the shouting from half a block away. With his hand on the doorknob, mentally preparing his best Not Yelling Voice, he pushed the door open…

…and very briefly saw something shiny flying full speed at his head. Before he could react, the thing clanked off his helmet, bounced on a nearby desk and, finally, lodged itself between the floorboards with a sproinnnng.

Silence fell like a gavel. A dozen horrified watchmen gaped at their Commander, the life quickly draining out of their eyes*****. Sergeant Colon’s face, pale as the moon and just as round, tried unsuccessfully to hide behind his high collar.

Wordlessly, Vimes approached the thing stuck between the floorboards. He crouched down. He examined it. He gave it a tentative flick. It made a noise not unlike a ruler twanging off the side of a table, or a very thin sheet of metal being shaken vigorously. After a moment’s contemplation, he felt moved to speak.

“Well, lads, I don’t think Left and Right suffices anymore. Seems we ought to add a third Day to the list.”

Ahhh. Relief rose off the squad like morning mist. Their laughter had the strained quality that came with trying very hard to pretend that whatever was happening was entirely intentional. At this point, they’d have laughed at anything, as long as it meant Ol’ Stoneface was Not Yelling At Them. Whatever they may think to themselves, the one motivation that all coppers in all the worlds have in common is to Not Get Yelled At.

“Bottom Day, sir?” someone suggested. There was another bout of slightly forceful sniggers.

“Er… Perhaps not.” Vimes gave the fish a few fruitless tugs and gave up. “Alright, someone get this damn thing out of there and, uh…”

“Throw it away, sir?”

“No, good gods, you could hurt someone… Look, just get rid of the…fish and we’ll say no more about it. Fred, a word upstairs?”

With the watch house returning slowly to its normal daily bustle, Vimes went up to his office and sat down wearily at his desk, which was hidden underneath an impressive pile of paper. He’d signed a few dozen forms and…dealt with half a fireplace’s worth of complaint letters last night, but the stacks looked suspiciously bigger this morning. They entirely refused to melt away under his glare.

“Alright, what is this bloody nonsense? I thought I’d made it clear I don’t want any Tossing in the watch house,” he said to Colon, once the man had huffed and puffed his way up the stairs.

“Well, Mister Vimes, I just thought I’d indulge the lads this once. Raise their spirits with some good ol’ cultural team building. For tradition’s sake and all.”

“Tradition? It’s not been two months, Fred!”

“We-ell, they’ve taken to it, sir. Besides, you can’t deny we’ve had crimes happen on every single Left Day since the Offishal Tossings started.”

“Good grief, you could say that about every bloody day since the founding of the city! I thought you weren’t a superstitious man, Fred.”

“No, sir, but the fish don’t lie,” said Colon fervently.

“Ugh. Next thing you know, the bloody Times will be printing it alongside the bloody date in their bloody papers.”

There was a guilty silence.

Vimes stared at the sergeant’s carefully blank face. A single droplet of sweat was slowly making its way down the man’s forehead. The beady little eyes flickered momentarily to a relatively unoccupied corner of the desk.

With a sinking dread, Vimes followed his gaze and beheld a newspaper lying there on top of the forlorn paperwork, all neatly rolled and still crisp from the press. Belatedly, he noticed the smell of fresh ink. At the top of the front page, a small print line proclaimed today’s date to be April 4th, Left Wednesday.

Five minutes later, sergeant Colon walked down the stairs and into a perfectly silent room full of watchmen. His face had the distant look of someone who had just seen a ghost, and was fairly sure everybody else had, too, but would be damned if he’d mention it first.

With nothing else to do, he cleared his throat. This seemed to break the spell; all at once, the room regained its normal level of noise as the coppers went back to their coppery activities. Only Nobby sidled closer and offered up a slightly bent cigar.

“What’s up with ol’ Stoneface today, sarge?”

“Dunno what’s gotten into him.” Colon took the cigar gratefully and lit it, trying not to think too hard about where it came from. “It’s this job, I expect. All this responsibility is wearing on his nerves.”

“Ah, right.”

“I mean, what’s so wrong with a little tradition once in a while, eh?”

“Beats me, sarge.”

“Doesn’t hurt no one, having some mores and values ‘round the place.”

“You never said a truer thing.”

“Ah, anyway, Mister Vimes is just overworked. Not his fault he’s got a bit of a cultural blind spot when he’s cranky,” Colon concluded magnanimously. “Maybe he could do with a coffee and a nice meal. I know I could… Say, Nobby, what’ve we got for breakfast in the cantine today?”

“Fish’n’chips, I think. Er… You alright there, sarge? …Sarge?”

* An unfortunate misunderstanding at the fishmonger’s that had led to the Offishal Tosser being handed a very live fish, foreboding a day of extreme mood swings for the populace.

** This is the social cue equivalent of climbing onto the roof at three in the morning and setting off a barrage of fireworks while waving an enormous fluorescent red flag. Not even a 6’6’’ dwarf could remain oblivious.

*** Only comparatively. This was Ankh-Morpork, after all.

**** Allegedly.

***** Except for Corporal Shoe, for whom it was a little late******.

****** heh.

#discworld #sam vimes #ankh morpork #gnu terry pratchett #i thoroughly enjoyed writing this tbh #apologies for the unfortunate footnote format i couldnt figure out how to do superscript

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kaidanworkshop · 2 months ago

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Workshop Update - KRCE 1.1 Release & Anniversary Event Info!

It's your friendly neighborhood Community Team swinging in with some announcements and our KRCE 1.1 update!

First off, we’ll be hosting a public Workshop event celebrating our two year anniversary on Thursday, February 27th, at 3PM CST/4PM EST/9PM GMT via our Discord Stage. You can subscribe to the event here. We’ll be reviewing our End of Year budget report, as well as presenting our new budget proposal for the next leg of our planned content. We’ll also talk about the results of the last Community poll, reveal some new additions to our first planned update, and read a few of our newest scripts in development to hear your feedback. With that out of the way, here are the notes for the KRCE 1.1 update!

KRCE 1.1 Changelog – SAFE TO UPDATE MIDSAVE

Added matching modular armor boots to Kaidan's default post-rescue clothes

Swapped the one meat and two fish barrels in Autumnwatch that respawned with no respawn versions; all other containers appear to be set as no respawn

Set Autumnwatch cell as NoResetZone

Added a new global variable, KW_FollowDistance that is default set at 0 for medium. It is toggled to 1 for closer and 2 for further away via dialogue commands in the "Do you have a moment?" Options menu

Added two extra follow packages with different near and far options to Kaidan's KW_K02 alias in support of the follow distance toggle

After selecting pronouns, the menu now goes up a level to Options instead of staying in pronouns, consistent with the other Options submenus

Added condition to initial dismiss line (about returning to Falkreath) to check if Autumnwatch has been purchased

Added map marker to the Abandoned Prison (Kaidan) for the first objective of A Bounty for the Hunter

Moved nickname line "You've got a big roar, Little Dragon..." to a main quest idle when the player uses Clear Skies on the way up the Throat of the World

Added new option to the nickname menu that lets players ask Kaidan to stop calling them by a specific nickname, rather than requiring a total reset and reselection of the nicknames you do want: "Please stop calling me..." > (list of nicknames that are currently selected)

Fixed spelling "Nevermind." > "Never mind."

Added the line "It may take some time to fully translate it." to the journal entry for stage 25 of All of This Past (the early dossier route, if the player found the dossier before fully translating the sword)

Added missing script fragment to advance the quest All of This Past to stage 30, for those who found the dossier early/before translating his sword

#kaidan 2 #kaidanworkshop #custom voice follower skyrim #kaidan skyrim #elder scrolls skyrim #custom voiced follower

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wickedsmille · 4 months ago

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batman, robin, sentient super suits, oh my! part 3

Ta~ da~! Part 3 and done. (Here's Part 1 and Part 2, if ya want.) It didn't go exactly as I wanted but when I went back to rewrite part of it I couldn't make myself do it so. Welp, it is what it is. But, here we go -

---------

A little while later, Tim yelps from his side of the bed. Jason’s head whips around to see what the commotion is, bumping shoulders with Tim who has also hastily sat up.

Craning his neck, Jason looks down over the side of the bed to where Tim is staring, dumbfounded. All he sees is Tim’s bag, open with the Red Robin costume on top. Sort of strange since leaving their gear out in the open isn’t exactly Bat-protocol. No telling when a nosy or distracted maid might barge in. Otherwise, nothing is amiss. Color Jason confused.

“What the fuck,” Tim breathes as he scoots further back till he’s half in Jason’s lap which, awesome, but weird.

“What?” Jason snaps.

Over the side of the bed, the sleeve of the Red Robin suit snakes up and slaps down hard on Tim’s wrist near the edge of the bed. He makes a high noise of surprise then he’s fully in Jason’s lap. Still awesome, very much so, but bigger fish to fry and everything. Such as the irrefutable proof that Red Robin has gained the nebulous honor of having a mind of its own. And it’s apparently not very happy with Tim if the way it snaps out to hit him again is any indication. This time, Tim pulls his hand back before he can get slapped.

“How-” Tim chokes out, whipping his head around to stare at Jason.

Their faces are so damned close Jason can feel the too fast puffs of Tim’s breath against his cheek. It’s doing him absolutely no favors in staying focused on the issue at hand.

Tim’s eyes narrow. “Did you do something to it?”

“Me? That thing was totally normal until you got a hold of it. What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Un-fucking-likely!”

A pitter patter of sound draws both of them away from the edge of their budding argument. Back at the side of the bed, the Red Robin suit is padding its sleeves against the blanket to draw their attention. Guess it didn’t like where their conversation was headed.

“Oh yeah, that thing is totally alive,” Jason says.

“No” Tim drawls sarcastically. He frowns at the suit. A flash of understanding brightens his face as his mouth drops open. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

“Mind cluing in us pea brained peons?”

Without looking, Tim hits Jason in the chest with the back of his hand. “All the malfunctions!”

Tim doesn’t need to say anything else for Jason to pick up what he’s laying down. The events of the past few weeks make a lot more sense now. Including their current predicament which has led to a lap full of dressed down, sleep warm Tim. Touche, Red Robin, well done. He has to hand it to the suit. Red Hood is all overt action with very little subtly but Red Robin had completely flown under his radar. Even yelling at it earlier was based more on a vague hunch.

“I’m glad I hollered at it earlier then.”

Tim’s eyes snap back to him, incredulous and amused. “You were talking to an inanimate object?”

“First of all, it isn’t inanimate any more. Second, don’t act like you’ve never talked at something before.”

Tellingly, Tim stays silent.

“Look at it this way, you’ve been chosen,” Jason says with a shrug. “Better than, I guess, since you brought the fuckin’ thing to life.”

Tim does this odd thing where he goes boneless. As in he falls limp against Jason’s chest with his head resting on Jason’s shoulder. For a second, he’s worried something is wrong. Tim wouldn’t be Tim if he weren’t wound tighter than a spring. He’s the most neurotic sonuvabitch Jason knows. To have him so soft and pliant? It’s kind of throwing him for a loop.

Looking down at Tim’s face, Jason’s worries bleed away. The content, gentle happiness he finds there, only a thin thread of bitter sadness belying it, tells Jason all he needs to know. Once more, because he’s just that good, Jason has stuck his foot in his mouth. Except in a good way this time.

Thinking back, Tim told him what it was like when he was first Robin. It sure as hell hadn’t felt good when Robin didn’t want anything to do with him. He can’t imagine what it was like for Tim to have to actively fight against the suit. To push and push and push till he was finally, reluctantly accepted. Only to be dropped and have nothing waiting for him, ready for him. The lonely ache of wondering if he’s good enough and that’s why a suit doesn’t come for him. Needing to push past all that, piled on top of the long hours and endless horrors the nightlife brings, and keep on keepin’ on.

But Jason has pointed out the obvious which he doesn’t doubt Tim completely overlooked. In agreement, Red Robin raises its sleeve and points at Jason.

“Oh,” Tim breathes. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Me neither. Way to make history.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “But I don’t get it. Why do all of this?”

Once more, Red Robin pointedly gestures towards Jason. He glares at the damn thing because if anyone needs to shut up, it’s Red Robin. Given the genuine curiosity and bafflement in Tim’s voice, Jason’s pretty sure he’s not being purposefully obtuse. Granted, Tim can lie with the best of them, the little scamp. Jason has been meaning to get a few lessons. His gut is telling him this isn’t one of those times. Tim really doesn’t get it and Jason would like it to stay that way until he can either nut up and confess or brutally murder the impulse to fuck him raw at the first opportunity.

“No idea,” Jason replies lightly.

On his side of the bed, Jason’s bag wiggles violently. He groans and clenches his jaw, unwilling to let Red Hood enter the chat. This is a recipe for disaster. Adding in his suit won’t help him in keeping his inconvenient crush under wraps. For all he knows, Red Robin and Red Hood have been colluding together to make this shit happen.

“What,” Tim starts before trailing off.

The stare he pins Jason down with is so intense and invasive Jason feels like he needs to shove Tim off and disappear for a few months. It’s something akin to being flayed alive. His eyes skitter across Jason’s face, breaking him down bit by bit without needing to say a word or lift a finger. Really, Jason should get Tim away from him before he peels away the last layers keeping Jason from being truly perceived.

Lightning quick and catching Jason unaware, Tim lunges across him to drape himself over Jason’s side of the bed. With deft fingers, he yanks open Jason’s bag. There the Red Hood is in all its glory, helmet on top of a bundle of heavy padding and armor. The lights on the eyes flash and Tim blinks down at it.

“Hey, now!” Jason chides, dipping down so he can shut the bag before the shit show starts.

He doesn’t get that far before he’s getting full-on backhanded by the sleeve of his own suit. Wow, the suits are being aggressive. He’s not even sure what to do so he tenses up and stares at the wall. There’s enough semtex in the bag to blow it all to hell, right? He could totally ask Alfred to call up Lucius for a new suit. If Tim can finagle a consciousness into a regular suit, Jason should be able to as well. Maybe the next one won’t be such an asshole. Though he doubts it. On all counts.

He doesn’t remember if actually brought any plastique. Lucius isn’t exactly itching to do Jason any favors and Alfred would be more likely to politely mock him for doing something as stupid as blowing up his own suit. There’s no way for them to know how Red Robin is Red Robin now. And he’s, admittedly, a major asshole so it only makes sense whatever suit gets stuck with him has a personality to match.

Tim bops the helmet and scowls at it. “Rude.” Red Hood doesn’t hit Tim. Instead, it pats him on the cheek gently. “Much better,” Tim says, satisfied.

Jason gapes at the interaction. “That is so unfair. What the fuck!”

“I told you things went well when I covered for you.”

“Apparently. Maybe a little too well.”

“I wouldn’t say that. It seemed like the Red Hood lik-”

Flipping over so his ass is seated in the well of Jason’s legs, back arched over his thigh, Tim looks at Jason. Jason doesn’t like the way Tim is looking at him. It’s less wondering and more knowing. So he does what he does best and tries to push Tim off him. They’ve been too close to too long and the need to run is an overwhelming compulsion at this point. Like a goddamn lamprey, Tim winds his arms around Jason’s waist and holds fast. The guy doesn’t go anywhere despite Jason’s best efforts since he isn’t in a position to get the leverage he needs to pry Tim off.

“You like me,” Tim says simply.

Jason chokes as the bottom of his stomach falls out. “No, I don’t,” Jason denies.

His helmet makes a high pitched whine of protest like the voice modulator got hit with a current and fried the circuitry. Goddamn, he thinks he even hears a click from one of his guns. Red Hood is a straight up thug. Which Jason loves but, holy hell, right now he definitely doesn’t. Being bullied by what amounts to a souped up, military grade Call of Duty cosplay hits him right in his pride. Forget Bruce and the clusterfuck of that whole thing, this is his new villain origin story.

Red Robin isn’t so charmed by his denial either. The suit flops onto the bed, farther up this time, so it can nail him right in the shin. Jason makes a pained noise more from being startled than it actually hurting. If the blanket weren’t draped over his legs, then, yeah, that would’ve stung. Great, now, he’s being bullied by the equivalent of a theater major seamstress’ fever dream too. When will the injustices end?

Throwing his hands up, literally because he’s so far past settling for metaphorically doing it, Jason looks to the ceiling and prays for patience. And to not get socked in the jaw by Tim for what he’s about to say. Still, to the pock-marked ceiling, Jason says, “Fine, yes, I like you! Jesus, fuck, everybody lay offa me! This is the worst kind of peer pressure. At least I could cunt punt a peer but no. I get some goddamn JoAnn Fabric cast offs harassing me.”

“And me,” Tim pipes up.

“And you! Which, can’t we focus on the miracle of your suit showing signs of intelligent, manipulative and kind-of-dickish life? Let’s go back to you getting misty eyed over a newly minted supernatural costume.”

“We’ll come back to that,” Tim agrees, “but first we should probably deal with this. Just, Jason...”

Well, shit, he doesn’t like Tim’s tone. It’s not the voice of a man about to lay his heart bare in preparation for an emotionally charged conversation destined to end in a heated kiss and a roll in the sack before the camera cuts to black. Nor is it shy and demure or happy and accepting. Jason doesn’t want to put a name to it but, if he had to, he’d say Tim sounds distinctly awkward and uncomfortable. Hesitant and pained. This does not bode well for his chances. He can already smell the acrid, sharp scent of his chances going up in flames.

“There’s a lot between us,” Tim says somewhere around the bottom of Jason’s ribcage. “That we’ve never talked about.” Now Tim pulls away fully until he’s back on his side of the bed.

Jason knows a let down when he hears one. He opens his mouth to tell Tim to can it, spare them both the continued embarrassment. On some level, Jason always knew anything between them would be doomed. Forget burning the bridge between himself and Tim, Jason incinerated it. With prejudice. The fact they’ve come so far already is a miracle. It’s the little, emaciated street kid in him that makes him greedy, to take and take and take until he can’t anymore. Well, this is the can’t anymore, he guesses. But now he’ll lose it all.

The words are there on the tip of his tongue when his helmet makes another whirring, whining noise of protest on one side of the bed and there’s the pat, pat, pat of fabric against fabric on the other. His head whips between the Red Hood, disgruntled and displeased, and Red Robin attacking Tim’s leg much as it had Jason. Tim quickly scoots back towards Jason and pulls his legs in. In response, Red Robin flops onto the bed again and nails Tim right across the face.

Jason has never claimed to be a good person so he laughs. “Okay, I’m starting to feel fuckin’ hunted here. I get why they’re coming at me but-”

He breaks off since there’s no point in finishing the sentence. Tim is a genius. Point blank, period. It’s a verifiable fact Jason hates and likes in equal measure. If his big brain can’t piece together a puzzle, Jason doesn’t stand a chance but by no means is he a slouch. For this, understanding why Red Robin and Red Hood are coming at Tim just as hard as they are at him, Jason doesn’t need a three digit IQ.

“You little shit, you like me too,” Jason accuses, honestly mad Tim was about to dismiss him out of hand.

Tim doesn’t say anything which is answer enough for Jason. Not for Red Robin who whips out at Tim again, making him curl up tighter and away from the offending garment. Or offended garment, in this case.

“I’m bad at this,” Tim hisses to his suit. “God, why are you so-”

“Oddly violent?”

“Persistent,” Tim insists, glaring at Jason.

Jason fixes him with a look.

“And a manipulative asshole,” Jason supplies but he isn’t talking about Tim’s suit anymore.

“I’m bad at this,” Tim says again, this time directly to Jason.

“Tim.”

“Jason.”

Red Robin and Red Hood voice their displeasure as much as they can.

Rolling his eyes, Jason talks at the ceiling again because it’s easier. “Why wouldn’t you just say that? Okay, you’re bad at it, fine. I literally paved the way for you to just say ‘Golly gee, me too’.”

“I’m awkward, okay?” Tim blurts, irritated and not bothering to pull on his usual carefully crafted mask of indifference. “I’m not exactly the greatest when it comes to interpersonal relationships. You can just ask Steph.” After a brief pause, Tim backpedals, “Actually, don’t. Never do that.”

“Well now I have to.”

“You really, really don’t.”

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a coward-”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Jason says maturely.

Jason should’ve known the kiss was coming as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Not once has Jason seen Tim back down from a challenge once it has been set down in front of him. Including the time Jason gave him a spectacular beat down in Titans Tower and demanded to know if Tim thought he was good enough for Robin. Half unconscious and bloodied, Tim had said yes.

This isn’t so different, Jason thinks, because he kisses back, brutal and vicious and commanding, while Tim takes it all then dishes it back. More than once, Jason’s teeth clack against Tim’s but neither of them pull away. Somewhere between now and Jason’s head emptying of rational thought, his hand has found its way to the back of Tim’s neck, keeping him in place. He doesn’t have to worry about Tim pulling away, not really, with the way Tim holds onto Jason’s waist.

The world drops away till there’s nothing but the soft, barely there moans Tim breathes into him. He swallows them greedily, vows to get more of them till he’s had his fill. His other hand, the one not latched onto Tim, finds Tim’s thigh and kneads at the muscle there. One of Tim’s hands slides down and skirts along the edge of his shirt till it teasingly slips under the fabric. The rough, calloused pads of Tim’s fingers ghost over his stomach, making the muscles twitch.

It all comes back into focus, hitting him like a freight train, when the hand on Tim’s leg can’t wander any farther up than it already has even though he knows he’s nowhere near his ultimate end goal. Cracking open his eyes, Jason looks down to see Red Robin forming a blockade to preserve Tim’s chastity. Red Robin doesn’t get to mastermind them into a bed together then dictate what they do when Tim’s making those encouraging, willing little noises.

Leaning back to catch his breath, Jason reluctantly lets go of Tim’s leg and scruffs the Red Robin suit then tosses it over the side of the bed with a growl.

“That was uncalled for,” Tim tells him.

“You want me to stop?” Jason asks.

“No. Very much no.”

“Then it was called for,” Jason asserts.

“Fair enough,” Tim laughs. He huffs as his eyes dart from one side of the bed to the other. “It’d be weird to do anything with the suits here though.”

“They literally fondle us on a nightly basis. I think their definition of propriety is a little different from ours,” Jason points out.

Looking thoughtful, Tim says, “Huh, I knew the Red Hood suit was chafing weird when I wore it.”

Leaning over, Jason slaps his helmet and shoves his bag under the bed. “Goddamn dirty dog, keep your kevlar weave off.”

The Red Hood doesn’t make a peep or put up any protest. Jason doubts it’s because the suit wore itself out being more active than usual. Stupid thing probably doesn’t have a good counter argument, having been caught out and ruthlessly thrown under the bus by Tim.

“In its defense, it really made things easy and protected me well. It was, sweet, too, I guess?” Tim offers.

“Well, good,” Jason replies lamely. “Can’t say the same about Red Robin,” he adds with a glare at Tim’s side of the bed where Red Robin is hopefully puddled on the ground and content to stay there.

Meddlers, the both of them. Grade A meddlers of the highest order.

“Yeah,” Tim says contemplatively.

To poke the bruise one more time, Jason tells him, “Yanno, the suit’s probably something special because you’re something special.”

The sappy ass words make Jason feel like the world’s biggest tool but it’s worth it for the instant flush. His cheeks and ears and neck all go a delicious pink that Jason wants to bite at. Take the light dusting and make it vibrant. Create a portrait of deep reds and purples wherever he can. Jason thinks he’ll get the chance to do that sooner than expected when Tim tackles him. After a brief scuffle, Jason rolls them so Tim’s under him with his wrists pinned and legs draped on either side of Jason’s hips. Tim could get out of the hold. Jason isn’t trying to really keep him down.

But Tim doesn’t.

He allows it which is enough for Jason to settle his weight over Tim and forget about the busy body suits probably basking in smug satisfaction for getting them to this point.

#tim drake #jason todd #dc comics #jaytim #dc #red hood #red robin #timjay #wicked writes #this is for you bonbon ;3 #I was in a mood this morning while writing and I think that unfortunately carried over

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quinloki · 3 months ago

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Quin's Terrible Two's

Here we are at the back half of the Tumblrversary event \o/ The polls are closed, but drabbles will be going up the rest of the month =3

The votes have been counted, the results have been assessed! Now it's time for What Happens Because of All of That <3

So without further ado -- /hands the results of the poll off to you, the reader, this time./

Just Keep Swimming

CW: front and back oral, sexy times in the Ocean \o/, Shachi gets to be intimidating, overstimulation, mdni

The only thing keeping you above the waves was the bright orange flotation device you were clinging onto.

Well, that was only partly true, the two men beneath the waves wouldn’t leave you to drown either, but right now they were the reason that you were clinging to the safety device so desperately. Once the poll had completed you had pretended to lord over them and demand they worship you like the goddess you were.

And they did.

They massaged your feet and shoulders, kissed your skin and lips so sweetly, stripped you so slowly, and had you relaxing and melting in their grasp. But you forgot that Shachi and Penguin were both predators.

Both hunters.

Circling you as you relaxed between them, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Shachi put the flotation board in your hands before Penguin leapt off the side of the sub with you in his arms. You yelped from the swiftness of the action, but you trusted them, and were only a little annoyed your sweet massage and sweet teasing had turned into a dunk in the ocean.

Until the two of them disappeared beneath the waves.

At first they teased you, caressing your limbs with their hands, and popping up randomly around you to steal kisses and lick your shoulders.

Someone’s tongue was currently buried in your cunt, and someone else’s tongue was in your ass. You’d always thought they were part fishman, somewhere along the line. The way they held their breath for upwards of an hour, the way they swam so effortlessly alongside the sub, the way their teeth had a little more point to them than human teeth.

Not enough to have gills, or webbed hands, but enough to have an edge.

Strong hands held your legs until the boys had settled in, lips sealed against your skin, tongues doing as they please. There was no escape, and no place to hide. No one was going to see below the waves easily, but your panting sighs were carrying along the still, open ocean.

“Fuck,” you husk, face laying against the board as your breathing began to hitch. Shachi and Penguin’s hold on your hips gave you no hope for escape. Once they were locked into place there was no movement you could make that would save you.

Your back arches as your body jerks from a rush of pleasure and you lose your grip on the board. A hand between your breasts leans you back as your arm is twisted and tucked against your back. Each sparing a hand to still hold your hips as they raise you above the waves until only your waist is beneath the ocean line.

Your free hand goes over your mouth as you try to stifle the lewd sounds they’re causing. Heavy panting hisses escape from between your fingers as your eyes begin to lose focus as the pleasure builds. Your hips are briefly free as a hand comes out of the water and yanks your free hand away from your mouth, locking it against the other pinned to your back swiftly.

His hand back in place on your hips all you can do is moan and gasp into the open air as Shachi and Penguin force you to cum. Your legs go taut, curling and shivering uselessly in the water as the two continue to assail you with their mouths through the orgasm.

“Wait, wait, stop, gods — Fuck! Fuck, you two, fuuuuuu-!” Your body tenses again, breath catching in your lungs as overstimulation barely gives you a few sweet seconds between one orgasm and the other. Your view is forced sky ward as your body bucks against the rush of pleasure.

“-Gleg-glow!” You gasp the words, tears streaming down your face as the unending onslaught of pleasure slowly comes to a stop. “Yellow!” You cry again, finally able to control your tongue.

Sinking into the water, two faces come up about the water line to meet you, keeping your shoulders just above the water. Leaning into Penguin’s chest, catching your breath as he nuzzles against the back of your neck, Shachi kisses up your torso, leaving sweet splotches of warmth trailing up your neck until he presses his lips against yours.

“There’s plenty left of you to eat, little shoal.” Shachi hums. His eyes are hooded, the beautiful irises shaded against the sun. He looks relaxed, but he’s focused and on edge, taking in every detail on offer.

“I think we ate a little too fast,” Penguin murmurs, voice sinking into the back of your neck as he licks your shoulder. “We should know better than to rush a delicious bait ball like that.”

“Ah, but she wanted us to worship her,” Shachi grins at you, pointed teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Deep breath little goddess,” he drags his teeth against your skin and you feel him and Penguin lining their throbbing cocks up with your pussy and ass.

“Accept our prayers, little shoal.”

#2 year anniversary #quin muses #tumblrversary #2 year tumblrversary #reader insert #x reader #quin's terrible two's #mdni #shachi one piece #penguin one piece

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starryriize · 1 year ago

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heyy if you can would you write more leehan 18+ thoughts? i loved the first one

more 18+ thoughts | leehan

╰┈ ⋆｡˚ 🪼 hehehe you know my weaknesses nonnie! leehan… my man my man!! im glad you liked my first one 🫶🏼 i wasn’t sure how to end this one not proofread!

minors dni!

thinking about…best friend fratboy! leehan but he’s just a cutie who joined the frat for the networking opportunities. he only goes to events that he knows you’ll be attending too! one time, there was a talk for extra credit about some boring new marketing strategy and you sat in the back. and he takes the open seat next to you, his hands lightly grazing your thighs! things best friends don’t do- that’s what your actions are filed under. best friends don’t stare intensely at each other from across the room. you definitely don’t wear skimpy outfits knowing that leehan drools over them. the way he holds your waist, places his hand on your thighs when you sit…again, things normal friends don’t do.

so here you were, sitting in the back of the auditorium, watching another talk that happened to be required for your honors program. and of course, next to you was leehan. you would call him your “friend with benefits but included dates” but you couldn’t focus on anything the speaker was saying due to his hand slowly moving up the expanse of your thighs. his fingers making their way under the silky fabric of your skirt. oh he knew, he knew that you wore that skirt for him.

your professors would never guess what their star student was like behind closed doors...except you weren't behind closed doors. despite your mind telling you everything about the current situation was wrong, you felt your mind becoming hazy. his fingers were further up your legs, grazing the edge of your panties. if anyone walked in the auditorium doors in the side entrance, it wouldn’t take long for them to see what was going on.

leehan pulled the your panties to the side, rubbing your folds softly. your eyelids were fluttering and lips parting, struggling to keep your composure in your seat. he knew his effect on you, reveling in how the star student was so pliant just for him. goes so far as to tease you in your ear whispering how much of a little slut you are and how you’re his good girl. at this point, you’re gone. the way he looks forward, pretending to focus on the speaker, while innocently plunging two fingers into your now dripping heat. you knew the seat was probably wet, giving you two options: either leave early or leave early.

“oh. would you look at that? you’re soaking my fingers.” he whispers against your ear as if he’s commenting on the speaker’s topic. you clench on his fingers, knowing that he’s the cause. the way he curled his fingers up, hitting the spot that made you see stars and want to moan out loud. putting a hand over your mouth, you bite your lip, trying desperately to hold your whines in.

“hannie…can we go?” you ask him as quietly as you can without letting out a breathless moan, hoping that he'd want to leave early too. “sure,” his eyes were full of desperation and want, pupils blown wide. his fingers were sticky as he pulled them out, putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. watching him made your knees weak and you wanted more than just his hands.

when you guys leave, you both make a beeline for his dorm. as soon as you are in his room, your hands are all over each other in desperate need. he was tugging at your skirt, opting to simply hike it up as he pressed you against his desk. pulling you in for a heated kiss, he lets out a soft moan as you bite his lip, your free hand tangled in his hair. “mhm.. keep doing that, princess.” if your mind was foggy before, now, you couldn’t think about anything but the warmth of leehan’s lips on yours. you definitely weren’t focused when he bent you over the desk, sliding your soaked panties down your legs. leehan’s mind was dizzy, getting drunk and needy at the sight of you open and wet just for him. your whines were like a beautiful harmony that he could listen to for hours. you were blissfully fucked out by the time he slid his dick into your dripping, clenching hole. he bottomed out, giving you a few minutes to adjust before thrusting at a steady pace, hitting your cervix causing your hands to grip the table. “oh, fuck, that’s it-“ the moans you let out were shameless and that’s when you remembered that you were in his frat house. “ah-han, wh what about the others?” you whine, knowing that they probably knew what was going on in his room. “what about them?” he arrogantly replies, slowing his pace down to make sharp thrusts into the spot that had you screaming and breathless for more. “be as loud as you can dear, i want them all to know how good i’m fucking you.”

well, the night was only just beginning.

#laur’s thoughts 🧚🏼‍♀️#bnd imagines #bnd smut #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #leehan smut #leehan x reader #leehan imagines

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valalice · 5 months ago

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WORKS IN PROGRESS.

REQUESTS & FUTURE FICS. this is a queue of some of (not all) my current wip, including request and original ideas; strictly for full fics and headcanons — drabbles will also be sprinkled in between these uploads. in no way does the order of this reflect when they're going to be published.

SNOWED IN ⟡ OLDER GF!CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

when an unexpected snow storm hits the city overnight, preventing your girlfriend from going into office for work. you're more than happy to keep her snuggled in bed, and luckily enough the storm outside leads to other endeavors. | fluff & smut

YOU MAKE ME WANNA ⟡ GIRLFRIEND!ELLIE WILLIAMS

request ༝ in which a girl with brown hair, green eyes, freckled cheeks, and a cute smile happens to be all yours. | fluff

XO TATTED ALL OVER HER BODY ⟡ ROOMMATE HOCKEY JOCK!VI

a new year, a new roommate. except this year you drew the short end of the stick (pun not intended) by getting the hockey team's captain as you roommate. | suggestive

SCOTTY DOESN'T KNOW ⟡ ABBY ANDERSON

countless hidden touches, stolen glances, and little written slips are exchanged between you and abby, all while you feed your girlfriend lies about your true whereabouts. it isn't your fault when you were pushed to extremes to seek out someone who could pleasure you better than the person you say you love. but, at this point it's her fault if she remains oblivious to the truth. | smut & angst

BLINDS WIDE OPEN PT. 2 ⟡ STALKER!CAITVI

you're stalkers are making their presence known after their little stunt, their efforts to win you over becoming bolder by the day. seeking help in the authorities only unknowingly pushes you further into their arms. | dark content & smut

CHERRY COLA & MOTOR OIL ⟡ MECHANIC!SEVIKA

car terminology is not one of your strong suites, it goes in one ear and out the other. so, when your car starts having unexpected car troubles you take it to the nearest shop, pleasantly surprised when a buff, oiled up woman takes care of all you troubles. with your car all fixed up, weeks past and the woman is still fresh on your mind, but you're left without a means to see her. . . so you create them. | smut

HANDLE ME ⟡ OLDER GF!CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

request ༝ the mystery sickness that's been going around has finally managed to latch itself onto you, trying your hardest to persevere through it, and failing. you're just thankful your girlfriend is there to nurse you back to health. | fluff & slight angst

BURIED FOR A NIGHT LIKE THIS ⟡ PIANIST!CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

when world renowned pianist, caitlyn kiramman, disappears from the public eye after the death of her mother and makes a return five years later with exclusive tour dates to perform never before heard pieces; you get tickets. from the magical night, one event leads to another and you're able to work out a once in a lifetime interview with the secluded pianist. a story of grief, healing, and love (in more way than one) unfolds throughout the process. | fluff

LAY ME DOWN ⟡ GIRLFRIEND!SEVIKA

request ༝ to most people your girlfriend is scary, intimidating, brash, that just happens when you're not her favorite person. | fluff & smut

YOU'LL BE ON MY MIND FOREVER ⟡ BARISTA!ELLIE WILLIAMS

hushed murmurs, the scent of coffee beans encapsulating the place, and soft music over the speakers perfectly describes the local cafe ellie's been working at for years. the barista takes pride in knowing all her regulars and their usual orders, but when a new face enters the shop and throws off the routine of her job by ordering a new drink; whether it's hot, iced, coffee, tea, or neither, she's naturally driven to crack you, creating a challenge for herself to figure out the special drink that'll become your usual. | fluff

#𓊆 𝓐 writes. 𓊇

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anonymousauthorsblog · 10 months ago

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Turning Passions

chapter 3 • smile for the camera!!

lowercase intended

*there is writing sections in this chapter!”

symphonia IX - current joys

•.•.•.••.•.••.•.•.•.••.•.••.•.•.•.••.•.•.••.•.•.••.•.•.•

y/n pov..

y/n glances over her phone one more time to see the tweet toge reposted while maki is spamming her phone asking when’s she’s coming home and if she can relieve her from the torture that toge is forcing her to do. as maki would be entering the stream with him that night. she shuts off her phone before shoving it in her dance bag. y/n gets up and enters the dance room where her class is supposed to be. it’s always been routine for y/n to show up 20 minutes earlier before class to get extra practice in to make sure her ballet is on peak, before presenting herself to any dance teacher. this has been a routine for her since she was a young teen in determination to stay on top of her class and to push herself to become more flexible, more precise and overall perfect. But as she walks in she sees students already doing the same thing, many students at the barre, others practicing turns and overall dancers becoming better than her. she quickly finds her a spot at the barre a little more further from everyone with her head facing down so others don’t see the panic rising up. y/n realizes that this dance class isn’t normal from the ones she used to call home, she trembles as she lifts up into a relevè her feet getting shot with the same pain as usual- she sits in that position until it wears off. y/n suddenly understands the situation- in this class everyone is fighting to be the best, she continues the stretches until the teacher walks in, everyone then runs into a line waiting for instruction. y/n quickly follows behind standing in first position waiting to hear from the dance instructor. “welcome to NYSSU academy, you made it in first into the school and now into the dance program. i would say congratulations but the hard part starts now” boomed the small older mature lady walking pass the dancers, judging as they stand tall in perfection. the teacher continues welcoming in a younger looking coach around her twenties “this is my co teacher” don’t be mistaken she isn’t here to play around. the lady continues in a large demanding tone. “your practices are always a test, always be on your best performance- nothing will go unnoticed. But if you’re wondering what your actually graded on in this class is performances. we have big 3 events and one mini in the middle of the year, be prepared because each day is a drill to see if you can make it onto the stage”. hearing those words send chills across y/ns skin as she keeps her head forward, but her eyes are drawn to the teachers movement. y/n isn’t usually afraid of any teachers tone, words or actions- living and growing in the world of dance she’s already used to these types of teachers, even harsher. Instead she takes these as a challenge because how can you succeed without a little push? The teacher words continue- “our first performance this fall, we will be doing the swan lake, make today our first rehearsal. more information on parts and lead rolls will be announced later, but for now let’s start our class, as this is the closest thing you’ll get to a professional taste in the real cold world. I expected you guys already to be stretched and ready?” she asked, many replied with a small yes while others nodded their heads. “perfect she replied okay everyone on the barre.” Practice continues on with additional leaps, pointe work then finally turns- something that y/n excelled in. the teacher groups each student in a group of four before calling each group to do a sequence of turns the last step holding into multiple pirouettes as they can. y/n is confident and collected as the first group goes on- then finally her group is called. she enters the stage, then the teacher calls the counts “alright, 1, 2 3…” y/n tunes her out hitting each step until it’s time to hold the turns. she hits and hits for what seems forever trying to calm down as she assumes that the other 3 members are done. Until from the blink of an eye one person is still standing. it’s a competition in her mind, she turns and turns matching the pace of the other dancer, 5 turns done and the other girl isn’t giving up.

y/n is getting tired, she messed up by putting most of her stamina in the beginning portion making it harder to hit these turns clean. she tries to fight for dominance until the teacher slams on the wall “stop!” she yelled out, “what’s your names?” y/n, l/n maam” “kai, everdeen” the two dancers say. the teacher looks them up and down before saying in a loud demanding tone, “if you’re going to do turns like that for a long period of time, make sure you technique is on point” the teacher dismisses them away, then ends the class altogether. she speaks loudly “that was good for today, but you guys need to step up your game because what I saw today was a disaster waiting to happen, goodbye” with that, the words brought y/n back to reality. she feels her throat closes up realizing with this competition with her peer that in this class, makes her realize that she’s just an ordinary dancer in this world, nothing sticks out making her great or special. y/n feels flush and embarrassed getting called out in the class as she makes it through to the dressing room taking off her point shoes, tossing them in her bag. she quickly puts on her boots and makes her way out towards the door to leave. she runs out feeling her breath quicken, she doesn’t understand, she was supposed to be the best- she grows frustrated. to anyone else this simple call out and for how long the turns were going for it would be a simple okay, but to y/n this proved that she was getting farther towards sheer overall goal. scaring her that all this work and years she put in this sport was for nothing. she leaves and makes her way to her dorm, still fully dressed in ballet clothing, the difference is the strain of dance coming for her mentally and physically.

3rd person pov

Toge and Maki settle down in his room as he launches the discord call. “Yooooo Yujiii” he exclaims. “HEYYY TOG- who’s that” yuji replies. “oh that’s maki, she’s my friend/roomate and she’s going to join the stream if that’s okay” toge explains. “alright that’s cool, we’re just waiting on nobara and megumi and the we can start.” Not even a minute later both megumi and nobara join on and everyone introduces themselves again. After all the introductions and testing each camera and mic are finished, it’s showtime. toge and maki play on split screen, interacting with the fans and instantly clicking with the trio on the other line of the call. they play for thirty minutes and on the line of maki and toge they hear a knock. “Y/N finally”, maki sighs as she gets up waving bye to the stream, she walks up to y/n. when y/n finally looks up to maki she puts on a soft smile. “everything okay?” maki ask, “yeah!” y/n replies a little too fast for comfort, “okay, how was danc-.” maki is cut off by y/n yelling “oh toge your on stream??” he turns around from his desk and happy greets her “y/nnnnnnn welcome home come say hi. “hey everyone!!” she waves towards the computer screen, “smile for the camera!!” toge tells her. She smiles and starts looking at toge screen. maki grows suspicious but lets it be not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of a livestream. Behind the camera on Megumis side he widens his eyes, he scoffs recognizing the same person who ran in late to his statistics class. He then slightly curses at himself for making an expression over someone thats just in the same class as him. then panic overfills his head as someone who’s known for being expressionless and not very expressive just made a face for a random girl who popped on his screen. he tries to continue on, trying to cover up his mistake and focus on the game he’s playing on his computer. yuji suddenly pops up and yells “HI Y/NNN IM YUJII” nobara pops up as well introducing herself making it known that she will become friends with her. toge then pats the chair that once accompanied maki and asked her to join the stream, even though y/n is exhausted she agrees hoping it would take her mind on things. the stream continues on with nobara and y/n tag teaming toge, yuji and megumi each team destroying each others plots and taking each others treasured things. with almost an hour and half passing the stream ends with each player saying its farewells. Yuji bounces off his desk running into megumis room jumping off the walls. “that was fun megumi, megumi was that fun??” megumi looks up with an annoyed tone remembering about the homework he put off for this task. “yeah” he whispered. “i guess”.

megumis pov 3rd person

megumi found himself staring straight into his homework, he was assigned to direct an advertisement for his own made up brand due at the end of the week, assigned in class that day. he slams his fist down not being able to think of anything besides the problem he’s in with the world. after the stream he gained a lot of popularity finally making it to the 10 thousand club of followers. he groans as he starts to get stressed, streaming and posting on the internet was something he did for fun with the peer pressure of his childhood friend- he never thought it would grow to this level of popularity. every time he opens his phone now it’s a reminder of that new fame he has with new demand. with doing the math and thinking, he applies that in order to continue this support for his channel for not only himself but his friends, that means he has to upload a lot more. meaning more unwanted fame and more workload. megumi never really minded playing and uploaded as he thought it was fun and something to do in his free time, but now he’s rethinking his future and his channel completely. he grazes down to see the new “fan edits and ship names” created by his delusional fan base. this ship annoyed him a bit based on the sole fact that she’s in arm reach to him and she definitely knows about this new ship. he gets embarrassed because he has no idea who she is and where she came from. but after this scandal on the internet, she’s been in his mind the whole night. megumi groans frustrated as he turns away from his chair to settle down for bed, he doesn’t understand the complexity of the internet but he knows he’s becoming the middle of it. with many thoughts rushing in and out of his head he finally flips over to finally release the now throbbing headache he has, he falls asleep waiting for the troubles to attend to tomorrow.

Authors note: chapter 3…. a little angsty this chapter but MEGUMI AND Y/N FINALLY MET!!! in this chapter y/n took us along on her first day of dance… i don’t think she expected it to go like that tho… ANYYYYWAYYS i hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter and let’s see how the relationship develops. like always see you next chapter <3

fun facts:

• the gc was being a bit dramatic when they said his eyes “lit up” when he saw her, but at the same time it’s RARE for megumi to show any emotion on his face… maybe he saw something he liked….

• growing up y/n did many styles of dance her favorite being ballet because of how strict and demanding it is.

• nobara got pretty close to maki and y/n (new friendship #girlpower???

• megumi gets irritated when people on the internet ship him with other creators based on the fact that he doesn’t know them at all. making him a little uncomfortable

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shirohige-pirates · 5 months ago

Text

A Truly Mythological Christmas

Cisfem!Reader x Marco the Phoenix

You've seen the Hallmark movies where the successful business lady comes home to her small town hometown for the holidays and falls in love with the local stud, right? She gives up all that success and city living, and often dumps an otherwise decent city-business man in order to cozy up to the simple life in Simple Life City, USA.

This ain't that fucking story.

But it is a Hallmark AU - big city reader goes back home to the small town for the holidays and falls in love, but if that's all there was to this book, it wouldn't be very Mythological.

18+ - this story is going to get steamy in ways not allowed for your holiday Lifetime specials. Swearing, cheating, assassins, intrigue - you know, all that simple small town stuff.

Chapter 1: Values

Looking out over the city that was far below you right now, as the thrum of jet engines kept you in the air and vaulted you toward home, you took a moment for yourself.

Your parents had passed away when you were so young that the only parent you can remember is your adoptive mother. She was a big, take no prisoners kind of woman, stocky and full of piss and vinegar, with hair as fiery as the attitude she was willing to give.

Dadan had been a life saver for you, and you would be forever grateful to her.

Through her you made the most of what you had left to you, and now here you were. Graduated, and a financial officer in Candy Land, Inc. Six years with the company and you had gone from a nameless financial auditor into a person whose decisions could make or break the success of the company. Only your boss, Katakuri, and his mother, Linlin, had more weight in making financial decisions, but since Katakuri oversaw finance, quality assurance, and security, he often deferred to you without further input.

The freedom had given you the ability to steady profits in a positive trend, while also seeing that the company’s workers were properly compensated. Not that Candy Land had a reputation for undercutting, but Linlin herself had praised your efficiencies.

Which came with its pros and cons.

Linlin had a large family, and while a good number of them were tied up in the family business, a larger portion of them had been utilized, to either completely take over, or mostly integrate other businesses into her control. It was often phrased as a matter of protection, especially in the financial sense, and thus Candy Land had under its umbrella nearly thirty businesses that had initially stood well on their own.

All those lives thrived, and keeping it that way was effectively your job.

In doing that work, and working so closely with Linlin, you were introduced to her eldest son, Perospero. He was six years your senior, thirty-five to your twenty-nine, and he was currently in charge of the distribution centers for the company.

Dorky, but smart and more easy going than you had expected, it wasn’t surprising when he asked you out officially. You were both busy, but you were both in the same business, so you were still able to spend time, and meals together, and slowly get to know one another. A few months later he proposed, just the two of you, in the late hours of the night, after a particularly long and exhausting day at work.

It was sweet. Simple. Everything you had requested that it be, because despite the love for theatrics within his family - mostly from his mother, granted - you preferred things to be more intimate. The idea of him getting down on one knee during a charity event was enough for you to consider saying no, and you had warned him.

Pero had even apologized, once you accepted, that there would indeed be a public moment for this, at his mother’s insistence, but this way you wouldn’t be surprised. The two of you could play your parts to placate his mother, and leave her none the wiser on how it really went down. It would be your secret.

Something to hold you both together just a little closer.

Somewhere in the back of your head it had felt wrong. A dream, maybe. All of it seemed like a dream. The job, the success, the speed at which things had progressed. You worked hard at what you did, and Katakuri was neither empty with his praise, nor overly flowery about it. It might have felt like a dream, but your work, your worth, was valid.

Opportunities were likely to open up once you were officially married into the family, but you had not been incorrectly praised up to this point. There was nothing for Linlin to gain by offering one of her sons, save maybe assurances of your loyalty, but you had no business holdings or savings of your own. No innovative ideals, nothing that would balance the “loss” of one of her treasured assets. It was a statement of the value she placed in you, that she would be so accepting of your relationship.

Linlin’s value of you.

The thought gnawed at you. Clawed at any sense of peace you were trying to feel. The way that you’d always felt bad for Linlin’s children, that they always seemed to know, and accept, that they were going to be utilized by their mother. The gains of the company were the gains of the family, and everyone loyal to them, so they seemed to be mostly okay with that.

“Most everyone finds happiness.” Praline had told you during one of the family tea parties. “Angel and her husband live separately, but have stayed married. Angel’s kind of ruthless, if she was really unhappy I almost think her husband would have had an,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “unfortunate accident.” She laughed. “I just can’t see her suffering, but Mama’s also not unreasonable. She let Broye and Cracker get divorces when things didn’t work out, and even let Smoothie call off her wedding.

“She wasn’t happy, but who is with stuff like that?” The young girl had shrugged, and you had to concede the point. If you grew up that way, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.

Still, it chewed at you. The idea of it rankled. You cared about Perospero, even loved him, but there was something about it that felt transactional. He was always so attentive, and kind. He wasn’t too much with his gestures of affection, and he wasn’t too little with them either. Soft caresses and chaste kisses when others were around, passion when the doors were closed.

Privacy, like you liked.

But you knew. Even before that moment you knew. Standing there you were caught between surprise and vindication. Terrible, nauseating vindication, but vindication nonetheless.

You knew when he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed. You knew when you’d almost turned him down, the cold ball in the pit of your stomach dismissed as nerves. Dismissed as nothing more than maybe it was all progressing a little too fast.

You knew, and now it wasn’t just a feeling in your gut, it was a truth before your eyes.

What you hadn’t expected was to find him in your bed with two other people. The one you recognized as his secretary, Nokotti. It was such a cliche that you hadn’t even considered the possibility, but they never acted inappropriately at work. The other woman was called Tori, you think, but you’d only met her a couple times and had been mostly sure her and Nokotti were lovers.

Sitting on the plane, you look out the window and let the damnable scene play out in your mind again. The stupefied look on his face, the shock that changed to relief on her face, and the apathy on Tori’s face. You weren’t sure what expression was on yours, but it was enough to keep everyone quiet.

No one even flinched when you took a picture of the event with your phone. The soft sound of the shutter made by the phone was the only sound in the eerily silent room.

“I’m going to go home for the holidays.” You managed to say it evenly, as far as you could tell. The plans for you to return home had long since been set. You and Perospero were going to visit Dadan, stay for the autumn feast, and probably leave before Christmas.

There was a lot you both had to do for your work, it had been the most time the two of you could take at the same time.

“You and your things will be elsewhere when I return.” You’d tucked the phone back in your pocket, standing in silence for a long few moments as the other two took the hint and left the comforts of your bed. You barely even looked at them as they gathered their things, dressed enough to be legal, and left you and Pero alone.

To his credit he at least had the decency to look ashamed. Pulling off the ring and letting it drop to the floor had been both painful and relieving. You had cared for, and even more than that, trusted him. Maybe you should’ve asked if he was doing all of it for his mother’s sake, maybe you needed to let yourself realize you didn’t want to know.

Maybe it was for the best this way. Months before any wedding plans had been set in stone, instead of years after vows had been exchanged and children were involved.

The phone call with Dadan had been helpful, and the conversation with your boss had been awkward. She promised that your old room would be cleared out and ready for you. Warned you that her house was full again, but you’d already known that. Your boss had been very understanding, especially considering he was brother to your fiancé, and both were sons to the CEO.

He agreed to extend your time off, effective immediately, until after the first of the year. No additional paperwork on your end, and he’d make sure everything was covered. He couldn’t promise longer during that first phone conversation, but you’d spoken a time or two since then, and all the details were set.

Katakuri, at least, had sense enough to agree that was the bare minimum you were owed, considering Pero had done such a thing. He promised to do his best for you when you returned, and that had been effectively that.

And so you were off from Thanksgiving to New Years. Any longer and it would have to be a sabbatical, which was a valid option, but not what you wanted to consider at this point.

Ah, if only you had foregone your own morals and pursued your boss, you muse on the airplane, coming back to yourself and ending your walk through the last few days’ frustrations.

You wave your hand in front of your face and shake away the useless thoughts. Kata was a good soul, a rarity among his siblings in your current mindset, but he was also already madly in love. You might not be his personal assistant, but as a direct report you caught him looking wistfully at his phone enough times to know what was up. You were pretty sure you knew who he was looking at so lovingly.

It hadn’t been overt, but there’d been shifts in his demeanor whenever Smoothie’s fiance had been in the same room. It had been, you’d felt, a sentiment that was returned, but you couldn’t dare ask, or even hint at offering support. Katakuri wouldn’t have let the words escape you, he was too good at reading people and often either cut them short, or agreed with their resolutions before they had a chance to voice them. Sometimes it felt like he could see the future, but it was more likely that he was just more observant than most.

Idly, you hoped his mother wouldn’t destroy that love, whoever it was. Unlike some of his other siblings, you had the distinct impression that Katakuri would tear himself to pieces trying to obey his mother, so great was his loyalty.

The soft chime of an incoming announcement catches your attention, and you look out the airplane window as they speak. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we’re approaching Orthrus City, and will begin our descent into SPX airport. The temperatures are a brisk 42 degrees Fahrenheit, 5.5 degrees Celsius. Thank you for flying Wanotori airlines, we hope you had a pleasant flight, and we look forward to helping you navigate the Grand Lines again.”

Shoving the thoughts of the big city out of your head, you try to focus on your stay in your hometown. A small farming town, Sphinx had 100 acres to every one resident, but the rolling hills and wide open spaces had their own charms. The city was nice, and you loved your job, but there wasn’t much that could beat the comforts of home.

Especially when you were in need of comfort.

#a truly mythological christmas #marco the phoenix #x reader #reader insert #mdni #hallmark au

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aeternallis · 1 month ago

Note

hot take of the day: a large chunk of Kimchay fic is just BarcodeJeff fic labelled as Kimchay/under Kimchay disguise

Reply beneath the cut for you nonnie, because my response may ruffle a few feathers~

Otherwise...

One, you're right, nonnie, and you should say it proudly! Also loudly, for those in the back, lmaooo~

Two, RPF in and of itself is not a bad thing, imo. RPF enthusiasts tend to play in that unusual realm of having just enough distance from the RL actors themselves that so long as they're not forcing their fantasies onto said actors, there's nothing wrong with writing out how these individuals can potentially have an emotional connection that goes beyond professional.

In fact, I would even argue that RPF also deals not necessarily with real people, but rather the personas of real people, if that makes sense. Considering the fact that most RPF I usually see are about celebrities and whatnot, there's always going to be a level of superficiality going on, yknow?

Having said that, I also do feel like at the end of the day, this sort of phenomenon of mixing actors vs the fictional characters they play is just inevitable as one gets further away from the canon, yknow? It’s happened with most fandoms that have thrived on here before, and KPTS certainly isn’t exempt from that, alas. It’s definitely a confusing, weird mix of wanting to consume more content between these two actors who have a lot of chemistry in front of the camera, and I don’t know, shorthand tropes/RL events that the author assumes the readers keep up with.

Like, as an example: I talked about it with a friend a little while ago, but sometimes when I see fics of Kim making music that alludes to Jeff’s work (i.e. Dum Dum, Rain Wedding, etc etc.), I often find myself asking, “if we were to compare how Kim was left off in the show—struggling to write new songs, not much inspo to be had except his relationship w/ Chay, re-writing Chay’s song to fit his own purposes, etc. etc.—versus Jeff’s current/ongoing wellspring of various activities besides music, do they even line up artistically? Would their aesthetics and artist journey even match?”

Imo, it’s a very thought-provoking question. At the same time, it’s easy to say “yes, they would line up, because Jeff used a lot of his own experiences to bring the character to life!” without having to necessarily think about Kim's character, or why it’s very easy to mix up the actor and character, without even meaning to.

Like, there are some headcanons I scratch my head at and wonder, "do you really think this is a trajectory you see Kim falling into, or it's just because you view Jeff in this light?" Lolol

More than that, JeffBarcode also have a significant age gap. At the time KPTS was filming, Barcode was a minor, and it would have been inappropriate for them to have engaged in anything more, even in terms of marketing. And to be honest, even though Barcode is three-four years older now, many fans (especially the younger ones) have yet to get over this mental block/boundary, without inviting scrutiny and potential cancellation online, because everybody be pearl-clutching nowadays.

This being the case, I can definitely see why the JeffBarcode enthusiasts would much rather prefer to use the vehicle of KimChay as containers for their RPF fantasies, rather than outright saying their fic is pretty much JeffBarcode fantasy. Lol Readers may not take their ideas as seriously or worthy of merit, and I definitely get the instinct of wanting to indulge in one's delulu, but also keeping yourself safe from harassment.

So, as a result? We get a lot of Kimchay fics that are masks for RPF fantasy, and less of fics actually examining the fictional characters themselves and what can they say about them, cut off from whatever the hell's going on with their RL actors.

It's not necessarily a bad thing, but there's less of the transformative aspect of fanfiction and art that comes as a result, unfortunately.

#kimchay #kinnporsche the series #anon ask #something fun to think about #nonnie if you ever wanna come off anon and reach out to me #feel free #i'd love to talk more about it with you #it's a fun topic to talk about #rpf #fandom meta

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knaveumineko · 4 months ago

Text

Umineko Episode 1 Blog: First Twilight

This is the beginning of everything.

The first murder case is the hardest of the bunch. There is such a huge gap of time in which it could have occured, 6 different people died, we are given very little material evidence to pin down the series of events, almost everyone is a suspect, including some of the dead, and the circumstances lead me to believe that the crime is the result of a large number of actors, rather than a single convenient culprit. Narratively, it seems clear that truly understanding the first case provides the key to understanding the "why" behind the murders, and thus to unravelling all of the mysterious events on Rokkenjima.

A few things we can be sure of:

Krauss and Shannon are dead. The story will later call into question the state of the other bodies, and narratively speaking there should be some reason why these two are the ones whose faces are only partially damaged. The story wants us to understand that, at the very least, these two were killed.

The crime scene was deliberately arranged to reflect the epitaph, which mentions six sacrifices.

There is blood in the dining room, so at least some of the murders likely happened there.

To start forming any other hypotheses, let's start doing a bit of interpretation.

Let's start with Shannon's final moments. This is a 3rd person scene, and features explicit magic to boot, so it definitely didn't happen, but we are nevertheless obliged to work out what it means. Beatrice's butterflies are symbolically associated with misfortune. The unnamed servant who was injured before the story began is said to have seen the butterflies, and then been hurt. This description is framed rather passively: it is not that Beatrice attacked them, but that they simply got injured. We see further references to fate throughout Episode 1. Notably, we are told that the 6 sacrifices are chosen by "the key of fate," and Kinzo's scenes make reference to the "Demons' Roulette".

Later on, I want to make a dedicated post to discussing the epitaph and how it relates to the murders, but for now I just want to focus on the first line:

On the first twilight, offer the six chosen by the key as sacrifices.

This line is rather notable in its precise phrasing. While most of the twilight lines explicitly tell the reader to kill someone, this one only says that the 6 must be in some sense "offered as sacrifices". They do not all have to die. More importantly for our current purposes, the epitaph says that the 6 must be chosen by fate, in some sense. In other words, the culprits responsible for maintaining the myth of the witch can't be responsible for the initial killings. They have to wait for murders to start happening naturally and then start carrying out the epitaph's directions.

My suspicion, based largely on circumstancial evidence, is that the initial killings were started by Battler's parents. Here are my reasons:

The story goes out of its way to mention Rudolph and Kyrie both wearing makeup, and then reuses the term makeup when describing the state of their faces. In the moment we're supposed to see this as metaphor, but given the story flagging the possibility of fake corpses later, it seems more like planting a seed.

Rudolph and Kyrie have ample motivation to assassinate Krauss, and we've already seen how the older siblings can bully Rosa into going along with their schemes. They could have had her in on it and then double-crossed and killed her too.

The deaths of the servants on duty are explained as them needing to cover up their initial murders. Under this interpretation, the "misfortune" that Beatrice's butterflies represent is a reference to the fact that Shannon was never supposed to be in the Mansion, but by an unfortunate coincidence she ended up getting killed.

Kyrie, the originator of the "spin the chessboard" metaphor, would absolutely have tried to conceal the true reasons for the murders by disguising them as ritualistic killings to carry out the epitaph. The only other people I could see bothering with this are the servants, but I've already said that I don't think they could be the original culprits, since they have to let fate decide the first victims.

I will mention here that I think the boiler room scenes could potentially back up my theory, but that will have to wait a few posts. I'm excited to get around to the boiler room.

Rudolph tells his family to expect him to turn up dead, the night before the killings actually occur. Kyrie then chases him up to find out what he's talking about. Kyrie herself explains Rudolph's behaviour as him wanting to tell Battler something, but being prevented from sharing it for some reason. If we think from the perspective that I'm wrong, this would indicate that Rudolph suspected the true killers' motives, but if we assume I'm right then it tells us that he was already plotting. He knew the events would be upsetting to his son, and felt the impulse to warn him, but ultimately knew that he could not afford to tell Battler anything.

Rudolph's character profile after death says "he has a right to lament his ill fortune". Rudolph is the only character whose post-death profile talks about him in the present tense like this. It's a strange way to phrase a statement about a dead person.

The bloody scratchmarks on Natsuhi's bedroom door take on a coherent symbolic meaning under this theory. It should be noted that we never actually see these bloody marks outside of a single 3rd person scene. Natsuhi later brings up hanging the scorpion charm on her door, but the blood is only mentioned in an internal monologue written by Maria. Genji only brings up the blood himself in a single scene with the servants in the kitchen, but this is also 3rd person and Battler's later 1st person narration doesn't clarify whether or not he actually heard Genji say this (probably not, or he surely would have brought it up at some point). Presumably, these scenes are Maria explaining her interpretation of events: she thinks the charm protected Natsuhi.

On a meta level, these scenes might be intended to tell us that the culprits behind the initial killings wanted to get rid of Natsuhi as well, but were somehow prevented from doing so. One possibility is that they simply ran out of sacrifices: Kyrie and Rudolph have to fake their own deaths, and kill Krauss and Rosa. They were expecting to have to kill Gohda, who was the only servant on the night shift in the mansion, which would let them kill Natsuhi as their 6th and final sacrifice. However, Shannon, who wasn't supposed to be there, ended up taking the 6th slot instead. They probably bumped into her in the halls when they were looking for Natsuhi's room, which is what the butterflies represent.

My major problem I'm running into here is that I can't understand the role of Kinzo's inner circle in all of this. They surely co-operated in creating the locked room mystery. Kanon was the one who supposedly discovered the suspicious state of the storehouse, and we already know he's Maria's witch. My guess is that he locked the storehouse room himself before reporting it to everyone. Later events will pretty strongly imply all the servants were working to maintain the conspiracy to some extent, and we get that 3rd person scene with Genji and Kanon where they discuss starting their "morning chores," which is probably meant to tell us that they co-operated on setting up the locked room mystery. Since Natsuhi told the servants to replace the locks after she saw the bodies, they had the opportunity to return to the scene and let the fake victims leave before locking the storehouse for good.

I can believe Kyrie and Rudolph killing these people and trying to create the illusion of the epitaph. I can believe the servants would co-operate in creating such a legend, out of their dedication to Kinzo's legacy if nothing else, but my main issue is that I don't understand how they could be co-operating. Why would Kyrie and Rudolph ever think the servants would help them with all of this? There's clearly something I'm not understanding. I really like the theory that Battler's parents are the culprits, but if that's true I would need to do more work to explain everyone's motivations. Maybe this is something I can leave for when I've read more of the story.

Part of me wonders if it's ok to leave things off here when there are such clear holes in my theory, but at the end of the day there's only so much time I'm going to dedicate to figuring stuff out before I want to just read on. Me being wrong about everything is half the fun, anyway

The next post will probably be about Eva and Hideyoshi's deaths.

#umineko episode 1 #umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #umineko liveblog #liveblogging #umineko when they cry

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