#this moment circulates in my mind constantly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tmwcs · 9 months ago

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WARNINGS: This is written in Heethan’s y/n perspective, mentions of ritualistic killings, alternative universes, religious references (some accurate and some fictional), all heeleads, all y/n’s, references to SE7EN, MERMAIDS TALE, MGR/MRE/HHP, THE OTHERSIDE and DOUBLE TROUBLE (I would high suggest reading all these series before reading this), unprotected smut, angels and demons, angels are bad guys, devils are good guys, kidnapping, time and space travel, alternate characters, some cursing, grotesque language, sexual tension, some fluff, and some intermingling moments, (enough to give you some ideas 😏) images and smaus attached, cliche rescue mission, and I think that’s it.

A/N: this was just an idea that came to mind as I was listening to music. A fun read.

Turmoil stirs the middle of the sky, a collection of debris, dust, and smoke circulate within it. The strong current of gravitational force absorbs bits and pieces of man-made features, further expanding its reign of terror.

It was a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind of evil spirits, angels, and demons combined, formulating an abomination that was neither Heaven, nor Hell. Two worlds of entities unite, all embracing the common ground that humans were a non-sensible creation by God. In their eyes, humans were nothing but livestock for the immortals.

The senior head of this ritualistic army had an idea—a new image for the aged world, where unearthly entities would herd and breed the human race…In preparation for the grand feast. With this process in place, the world would be controlled by themselves, gaining power to extend their influence through alternate space and time. All the parallel universes that were constantly being created, would become restricted, ceasing the expansion of human life.

“My followers…the time has come where we need to take back what is owed to us. WE have lurked in darkness far too long, feeding on the scraps of these scavengers…these HUMANS!” His head contained three faces, one centered and nestled in between the two disfigured profiles. Their mouths remained wide open, agasp with horror while the center focal features did all the talking, carrying all the range of emotions. “WE have been betrayed by both, God and the Devil…the two fathers who should have been nurturing us, ignored our caution instead. They turned their backs on us; made us starve as we craved for sustenance and glory…but no more! Today, we strike and take the blood of the most beloved, the one who carries the light of God, and the blood of Lucifer! This I pray…my demons of carnage, and angels of darkness…do not stop at just the one…take them all! Search through every vortex of this abysmal continent. Go above the universal horizon, far and wide through space and time, and gather your efforts— leave no part of the cosmic galaxy unturned. Raid the entire universes, all worlds, and bring me her adaptations. Bring forth every variation of her current soul, so that we may tear, grind, and feast on that delicate flesh…let us hit them where it hurts most…let us seek to make God cry, and break the heart of the Devil.”

The spawn of angels and demons scatter in mass multitudes, covering the entire sky while they surpass greater heights, surrounding their numbers across every comet and planet.

Finding you in this world was simple. Entirely too easy…

Like any other given day, you sat in class next to h/n, drafting the primary notes as your professor read the lecture aloud. The yelling of a fellow classmate startled the entire classroom, catching everyone off guard.

“What the fuck is that?!”

Everyone turned to view the scenery outside the window. The light blue sky grows dark, as the horizon blackened with a darkened hue. The foliage draping the tree branches suddenly shriveled and died off. The air around the building turned black; everyone became frantic and ignored the professor's false sense of composure. He tried his best but it was easy to see that he too was frightened and didn’t know how to handle the stirring frenzy that took place inside the room.

“What the Hell is going on?! Why did the sky get so dark all of a sudden?” H/n spoke out with tears glossing over her eyes as the girl sitting next to her called home. She hectically informs her mother of the unknowns that were happening outside the campus, all the while you barely spoke, or reacted as you overheard the girl's decree. The shock of it all stunned you; it wasn’t until your phone began buzzing that you came back to your senses.

The moment his own classmates sporadically spiraled out of control, Heeseung wasted no time in getting out. He had to get to you.

You were the first priority on his list. Ignoring his own safety, he bursts through the door— the only one brave enough to kick it wide open before sprinting towards the parking lot. Everyone whispered and spoke harshly as they watched the young man making his way over to you. God help anyone if something happens to you.

In an instant, everything turned upside down. You’re not sure what or how it happened, but it felt as if a group of hands were pulling you from side to side, pushing and tugging at the same time. Looking around, it seemed as if time was at a standstill. The entire class paused in mid motion, gravity lost its effect as students jumping out the window were stationed in mid air, unmoved. What was going on? Were you the only one that could move? The only one that wasn’t affected by this loss of motion? If so….did that mean that Heeseung…

……..

It occurred in a blink of an eye.

What the hell just happened? For a moment, Heeseung felt as if his heart had stopped beating. It happened during mid drive, when suddenly the roaring engine slurred, and the small bit of ash and debris in the air slowed until they froze in place. It wasn’t long before his own movements came to a pause, and before he knew it, he could no longer breathe. It was odd, despite not being able to take in air, the pressure from his chest was fine, almost as if he was holding his own breath.

It held on for two seconds before the distant sound of the engine grew louder and the tires resumed rotation, causing a sudden screeching noise to puncture his ears. What the fuck…!

The only thing that lingered on his mind was you. Shit…y/n! Hold on baby…

By the time he reached the building, merely two minutes after receiving your last text, you had already been taken.

Everyone stood wondering just the same as to what had occurred. They looked around and noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except when h/n pointed out your sudden absence. “Huh?…Anyone seen where y/n went? She was just right…here….”

Her voice subtly pauses as Heeseung silently walks through the double doors, with you nowhere in sight…his heart dropped to his stomach and a total sense of despair hit him. He wanted to die…he wanted to shake the earth to its core and kill off every bit of life that coated the surface. A state of hopelessness and emptiness fills him.

‘Y/n…’

…….

One by one, the entities visited alternate universes and found four more women, conjoining them as prisoners and leaving you all chained in a row. Brought forth, you all were all scanned with a morbid look of satisfaction as an alienated, metallic figure screeched through hundreds of jagged teeth, directing its elongated fingers to a specific direction. It was communicating with its more fleshy counterparts.

They marched you and the remaining maidens into a large bunker, nearly shoving you all down the uneasy steps. Once inside, a single light source allows you to take in the view of the abrupt companionship you were forced to confront.

‘Is…is this for real?’

The strangest phenomenon you ever witnessed. It was as if you were staring into a mirror, or a twin…several twin versions in fact.

These girls…they were…you. Some of them displayed subtle alterations of your appearance such as hair and eye color, even a small difference in age. But make no mistake, you pinched the skin on your arm as you confirmed that indeed, you were seeing yourself in various substitutions.

“I…don’t believe this…are you all….who are you?” One of the girls reflected aloud. Just as lost as you were, each one took a moment to observe the variations of…you.

A terrifying screech sounds off outside the bunker, similar to that of the metallic humanoid creature from earlier.

“What are those things?” The one who spoke, she looked and sounded exactly like you. It was such a surreal experience to see this happening in real time.

She looked more mature. With her sense of style and elegance, she encompassed the very essence of classy feminine virtue, a version that you always saw in yourself in the near future, when you were married and already graduated from college. Her hair and eye color were lighter than yours, but the structure of her face and body, the finer details of her expression and features were an exact match to your own.

“Does anyone know why we are here? What do those things want from us?” another variation of yourself spoke delicately.

Unlike the latter, who had hair that was fair and eyes that sparkled in chromes of light blue, this one had dark forest green hair, and feline eyes, which were both fierce and strikingly beautiful. She had the appeal of one with great wisdom and maturity, a variation of yourself that you never could imagine would exist. She continued to speak, pondering on the forceful monsters that wreaked havoc above and outside the bunker. “The one we saw earlier, whose body looked like metal, was that a...”

A calm voice speaks gracefully, politely inserting into the conversation. Her voice was slightly deeper, and tranquil, but not as twinkling as the one who carried the forest green locks. With those lips, stained blood red and coated with a subtle shine, she answers…“They’re angels.”

Everyone else turned to face in her direction. You all stared and admired the royal grace she portrays in her stance, it gave off an aura that reflected her higher age. It didn’t appear in her face, but it was through her persona and posture. Just like the one with the emerald strands, she displayed elegance in all aspects; her features, tone, and strut. Of all the variations that stood before you, she was the one you became most curious about.

“Angels? As in…from heaven?” Another variation, except this one seemed much more calm—perhaps too much.

Her lids were heavy and she spoke with a monotone voice. Her hair was stained a deep and vibrant color. It looked somewhat fresh, and contained a specific shade of purple, but not just any code of the color. It was not lavender, violet, or even muave, but more like a royal purple…it was as if the color was mixed specifically to match a certain shade. Maybe a particular flower? Perhaps it was made to match a blouse, or a type of fabric, like silk.

Noticing her demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel sorry as you took pity on this image of yourself; one that carried a dark sadness around, yet somehow flared a sense of contentment. It was contradicting, yet there eas something else that you couldn’t pin down about her. Almost as if she was carrying a nightmarish secret, but did it out of protection. Only question was, who is she protecting? Was it herself? Or could it be…?

You catch yourself drifting in thought when one of the girls asks your age. She inquired by stating that you looked the youngest, which was confirmed correct after you answered. Between you and your alternate state of beings, your ages ranged from eighteen to twenty eight, the latter title of the eldest belonging to the one with the dark burgundy lips.

She gazes up to the cathedral ceiling and crosses her arms, speaking out each word so confidently. Her hair was dark, nearly black with a deep, red hue…like red wine, and nails to match. She radiated a contrasting theme of goth and sensual femininity, like light and darkness combined. Everyone thought the same as they pondered on the mysteriously alluring sense of their alternate identity.

“Angels? How do you know? Have you seen them before?” The eldest one nods in response. Her eyes were heavy, as if she experienced a loss in energy recently. Still, she remained ever so composed and fashionable in Vogue like nature. You couldn’t help but think it, as somewhat narcissistic the thought may have seemed, but you found yourself idolizing what very much was the future outlook of yourself.

“This is so strange…it’s so weird to see…you…or me…I mean….what are we, exactly?” You sputtered as you make eye contact with the seldom one with the royal purple thatch of hair. She smiled softly and was the first one to respond.

“I am almost sure what our names will be, but I’ll be the first to say it…my name is y/n…”

Everyone snapped their heads up and chuckled in delight. Finally, a sense of relaxed humor amongst this terrifying ordeal. “We all have the same name?” The fairer version of you spoke, admitting for all of you to find comfort within each other.

The former y/n continued. “I guess we do.” You smile sweetly as you inquire about her background, to which she gently responds. “I worked as a consultant after graduating college and… “ she pauses, catching her breath. It was evident that the girl had been through a traumatizing experience, or maybe was still going through it all. Yet she displayed some fortitude as she completed her sentence. “I live with my husband…somehow I was brought here and I don’t have any memory of it. It happened so fast.”

“Me too….” The fairer one spoke. Her shiny hair gracefully rested beneath her collarbones as she spoke through her matte rosy stained lips. A beautiful combination. You couldn’t get over this experience, It was miraculous to see yourself with those featured traits. You wondered if variations of those closest to you exist, like Heeseung, Jake, and H/n. The thought of the three suppressed your slight bit of happiness as you wondered if you’d be able to escape with the others.

“I live with my husband too…well…husbands, if we’re being completely open.”

You all perked a brow upon her words. Did those rosy lips just tell you correctly…“Husbands?”

She nods seldomly while interlocking her fingers above the waist, avoiding eye contact and instead, focusing on a spot on the floorboards. “Yes….my husbands are brothers…and through them I have two boys of my own.” She pauses as her eyes welt up. “I…was putting my boys to sleep when something pulled me away from them…it was strange…it almost seemed like time was standing still.”

“Me too!” You spoke out. “I saw the same thing when I was pulled away.”

The fairer one smiled at you. “You are still so young…a younger version of myself.” Her change of topic was so sudden but she could see it in your face, hear it in your voice, and see it in your movements; seeing you in fluid motion made her visit down memory lane. “Yes.” You answered as you returned the smile. “I'm almost finished with my first year at college…I live with my fiance in his dorm.”

You all chuckled.

“His dorm?” The fairer one teases. “Yes well…believe it or not I don’t really have a choice.” You jest, yet the statement held more truth than anything you ever admitted.

It didn’t take time to consider their reaction. Upon hinting at Heeseung’s dark and toxic nature, it soon became evident you weren’t the only one. Unknowingly, you would open up another path that you all shared in common.

“He keeps you there?” You nod as the one with the dark forest green hair spoke. “Ah…” she sighs. “Just like mine…at least he used to. Now…well, I gave up. There wasn’t any point in fighting it.”

She chuckles once more as she rubs her temples, finding the entire scenario ironic. “I too live with my husband…it started just as forcefully as your situation but it’s been over two years now…” she pauses. The rest of the girl’s all related, all but you.

“Well…it is forceful but…he has good intentions, doesn’t he?” You inquired as the one with the dark green hair looks back up. A faint smile dons her lips as her delicate nails caressed her chin. With beauty and truth to her tone, she responded, almost in caution of warning. “Just like your fiance, he has the best…and the worst intentions.”

“What about you? Are you also married to a psycho? Or two?” The one married to dual husbands jokes, stabbing at her own life as she includes the last variant into the conversation. The eldest; she was the most elusive one out of all of you.

Turning her face over, she delivers a soft gaze and looks at each one of you with such nurture in her expression. Through those dark burgundy lips, she spoke gently. “I do.” She lightly chuckles. “I live with my husband, and much like all of you…I didn’t really have a choice.”

Closing her eyes, she reopens with a fresh countenance. Licking her loose she chuckles and tilts her head, taking small steps over to you. She cups your face and displays a saddened look, yet it was paired with a sweet smile. Her gaze hinted that she knew something…or maybe she could see something within your future that made her pity you.

With her intuitional sense, and foresighting ability, she reveals your deepest secret.

“You have another side of you…one that is equal to his darker half.”

Was she referring to Eden and Ethan? But…how does she know?

You slightly gasp as you remained stunned by her words. She looks over to the one with the dark green hair. “You and your husband carry the blood of the ancient gods within you.”

In response, the sea maiden looked somewhat confused. “How could you possibly know that?”

The former admits partial truth to her own secret. “I know all…I can see all….I can see your most inner kept secrets just by looking into your eyes. It was a gift from my husband after we were…” she pauses after catching herself diving down to details to at may be too indiscreet. The image of Heeseung’s devilish form atop of her, probing and thrusting away was not something she wanted the girls to visualize…she rather not think about it herself, despite the progression of her relationship to the aforementioned male. “Married.”

She turns to the fairer one, and continues to prove her capabilities. “Your husbands sired their own twin sons within you, and through those babies, you found true love.” The latter looks down, almost shamefully. Yet the eldest tilts her chin up and whispers, “nothing wrong with that.” She winks and smiles, and watched as those rosy colored lips smirked delightfully. This was, after all, a safe space for sisters who share more than just identical traits. You were all connected, through fate and soul.

She looked to the one with the royal purple hair. “Your husband's deeds have haunted you. With nowhere to turn, you chose to return his love but you are ridden with sadness knowing that you are his cure.”

The purple haired y/n didn’t say a word, she only nodded in admittance while drifting her sight off to the wall.

“As for me…” she pauses as she faces the ceiling once more. “I made a deal with the Devil many years ago. Through it, I lost my mortality, and gained immortality…I am known as the mortal daughter of God, but rebirthed as the bride of Helel...my husband, and father to my son.”

“Helel?” Through her purple strands, the girl spoke out of confusion. Never has she heard such a distinctive name in her life.

Just as the conversation reached pause, the door to the bunker opens. A combination of the hostile angels and demons standby. A disfigured tone emits from their tongue as they point and begin separating you away from one another.

You felt scared upon seeing the fleshy demon grip your wrist, pulling you away as the others were being dragged into sporadic direction. The girls all tried their best to fight off the large swarm, and recollect. Through a shared sense, there was a need to get back to you, the younger version of themselves. The need to protect each other and stay together remained strong, however, the monsters proved too strong as their numbers increased. They found it easier to carry you away into singular, isolated chambers. The echoes of their screams, sounding so much like your own voice, become distant and unheard.

You backed yourself against the cold stone wall and slid down until the tile flooring meets your rear. All seemed hopeless at this point. The terrifying sounds of demonic growls and piercing angelic screeches merge from outside the door, all frenzying as they carry out their next deed, whatever that could be. It was too frightening to think about. What is going to happen? How is Heeseung going to save you this time? Your Heeseung…the one who is always there to bring you back home…how is he going to possibly find you? You don’t even know where you are.

‘Heeseung…I’m scared.’

You wonder if the others felt just as scared and hopeless.

The fear of being lonesome started to eat you alive, it was far worse than when Heeseung carried out one of his punishments, and locked you away for breaking his rules. You hated it more than ever, being secured away in darkness and suffering from desolation. Looking back at it, his method seemed tamed compared to how you were currently being treated.

You also knew, despite succumbing to the harsh effects of being tied to a bed frame, or locked inside a closet, at least the comfort of knowing he was going to be around…that he was always going to come back to get you, whether it was hours or a day later, was something you had lost appreciation for in the past, but yearned for it more than ever. He was always there to make sure you were safe, despite carrying out an act that clearly violated your human rights…it was his way of loving you…his manner of understanding it.

‘I wouldn’t have to do this shit if you’d listen and just do what I tell you. It’s all for a good reason…”

His words from past recollections continue to play in your head.

‘To keep you safe…and to keep you as MINE. Get it through that dumb, pretty little head of yours already. No matter how many times you fight me on this, you’re going to lose.’

You used to scoff at his justification, growing irritated at his own resolve. You always figured he was overreacting.

All those times when you were caught speaking to someone from class outside at the parking lot, didn’t matter if they were boy or girl, he’d always became so possessively evil, and jealous. His handsome smirk goes from dashing to sinister as he lets out the wolf from its cage: Ethan.

But no matter how emotionally tormenting…or mentally abusive he could be…one thing would always remain true, and that was his unyielding love for you…just you.

The door knob twists violently as the door panel rambles, snapping you out of mid thought. You stood up and cornered yourself, completely frightened by what was on the other side. Finally breaking open, it swings wide inward. You swore your eyes were going to fall through the sockets. It couldn’t be… “H-Heeseung?”

Tears balled up and your heart pauses in mid-pulse. He steps closer in towards the light and there you saw, it was Heeseung…but he seemed different. His attire was similar, but his hair…it carried a particularly familiar shade of purple, just like—

“Hmph…” he smirks, daring a bold look as he scans you up and down. “So this is what you looked like when you were eighteen.”

The way his words growled upon stating your tender age sent a shiver up your spine, a familiar sense that you were accustomed to. “Damn, so this is what you were like at eighteen… you were just born perfect, weren’t you?” A snarling wink flashes you.

He reaches and grabs your wrist. “Gotta hurry princess.”

Leading the way and keeping you close behind, he rubs his fingers and gently massages your skin in his hold. His cologne was so different from the Heeseung you knew. It was a musky scent of blue agave and sandalwood.

Luring you around every corner, running past a hall filled with portraits, you finally configured where the entities had been keeping you, it was an old church.

“W-what about the others…the other—“

He calmly interjects as you stuttered, trying to find a way to describe the collection of your alternate self, including the one who you suspected belonged to him.

“We should be seeing them soon.” He spoke as he remained attentive to the surroundings. You were so taken aback by his resemblance that you were ignorant of the weapon he held…a machete?

“H-how did you find us?” You questioned. He tightens his grasp as he leads you down a spiraling staircase, completely made of stone. “Met the others—something about getting all of the you’s and I’s out, and back to our respective universes. There was also something about a demon who wanted to piss off God, and the Devil, blah, blah, blah.”

He spoke carelessly and left out all of the vague details as he remained focused in getting you to safety. Just as you both reached the main cathedral, you witness from across the wide room, all the other variants of yourself were being guided by Heeseung, a few of them. The one right across had ash-blonde hair and….a dark haired one trailing behind…

The y/n with the dark forest green hair stood out as they centered her, providing three-sixty coverage of security. Once they saw you and the Purpled haired Heeseung leading you, they led the other you to rejoin and come to center, surrounding you both in a combative formation.

Also rejoining the group was the one who had the dark purple locks that matched the Heeseung who rescued you; behind her was the alternate version of yourself that carried the red-wine lips. The girls were guided by a version of Heeseung, whose eyes glowed blue and his hair was dark as the ocean.

In the opposite direction, from the corner of your eye you catch on to the fair alternate you, and in front, was him…there he was…Heeseung…your Heeseung, and Ethan.

You could see both entities behind those dangerous eyes. Seeing you safe, along with all the other girls restored life to his gaze as he smiled and felt the weight lifted off his shoulders. ‘There you are…there’s my pretty baby.’

Without stopping, they continued to urge you all to run as they herd each of you to stay centered in their squad position, forming an arrow shape around you and the girls.

Aside from the machete, the other Heeseung’s all bore their own weapons, and from the looks of it, they were most likely found on display in the upper dungeons, which you concluded is where you and the others were being kept prior to being saved.

Your Heeseung gripped on two long swords, while the twins had an ax and a long, steel club, similar to a bat. The other Heeseung with the azure hair skillfully handled a rifle, and had a pistol holstered to his thigh.

The moment of uniting didn’t last pleasantly as the stone tile beneath your feet shook, and the light fixtures rattled above. Something was coming, and it carried enough anger to swell up his size.

Each booming placement of its foot stomping the ground quaked the earth. Just seconds after stabilizing your ground, the grand entrance starts to crack. The arch lining and pillars split apart as an overly muscular frame, with humanoid expressions, enters. He ducked his head in by tucking the chin while the ceiling began to crumble above. When he revealed himself fully, you and the other girls gasped at the horrid sight of the monster before you.

His face was split into three, with six pairs of horns that adorned each head, eluding terrible and frightening expressions. His body was similar to that of a man, with exaggerated muscles that looked to produce enough strength that of an entire army. A long offensive tongue spills out of his evil grin as jagged and serrated teeth flash from the joker wide grin. His eyes resembled that of a goat or sheep, but larger. With both hands containing claws that reached measurement by the foot, you winced at the thought of being grabbed by them. The palms contained numerous spurred teeth that formed hooks, similar to the mouth of a parasite, such as a leech. In fact, his entire body was covered with them, slowly fading as they reached the three facial expressions. There were lacerations that appeared on his chest, opening and closing sporadically. They blinked repeatedly with horrendous teeth and eyes peeking out from beneath the tissue and skin. What on earth was this creature?

Standing in his full glory, he speaks with a diabolical tone. “Leave the women behind, and I shall spare your lives, and bless you with power and immortality. You will become the generals of my league.”

The boys all stood in line, keeping you and the others behind, guarding with their own lives at stake, willing and ready to take on anything. Rather than seeing any bit of you harmed, they all remained solid as they would rather die or be tortured than to see a single scratch on anyone of your bodies. The creature takes their gesture with jests, chuckling before he adds on to his demand.

“You are not the one that I care to gut and split open, yet if you insist, it will be my utmost pleasure to rip all of you apart in front of your precious darlings, and then feast on your corpse afterwards.”

You held on to the girl with the purple locks. Her matured instincts kick in, knocking away the original demeanor she carried before. The troubled and quiet woman feels the need to cradle you, a younger version of herself, and presses you against her chest while she covers your eyes. Peeking out from the corner of her embrace, you saw the purple haired Heeseung peer a faint side eye, noting the comfort she was providing, and the fear that stayed by it. His eyes met with hers, eluding a look of reassurance, as if he were telling her that he wasn’t going to let anything happen. Not him, or his alternate figures.

Heethan also takes in the image of your sheltering. His stern and yet relieved facial expression showed the two sides of his being, Heeseung, and Ethan. He emits a quick nod the moment you make eye contact. ‘Not today…not ever. Nothing is touching a single inch of you, pretty baby.’

The remaining alternate versions of yourself come and join in, grouping you in the center as you all remain behind the boys. The eldest stood right in between, establishing an embrace to shield you and the others as her back was facing the row of Heeseung’s. All five of them stood, readily armed as the creature's patience ran thin. Taking a step forward, the ground cracks, stones protrude inward and wouldn’t hold much longer, nearly collapsing.

The boys step back, urging all of you to back away with caution. You all suddenly halt your movements to safety at the sight of numerous demons and angels suddenly entering from all directions in the cathedral, trapping the entire group to the center beneath the large chandelier.

“It’s useless.” The creature spoke out as his tongue splits into two. “God asked for this…the Devil wanted this.”

The eldest produces a harsh side eye at the creature's mentioning of the latter. Her dark red-wined lips quiver open faintly as she hisses toward the mentioning of his name. The audacity of this creature.

“If only they had heeded our words, and met our demands. We would not be as blood starved. You mortals…you children of the Earth, deserve torture that exceeds the worst kind of death in existence. I should have been granted eternal life in his holy kingdom. It is I, who should have been throned as one of the seven Princes of Hell. Yet both God and Lucifer denied me of what is owed to me. They should have recognized me! The demon Molech! Now…God shall bear witness to the human existence coming to its end, beginning with his only daughter, and the sisters that share her form and soul. Let the heart of the Devil fall into despair upon realizing that his only love would be violated with her innards split, and torn from bone.”

Molech crouches into position, nearly ready to pounce through the boys, and straight to you and the girls. You all could see it in his eyes, the glaring reflection of you and the girls as his primary target. “May all of you scream as I devour you alive, and shit out your guts onto the stones of this very church. I will splatter your organs for all to witness what is coming.”

He lunges forward. It was the last known image that replayed in your head spontaneously as you cringed onto the girls.

The movement happened so fast, and the entire group of you screamed as the boys grit their teeth, yet silence…fills the air. Not a single sound of bone cracking skin tearing, and blood curdling screams sounded off after Molech made his offensive move.

You’re not sure what happened. You were bracing for impact and for the unthinkable to occur, yet moments passed and you realized that everyone stood, remaining whole and without injury. Still warmed by the embrace of the girls, you slowly open your eyes.

From what you could deduce, the figure had pummeled down from above, piercing through the ceiling of the church strategically so as to not fully crumble its structure. With a hand buried deep into Molech’s back, it pierces through the monstrous flesh as the thousands of small teeth that covered his hideous body attempts to cut through the sleeve of his black coat. You admired his beautiful form as large black-feathered wings extend magnificently from his back. He resembled paintings that depicted Heaven’s arch-angels.

Appearing as a Victorian prince, he slowly rises from his crouching stance. Dressed in dark, vintage-goth attire, he stands gloriously, releasing his stabbing hold of the demon beneath the soles of his boots. The thatch of black hair matched that of his feathers, so dark that it contained a blood red hue under the dim glare. As his face comes to light, your breath escapes so suddenly—you swore your heart skipped a beat…it was Heeseung. Another alternate variation of your beloved.

“Helel…” the elder y/n breathes out through her dark stained lips while gazing at her husband. A look of relief accompanies her whispering softness as he shifts a quick look over, feeling much relieved himself after seeing her unharmed.

With a wild smirk, he speaks. His voice was deep and dark, yet soft as he adoringly addressed her. “My queen.”

His eyes matches his tone as they soften; the murderous glare hushes down to a look of tranquility. “Love of my eternal life…I’ve come to bring you back home with me…where you belong.”

The beauty of love and passion between the two is cut short as Molech suddenly strikes, yet misses as Heeseung, or Helel, springs off to the side, levitating from a distance. He was so fast. His speed was inhuman as you and the others watched the demon making many failed attempts to catch him. “You WILL take her back, as you will join her at death by my hand! YOU—are nothing but a failed angel, and a false prince!”

Mech spoke out his poisonous words, yet seeing the calmed expression on the Prince's face irked him as Helel remained unbothered, so long as his darling was safe.

The very last bit of his words barely spit out as Helel dives in, like a flash of light. With his much smaller frame, he is enumerated strength that surpasses Molechs as he grips the demon by another piercing hold, this time, it was through the center of his chest. The creature’s internal organs flare up, lighting as if they were being filled with lava. His skin became transparent as you all viewed the spewing of fluids secreting from the burns. He screams in pain as the sores on his body leak liquified tissue, melting the outer layer of skin. “I think your visit here is over-welcomed, Molech.”

Helel’s voice turns dark, with a clenched jaw, he continues to burn the demon from the inside out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you very shortly, and I’ll deal with you then. Be ready…” he narrows his eyes and brings the center face of the demon closer, his lips nearly touching the demon's chin. Smirking, Helel slides the tip of his nose upwards, forcing the demon to look him directly in the eye, all the while he whispers…

“I am going to split you open with my claws—piss on your organs, feed you to those miserable shits at the River Styx, watch as they shit you out, and scatter your remains across the depths of MY Hell. You’ll be nothing but fertilizer for my wife’s pretty little poppy garden, and she will smile every waking moment upon watching them grow from your own demise.”

With the last of Molech’s breath, he extends his middle claw, flicking off his own former master as he shamelessly words out “fuck you.”

Helel only grins in amusement, further aggravating the demon. Whispering, Heeeseung—or Helel, responds back one final time before finishing off the demon. “Nah…nobody fucks with the Devil—except her.” He glances over to his one and only, his own y/n. “She fucks me all the time, sometimes with tears staining her face and her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. She loves fucking with the Devil…” shifting another look over, he directs his tone in bold, over to his wife. “Ain’t that right baby?”

His wife settles a submissive display of affection and obedience as she quietly nods. “Yeah…you fucking love me. And I fucking love the Hell outta you.” His eyes widen entirely too ecstatically as his pupils shrink. Of all the moments you witnessed Heeseung’s most terrifying expressions, nothing surpassed the one his devilish alternate. It was the most terrifying thing you’ve seen, even more so than the dying demon at his hand.

He releases an antagonizing chuckle as you felt a slight shake within your chest, all due to the way he spoke of his love. He was so twisted, possessive, and dementing, but the love and admiration he showered her was above all sorts of love. It was unreal.

“And you know what else Molech? She will be the one to rule over the demons that will fuck your soul for all eternity. THAT…is what it means to obey your fucking queen.” At that, you all bear witness as Helel finishes Molech off.

But things were far from over, the remaining demons and angels who retaliated against their respective masters remained loyal to their desires, despite Molech being gone, and said former master currently present. Despite witnessing Helel kill off their only leadership, they were stubborn enough to follow through, until death stopped them.

“What’s next?” One of the Heeseung twins spoke, gripping his weapon.

“Take the girls and run. Keep going until you reach the end of the bridge.” Helel calmly instructs, eyeballing the swarm that was closing in. “And you?” One of the other Heeseung’s spoke, inquiring Helel’s role during the escape.

“Heh.” With a smirk and the narrowing of his dark eyes, he extends his wings out as he flares off a hand, claws extending and growing in an offensive length before your very own eyes. “It’s time for me to tuck the kids in, and say goodnight.” Leaving no room for response, his super speed causes a mirage of his movements as he levitates up, and like a sparrow, dives down as he takes out numerous demons and angels at once. In doing so, he creates an open path for everyone to escape.

“Let’s go!” Your Heeseung yells out as he grabs on to the dark forest haired y/n, and quickly leads the way. With all the other Heeseung’s following suit, they latch on to each and every single one of you. The purple haired y/n holds onto your hand as she is being led by the blue haired Heeseung.

“Watch out!” The fair one screams, watching as a group of demons head directly towards your direction.

In an instant, they abruptly pause as they reach within one arm's distance. A soothing tune echoes in the air; a semi high pitch voice that reminded you of bells, it sings and creates a euphoric atmosphere. The demons struggle as they try to resist, staggering a myriad of movements before succumbing to the soft sound of mystical and angelic voice.

“Wha-what is that?” The fairer y/n speaks out, when suddenly the blue haired Heeseung tells the boys, “cover your ears and eyes, now!”

You watched as the males covered followed his instruction, patiently waiting for the signal to free their hearing and sight. The one that gave warning stood and provided cover. He didn’t seem so concerned with himself, or so it would appear as he placed no effort in obstructing his vision or hearing. The demons couldn’t resist the soft tone of the woman’s voice, and started to conduct the demands as she spelled out their death sentence.

“Look into my eyes…and hear my voice. Tell me that you love me…” the demons roar in agony as the look of pained lust takes over. “Take out your heart. Rip it from your chests, and present it as a token of your love for me…do it…for meeee.”

Her voice drifts. It was so alluring and other-worldly.

You turned around and bore witness as to who was responsible for the spell-binding act. It was the variant of yourself, the one with the forest green hair. You gasped in magnificence as you saw the transformation of her features darken, becoming seductively bold and eye-catching. Her eyes grew dark, yet glowed. The winged tip lining of her beautiful peepers became more fierce, and her lips grew darker in shade, resembling the color of a Plum. The changed produced a smoldering expression that reeked of every man’s lust and desire. She spoke out terrible things, and yet, each demon did as she bids, meeting a demise by their own hand.

Her counterpart smirks, gazing over to his darling as her expression slowly goes back to its original state. “Siren.” He winked over as he breathed out the name of her lineage.

With a faint smile of her own, she returns the look by flaring a cool attitude out of jest. “Adam.”

Everyone continues on the path as you all make way onto the high bridge, beginning the cross. Up ahead, a swarm of angels swing down, resting near the end of the bridge and form a metallic barricade. They mutate their limbs into active mechanical saws with rotating blades, and unbeknownst to the lot of you, this was a familiar sight for one particular y/n.

“Get behind me.” She tells everyone, and you watch as the Devil’s wife shows you her immortality, and extends her own beautiful wings. “Y-y/n! You have wings!” You and the girls exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by the remarkable sight of the pearlescent white feathers, a stark contrast from her husbands. Barely hidden in the undercarriage of one wing, a small spot resting closest to her body, were black feathers. A part of him.

Extending her angelic feathers, she takes flight just like her husband, and gains unbelievable height before swooping down, taking out the entire offensive line of the angels. Split cleanly in half, they lay restlessly as their limbs twitch and mouths screeched out their dying pains.

The group continues to run, with every alternate variation of you and Heeseung joining hands and intermingling.

A sudden jolt yanks you back, causing you to yelp out in pain. It pulls you back, tearing you from the others.

“Shit!” Heethan breathes out in ultimate fear as a lonesome demon begins to crawl over you. Its tongue glides over your skin, preparing to digest your face when in a blink of an eye, the demon is suspended in the air, and thrown off the bridge. Helel swoops to your side, extending a hand; you take it, joining palms. Feeling your grip, he lifts away and carries you off in flight to rejoin the others.

“Let’s go.” The eldest y/n urges once they witness you safe, much to Heeseung's delight. He swore he felt his heart explode for a second, but redemption came at its finest upon seeing you safe, once again. Guess he has the Devil to thank for that.

Your body reaches unbelievable height as Helel holds you by the waist, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You made the mistake of looking down and felt the hopeless sensation of dangling high above, seeing the group as microscopic figures as they make their way to the end of the bridge. Your grip tightens and by doing so, you pull yourself closer to the former archangel.

“Hmph…” he smirks against your cheek, inhaling your sweet scent as you slowly turn to face him. Staring at him with a wide and an innocent gaze, he reaches up and moves a piece of hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Pretty little thing, you have nothing to fear…”

He leans in closer, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he pulls you even closer. His nose meets with yours, and his lips brush against your skin. He looks so much like Heeseung—your Heeseung. Like him, there was a mixture of kindness and malice, producing love and contentment. Whispering against your lips he finishes…

“Whether it be you, or the others like her, I’ll never let any part of my y/n to fall.”

His wings cave in, cradling you to his chest. He places a soft and gentle kiss on your lips, progressing into one that reaches certain depths from inside your mouth. His tongue feeds through and unlike his cold skin, it was warm. You openly invited him to explore further as you couldn’t resist this version of your beloved. He was so powerful, and out of this world, you just had to gain a taste, and prayed that your own Heeseung would never find out what was happening in the sky above.

His hand reaches the back of your neck, pulling you in as he deepens the kiss. He pulls slightly back, much to your dismay, and takes in the sight of your expression. It was full of lust and desire; you stared back with heavy lids and a soft pant escaping. He smirks before licking your bottom lip, and places a smaller peck on your nose. “Good girl.” He whispers, before tightening his embrace, and taking flight— merging you with the others.

Reaching ground, he gently places you down and watches as you run over to your fiance, who embraced you with every ounce of his own life. “Fuck, I was scared I lost you for a second. Are you okay baby?” His voice was hoarse as he ran out of breath from merely speaking. The choke of his emotions got the better of him as he sensationally savored the feeling of your bodies uniting.

He looks at you with relieved eyes. You tearfully nod and embraced him. The others did the same as they rejoined with their respective partners.

Slowly walking over to Helel, the eldest y/n comes within reach. She raises a hand and delicately moves pieces of his hair away from brow and eye. He smirks down at her, and takes her long strands in palm, rubbing them between his claws. Taking in every bit of her presence, he nearly loses himself at the face that took his breath away. Fuck, she was so breathtaking to him.

“Thank you…for saving me and the others.” She whispers out, widening her stare as she rests her hands on his chest. He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I don’t know what I would ever do if I didn’t have you.” He admits, and for the first time ever, she witnesses a side of the devil she never thought she’d see. His look was that of slight guilt, relief, and sadness. He looked down at the ground for a moment, realizing that had he been late, he would have lost the only thing that mattered to him. Meeting her gaze, he leans in with a calmed look in his eye.

In this very moment, y/n felt herself falling for her husband like never before. After bearing Helan, living in Hell, and sustaining his harsh treatments, she finally understood him as a man and husband. Oh, how the tables have turned in his favor.

“My son needs his mother…and I need my queen.” He whispers, before granting a small and tender kiss. Taking her hand, he raises it to chin level, tilting his face as his eyes remain glued to her face. Lavishing her hand, he rolls tongue and cheek across the smoothness of her skin, delicately placing a trail of kisses down to her wrist. Tears begin to form in her eyes. It’s true what they say in Heaven and Hell, the Devil truly loved his wife. His y/n.

A rumbling sound emerges from afar and you all witness as many more demons and angels emerge from inside the cathedral. They run over, crossing the bridge as they head in the groups direction. With the exception of Helel and his y/n, who had the gift of flight, everyone was at a disadvantage of being forced to run on foot, but with speed that was nothing compared to the inhuman entities making their way over.

“We gotta hide or something. They’ll catch us.” The purple haired y/n exclaims while her own Heeseung holds onto her, cooing her as he kisses her forehead.

“No need.” Helel calmly projects. Everyone looked in his direction with a relieved sigh, does he have a plan? “What will you do?” His own bride inquires flirtatiously as she gets a sense of a trick up her husband's sleeve. He smirks as he tells her. “What we do best.” He snaps his finger and instantly, six other figures appear from the sky, shattering the atmosphere as their sudden appearance creates a series of Sonic Booms. One right after another, they dive bombed the bridge, wiping out the army of demons and angels in seconds. With dark feathered wings, and inhuman strength, their lack in numbers could not fool anyone. The angels were no match even when conducting aerial movements. Each dark prince maneuvered the sky and shattered any who tried to escape. It was as if you were watching jets chasing after one another.

They swoon closer, joining the group at the end of the bridge. “The kids are misbehaving I see.” One of them spoke, a young man who had dark hair with wispy silver highlights. His foot reaches the ground as he collapses his wings, leaving them to remain perched in an arch at rest. He was adorned with gold and jewels that had to be worth more than what the world could offer. Joining him was one of the others, who had blonde hair slicked back, and bright blue eyes. A lip ring decorated his bottom lip, and he shared the same aura as the other.

“These little brats…what’s their problem this time? Are they pissed off at us or what?” Seemingly fed up with the offensive entities, he sighs out as the one adorned with jewels responds.

“Eh…Same shit, different day. Don’t know about the angels, but our guys are in need of a spanking…probably need to be grounded.”

The blonde haired angel-figure shoots a glance over to the forest haired y/n. “Huh…first time I’ve ever seen a Siren.”

The Heeseung who held on to her waist tucks her into his chest; he glares over to the blonde male. “Fuck off.” Was all he calmly stated before widening his eyes psychotically.

The blonde male smirks, appearing to do no harm. “Relax. I’m not going to take away your little mermaid.” He switched his gaze back to her. “You and I come from the same waters, Daughter of the Seven Seas. It would appear that your generation is much more tamed than that of your early mothers.” He smirks as he looks back at the one holding her. “An Adam…great distant son of an ancient God. Despite the identical face you display to that of my elder brother, you and I are more alike than anything else.”

Heedam softens his gaze to that of an annoyed glare. “I don’t really care, blondie.”

Jake smirks out a small laugh. “No, I guess you don’t. But it’s all good…” flickering his snake like tongue, he gently coos. “Just tell your sisters, should you ever see them, to be wary of the snake. I tend to look for them from time to time.”

The dark green haired y/n projects a perturbed brow. “You mean…the other sirens? What would you do if you ever found them?”

He winks. “I’d eat them—metaphorically speaking, of course.” He gives off a last smirk before turning his back to the couple. “Snakes need to eat too, you know?”

The two males take flight to rejoin their brothers in air, while Helel remains with you all. After some moments went by, you and the girls inquired on how the boys managed to find you.

“This guy.” One of the twins smirked as he thumb pointed over to Helel. “Got us together after he found out what was happening, and helped us get here before taking off to get his brothers.”

“How did you find out?” The eldest raised a brow as she peeked up to view her husband's face. He smirks as his chin touches her nose. “After the raid and your kidnapping, that little fuck-Molech left no leads. So I had to reach out to an old friend…”

“Who?” One of the y/n’s spoke curiously. The eldest y/n already knew…

“Him?” She spoke in a whisper. He slightly nods in return. You all pieced together whom they were referring to as the subtle hint gave off the showering expression of respect and peace on the Devil’s face.

God.

Not much was divided afterwards. In fact, after Helel explained how he forcefully opened the space and time continuums in each galactic dimension to retrieve the alternate versions of his own soul, and unite them with the plan to bring you all back, things went silent right after.

Reopening those entrances once more, Helel guided each pairing back to their own worlds, and everything was back to normal, other than the major publicity that stirred from the event. Mentions of angels and demons raising the sky, and an apocalyptic end, was all the media could speak of.

………

A few weeks have passed. Schools were shut down for a while due to the incident, and everyone was left to continue their education via online, which Heeseung absolutely loved. Having you in his dorm twenty-four-seven was something that he could get used to…maybe already has.

You lay in bed partially dressed. It was nice to not have to worry about figuring what to wear. Since assignments were assigned and completed on your own schedule, you opted to be lazy as Heeseung went down the store to grab your favorite snacks. All for being such a good girl, and staying by his side.

With only a crop top and a pair of panties on, you embraced the warmth of summer air hitting your skin. Besides, your man loved seeing you nearly nude more than anything else.

The door opens, and you see him walk in. In his traditional and fashionable manner, his hat covers his eyes and the upper bridge of his nose, which complimented the street style he wore. A long shirt with the sleeves partially rolled and straight jeans. So casual yet so appealing, or perhaps it was just him and how he could pull it off so well.

“That was quick.” You quirked as you sit up over the edge of the bedding and sipped on your water bottle.

“I don’t like being away from you for too long.” He spoke out with a deep tone. His bedroom voice.

He didn’t waste any time. He held onto your waist and pulls you up. Catching you by surprise, he dipped down to loop his hands around your thighs, before fully extending you up in the air. Your thighs straddle him as you stabilize yourself, he was so strong. Lifting you like a feather, he buries his face into your neck as your head rests on top of his hat. “Heeseung…”

“Mmhmm…” he mumbles with his mouth filled with your tender skin. He didn’t say much more after, instead, he hooks your panties and pushes them to the side. Up and over your derrière, his forearm rested against the surface of your rear cheeks while he lined himself to your center. It’s to be expected, you both didn’t have sex this morning due to the zoom conference for one of your classes. So of course, now that all of that was done, he could finally have his moment with you.

He slides right in, and it was a familiar feeling that seemed all too new. He stuffs you. Fills you. Pumps into you. It was an incredible feeling that reminded you just how much you loved to get fucked by this man.

His lips remained latched on to your neck. “Fuck.” He whispers. “Mmmph! Heeseung!” You gasped as he picks up the pace and bounces you atop his throbbing cock, holding your under-thighs as leverage whenever he lifted and stabilized your momentum.

He kept going on and on. Your mind was blown away as always; you didn’t even feel present in his room. Everything just took you away as you felt your gut being filled by that hard muscle. Separating your walls and pushing in, he thrusts in a motion that was passionately rough and sensually brutal. It was almost like dancing—it had rhythm and harmony as you both shared juices of love and lust.

You screamed out as you come undone. Splattering your fluids everywhere, he keeps his thrusts going as he goes in harder, faster, and deeper. Right as you reach your second orgasm, he joins in and you both cum in unison.

He gently places you back down on the bed, lovingly. Kissing your entire body, he coolly shushes you after noting your gasping pants for air, and the beads of sweat that coated your skin. “Shhh-sh-sh-sh. Breathe baby, that’s it…thaaaaaats it.”

Once you finally got your breathing stabilized, he kisses your forehead and whispers “good girl.”

Something smacks your senses as you immediately took note of the off-putting manner in the way he whispered his tone. Of course he’s said it many times before but this…this was all too familiar in an unfamiliar way. It was…it was…

He stands upright, you hear the unfolding flaps of the black feathered wings extending past the street attire he donned.

“Oh my God…”

He smirks. “Close…but not quite sweetheart.” With a devilish grin, he leans down and places a sudden peck on your lips, causing you to enhance your already shocked expression. “The Devil is here.”

He kisses you once more before turning away. A slit in the gravitational force of the air appears, and walking in was Heeseung dressed in formal black, Victorian wear. The one who donned his wings, Helel, spoke first.

“Had fun?”

Heeseung—your Heeseung, spoke back in jest. A certain level of verbal jousting that took place between the two as they remained swapped in their attire. “Hope you enjoy my work.” Your Heeseung spoke, flashing his Ethan persona as he smirks towards his devil counterpart.

“I’ll leave you my review. If I’m not satisfied, I will be returning.” He dashed a wink over to you, as your Heeseung responds back. “No returns.”

Helel crosses his arms, and grins. “I won’t be asking for a return, more like a freebie.”

Heeseung smirks back as he too, crosses his arms. Both men square off, chest to chest at a one arms distance. “Against my policy. It’s buy one, and get one free. And gimme back my hat.” He snags the cap off from Helel’s head, the latter merely remained undeterred and blinked as he leans his head slightly back, watching as his own counterpart places the hat on his own head.

“Hmph…what atrocity.” Noting his Victorian cloth tainted by the modern piece that your Heeseung displayed, Helel lightly snarled in disgust. “If anyone is going to square off with the Devil…I guess it would be my own damn self, even if you are worlds apart. Too bad I always win.”

He remarks amusingly before exiting, but not without waving back to you as he peeked over the edge of his wing. “See you later, y/n. Try not to spill.” He denotes as he points at the seeping fluid spilling out in between your legs. Heeseung’s brow irked at the symbolic jab.

“Helel…” he calls out right as the devil began to step into the opening.

Raising a brow, Helel looks over to his alternate face. “Say hi to the wife and kids for me.”

Helel’s eyes widen just slightly, expressing a hint of confusion. “Kids?”

Heeseung smirks. “Yeah…kids. A lot of them. Figured your boy could use some siblings.”

Both men stand wide-eyed, smiling sinisterly. They looked as if they were going to kill each other. “Huh…it would be you to show up the devil. I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He steps forward, and with that, the devil takes his leave.

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chigirizzz · 2 years ago

Text

ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK — I. SAE

warnings/tags: angst, hurt/a little bit of comfort, gn! reader, descriptions of physical symptoms of anxiety, ooc sae??, not proofread

summary: love is confusing. a part of you knows sae loved you; another part of you makes you question that. if both parts can't coexist, was your relationship worth fighting for?

wc: 2.3k

notes: this one was difficult to write man. i literally rewrote almost every paragraph dozens of times until i thought this entire thing was worth of being posted. while writing this i was literally biting my own fist out of frustration lmao.

»»——⍟——««

being a professional football player for sure brings a lot of things in your life: fame, money, awards, fans, haters, sponsors, you name it. but one thing that no one ever seems to talk about is the painful feeling inside someone’s entire body when under the extreme pressure—the shortness of breath, the rapid beating of the heart, the big knot on the throat, the tightening of the stomach, the burning sensation in the eyes due to increased blood circulation, and so on.

sae was used to those feelings. it was part of his life as an athlete—it was part of his life ever since he was a young boy, like when he had to get ready to leave his home country to live in another one, practically alone, without his family. for days, young itoshi sae felt in panic, nauseous and was disturbed by severe headaches.

it’s funny how emotions can make you physically sick, right?

of course, anyone can feel like this—it's completely normal and it’s what makes us humans. for a singer, those symptoms of sickness might happen mostly on the stage; for a baker, those nerves might happen mostly when getting ready the perfect wedding cake; for a writer, that anxiety might happen mostly when publishing a book, afraid of what people will think of it and if it will sell well.

for football players, those sensations are, most of the time, absorbed by their bodies and minds the moment they step on the field.

sae falls into this category.

then, at the end of the day, people can still live through situations that make them feel anxious outside of their professions—perhaps they have to get ready for a date; perhaps they got lost and can't find the right path to go home.

sae does not fall into this category. he is a rational man who avoids people and feelings not related to his career. he always knows what to do and what not to do.

but today, today is different. today sae itoshi is in the second category, and he might be stuck in there for a while, who knows.

sitting on the edge of the bed you both share, he inhales deeply as his hands make their way to grab said edges. the soft material of the bedspread under his fingers helped him cool down a little bit. so soft ♡. he exhaled after holding his breath for a few seconds.

he could hear your sobs.

you were sitting on the comfy sofa placed in the small, elegant balcony connected to your shared bedroom. although the curtains were blocking the outside view, the chilly, cold wind of the night would constantly move the brownish pink curtains to give the man the perfect—and heartbroken—sight of your figure in a curled up position, crying, with no sign of stopping so soon.

(brownish pink curtains… you wanted to buy those because it reminded you of sae's hair. of your boyfriend's hair. he could still hear your laugh when you suggested buying those.)

you too were in a psychological and physical distress; you too were in the second category—the difference, however, was that you have been in that same category for a while; meanwhile sae has only entered it today.

sae didn’t like the feeling of his sunken heart, of the big knot on his throat and of the tightening of his stomach’s walls when looking at you so miserable like that. and the worst part? he was the reason you were in that state.

in case you didn't understand yet, my dear reader, itoshi sae broke your heart once again and now your relationship is at a great risk of ending. by saying that sae has officially entered the "second category", we get the idea that said man is now anxious, scared, and physically sick with the thought of losing you—the anxiety that he only felt on the field and never in his personal life? he's feeling it right now.

and it’s only now that he understands how much he disappointed you ever since you two started dating. he remembers it all now: how he didn’t show any interest in your thoughts and hobbies (which is not true, he was just devoid of emotions but it still hurt you), how cold his responses could get, how he never denied that his career was the number one priority, the dry messages he sent you when you were excited, how mean he could be to other people even if you’d tell him how much you hated that attitude of his, how he would just gave you a gift after a fight instead of properly apologizing, how he stood up on you several times on a restaurant, all ready for him to arrive for your date, only to not appear because he preferred to stay late at practice and ended up forgetting the plans you both made…

the true—although not surprising at all—is, the oldest itoshi wasn’t good with feelings; he knew what to do and what not to do during matches, but when it came to human beings, he didn’t have an idea of what he should do or what to say—and let’s be honest, he didn't care about it either. sae did love you, though. the way he looks at you proves it; the marks he would leave on your body during nights so full of lust and romance that would be capable of shedding emotional tears from aphrodite’s eyes proved it; the way he'd roll his eyes and proceed to place soft kisses on your fingers when you complained of the water being too hot after finishing washing the dishes proved it.

the engagement ring he bought for you that is hidden in a safe place where you couldn’t find it proved it.

and now there might not be a day where he could put the ring around your finger and watch you giggle like a teenager in love.

his heart weighs heavier now, almost like it’s getting ready to be swallowed by the black hole formed on his stomach. fuck. he passes his hand through his reddish brown hair, tugging a few strands.

he got out of the bed and made his way to the door of the small balcony. there you were, still in a curled up position. your sobs have stopped already but a sniff or two could be heard.

“talk to me.” the genius didn’t know exactly what his tone was. tiredness? begging? regret? i-don’t-care-at-all-stop-acting-like-this? this man sure was confusing. there was no response, the only thing that could be heard were the sounds of the leaves of the trees moving with the wind, almost mocking, not sae, but you.

the way you rolled your eyes was unknown to him.

“seriously, y/n. head inside so we can talk—”

“fuck you, itoshi, leave me alone.” your intention wasn’t to be mean to him, you didn't think before speaking—it hurt both you and him—, but sometimes harsh words were better in specific times. this is a specific time, you should have shared your thoughts a long time ago. “you wanna talk now? you usually just buy me roses without saying anything.”

“i’m trying to fix things up.”

you turned your head to look at him, a sad smile on your lips. “and i appreciate it, really, but i’m just so fucking tired, sae.” your voice broke on the word “tired”. “and you just want to talk now because i said i was thinking of breaking up with you during our fight earlier? why, sae, why…” more tears were threatening to fall, voice still breaking.

teal colored eyes darkened. you were now looking at the view in front of you. you guys lived in a really peaceful neighborhood with big, expensive houses. the view was nothing special (a few trees, a few parked cars, a park near you), but it wasn't bad either. it's not like the view mattered as long as you lived with the love of your life.

even if said love of your life could sometimes be difficult to put up with.

you remember when you started dating him and met his younger brother, who had the audacity to say with a serious face that you would regret dating your boyfriend. although you now understand the point rin was trying to make, you didn't regret being with sae; you didn't regret anything at all. and if you were to be honest, you wanted to ignore the fight and just spend the night watching a movie or something, but you had to act like a mature adult and find a better solution.

were you, though, being a mature adult by giving that response to sae when he said he wanted to talk? you were genuinely confused.

sighting and while wiping your tears, you patted the uncopied place of the sofa beside you. "ok, let's talk. sit." the man did what you told and you moved away a few centimeters to give him more space. it was… silence. a mix of comfortable and uncomfortable silence.

without looking at you, sae rested his hand on top of yours, causing you to flinch a little by surprise, but paid no mind and let him interlock his fingers with yours, your thumb now caressing his pinky finger.

"what… what do you want to say?"

"were you telling the truth earlier?"

"about me breaking up with you?" a "mhm" was his answer. "yes, i was ." by the corner of your eye you noticed he stared at you after those words. your mind couldn't decipher what his thoughts were. "i don't like being stood up on a date two times in the same month, y'know?"

the man sighted. "i was busy with practice. and i literally warned you at a good time, you just got to the place too early."

you let out a chuckle in an ironic way. "you did warn me, yes, and i wouldn't mind if it was once or twice, but enough is enough, itoshi." it was the second time of the night—scratch that, it was the second time in your entire life that you called him by his surname. even when you were only friends, you would call him by his first name or by cute, silly nicknames. the second time the word itoshi came out of your mouth, it was full of venom; venom that seemed to wrap so tightly around his heart. "i know your career is extremely important to you. i understand that and i want to support you in any way, shape and form, however, things can't keep going like this."

"i see." the reddish brown haired man looked at both your hands still together. you didn't let go of him, you didn't want to and he didn't want it either. “i understand.”

he should say something more. something more profound, more romantic, capable of making you stay, but what can the prodigy do about it? sure, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want you to stay with him, but the decision was yours and he had to take it, whether he liked it or not; whether it’d left him heartbroken or not. besides, he now understands just how much he confused you with his true feelings. you both were tired of the constant kiss and make up.

just how sae could be an egoistic on the field, he could be also one on his private life (just ask literally anybody and they will confirm).

you let go of his fingers to turn your arm so that your palm was facing upwards, in contact with his, and you interlock your fingers again. “it’s not easy for me but… i feel like it’s the best choice.”

you spent a few seconds looking into each other's eyes, until sae leaned his forehead against yours and you did the same, with your eyes closed and enjoying the cold night breeze hitting your bodies, the breeze contrasting with the bittersweet heat formed in your hearts.

“so… is it decided…”

“yes… it is.” you were glad that he respected your decision and that you discussed the matter without further discussion. “i’ll still pack my things today. in the morning i’ll call a friend and ask them to stay at their house for a few days. then i’ll see how it goes.”

“hm.”

he offered to help you pack your bags, but you refused—him helping you would only make you more emotional and rethink your decision. that night, you and your now ex-boyfriend slept on the same bed, back to back.

»»——⍟——««

"hey,” it was now the next morning and you had just gotten ready to leave the house. sae called you before you had a chance to get out the door. “do not hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

a smile formed on your lips. now that you were changing your path in life, it seemed that you just lost a heavy weight on your shoulders. sae didn't like that, but again, he was in no position to make you stay. “ thank you sae, really. the same goes for you, though. and don’t overwork yourself.”

those words and the little chuckle that followed hurt sae like a bitch. you always told him to not work himself till exhaustion, yet he always ignored you…

“well… goodbye, itoshi.” before he’d answer, you stepped out of the door, closing it behind you.

as the sound of the engine of your friend’s car starting up reached his ears, he made his way to the bedroom, to reach out for the engagement ring he bought for you. he layed on the bed, hugging the tiny ring’s box, hot tears running silently down his cheeks to the pillow.

you were gone. you were officially gone.

»»——⍟——««

tagging: @izzylovestnbhd

thank you for reading. likes, reblogs and coments are appreciated ♡

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock angst #bllk angst #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae angst #blue lock x you

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ronearoundblindly · 9 months ago

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For my favorite Steve 🥰💙🖤 (Fools Rush In)

29. Describe their nighttime routine.

30. What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Questions are from this ask game and about this post-Endgame AU with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

There's no TV in your shared apartment because there are so, so many monitors on the compound. Steve likes some peace and quiet, to listen to records or the radio, or simply to read. Nighttime offers less drawing inspiration than daylight outdoors, but occasionally he'll putter with some sketching. That's harder to do while sitting right beside you on the couch, or while you lay with your head in his lap (and vice versa). Even if Steve reads, he has one hand on you, resting. In fact, he particularly enjoys books on tape because you two can snuggle and just relax.

This is your time to chat about the day, too, but since not everyday is very exciting, being present is enough.

All that is done in the living room because Steve is a bit of a purist in what you do where. Eat at the table. Relax on the couch. Sleep in the bed. Do not eat in the bed; that's not what it's for. Weird old fart...

It's fine to get sleepy on the couch, but it's very rare to stay asleep there all night.

For the most part, bedtime routines in the bathroom are separate. There's a His & Her's sink in the master bath, so if that's all anyone needs, you brush teeth and wash face side-by-side.

Steve starts out laying on his back with you curled up against his chest and hip. He does progressive relaxation to force his muscles to release tension from the day. He's so bulky now that this is crucial. It helps elongate his spine so when he does turn over to spoon you, Steve is properly gelatinous to mold around the back of your body.

Sometimes, if Steve can tell you're not asleep yet, he'll start humming your song, and he enjoys that he can hear your smile when you chuckle and wiggle deeper into his hold.

He runs hot, so Steve prefers a fan on in the bedroom which serves as low, white noise. He doesn't mind if you need a thicker blanket, however, he just mostly likes the air circulation.

If it's not obvious from Steve's nighttime routine, his love language is quality time. He appreciates the quiet moments you spend with him more than most celebrations. Time is precious to Steve Rogers. He understands its value. You giving him your time means everything.

(Not trying to make assumptions about every reader's love language, but I'm gonna wing it for Keeps.)

You thrive on words of affirmation, and Steve becomes better and better at communicating. He starts out so guarded because of the life he leads: his job is acts of service, he doesn't experience physical touch like other, he's...sorta terrible at gift giving, and Steve is being watched and listened to constantly. He's leery of everyone and everything. F.R.I.D.A.Y's everywhere--worse than J.A.R.V.I.S was--which takes a lot of getting used to.

He gets better, though. Steve has had to get comfortable with a lot of new-to-him behaviors. Not that he wouldn't have been nice and communicative with a girlfriend in the '40s, but he never had a girlfriend before. He's had zero practice, and at first, he's very awkward. Eventually, the words come easily, albeit always softly in public. He hates the idea of anyone else being in your relationship. They're there anyway.

Fools's Steve says "I love you" to you often, but the words have about three thousand variations of intonation and subtext, from playful to pissy. If you aren't alone, it's usually whispered.

Other than that, Steve not only tells you how lovely you look--even when you don't feel beautiful--but annoyingly and obviously means it every single time. You can see it in his eyes and his body language. It took a while to accept that he truly loves you and finds you beautiful. Your mind fought against accepting that. You were convinced by his every hesitation that it meant he couldn't possibly love you, but that wasn't true. That's not what was going on.

Steve took a while to sift through his feelings and hangups, but the question was never whether he loved you or was attracted to you. He worried whether or not he could be the partner he wanted to be to the right person.

Technically...Steve???? This one's a little complicated.

You get truly angry only after something has been stewing for a long time. Consistent, tiny annoyances or frustrating behaviors eventually boil to the surface in infrequent rages.

Steve, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber until the most random, damndest things just 🫰🏼set him off. He's a cheeky bastard when his feathers are rumpled the wrong way. It's odd and totally hilarious.

He spends so much time as Cap letting everything just roll off his back like a duck in water. He has to go with the flow. He can only control himself and what he does in the future. He gives orders, yes, but humans err; Steve understands that maybe nothing he plans will go correctly. He's prepared for that.

But...what Steve isn't prepared for is people putting a vinyl record in the wrong dust jacket with no indication as to where the correct one will be. What kind of imbecile-- He can't stand his to-go order being totally opposite what it's supposed to be because seriously he didn't even make any substitutions! And absolutely hysterically, he can't handle there not being a 'wet floor' sign when the very shiny floors happen to be very slippery.

For a big man, Steve falls hard.

He got some great height though... Spun nearly 200 degrees mid-air before flopping the landing and bouncing against the far wall. Spectacularly funny when you know he isn't hurt. It's not even a pride or ego ding for Steve; he's simply furious that someone not-him could have been the one to slip.

So yeah, technically Steve has the quicker temper, but his anger lasts less time than yours.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg

@georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain

#ro answers #ask game #fools rush in series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

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hypewinter · 2 years ago

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Can I offer you another Danny POV in these trying times?

It had started after his encounter with the costumed people. After that his dad had taken him to the store and bought a lot of strange items. From there, he put the strange items together and put them up all around the house. Ever since then, Danny couldn't go through the walls.

Danny pushed against the wall now but he couldn't go through just like all his other past attempts. But if he couldn't go through, how would he play tag with his dad!? Fat tears bubbled up in his eyes as he tried to desperately push through the wall. He liked playing with his dad! It was the best part of the day.

Tears began to fall freely down his cheeks and he let out a whimper as he tried phasing through the floor this time to no avail. Suddenly big hands scooped him up.

Jack tried to soothe his son but Danny was not listening to his assurances that "this was to protect him" and "it was for the best". He was too busy crying while glaring at the strange items covering it. If only they weren't there.

--------

Danny woke up to voices outside his room. One was his dad's but the other was female. He tensed up in fear, remembering the last female voice he encountered, but this one was different. It was younger and for some reason, hearing it filled him with warmth.

"Now's not the time for that Dad." The female voice said.

"No, I won't have my princess sacrificing her education." Replied his dad.

Danny wondered what they were talking about. He was also curious about who the owner of this new voice was. She had called his dad , her dad. Did that mean they were related. That would make them siblings right? He had a sister?

Suddenly a thought came from deep within his mind. Of course I have a sister, her name is Jazz. But his moment of clarity was gone just as soon as it had overtaken him. Danny was left wondering who is Jazz? as he drifted back to sleep.

--------

Jazz as it turned out was his red-headed sister. And although she always wore a smile around him, it was always tinted with sadness. Danny couldn't help but wonder why.

Everything was going great so there was no reason to be sad. Jazz had now moved in, all the neighbors were constantly cooing at him and giving him treats, and Jack had gotten a job with some red person. Wait, did he get hired by Little Red Riding Hood? Maybe she needed a new hunter to help her fight the wolf.

At that thought, Danny couldn't help but look at his father in awe. Every evening when he left, Danny silently hoped he'd catch a lot of bad wolves.

--------

It took a couple of weeks for Danny to find out that while his dad worked for a Red Hood, it was very disappointingly not Red Riding Hood. Instead it was some guy with a white streak in his hair with some very disgusting ectoplasm circulating his body.

Danny made a face and turned into his sister's hold as he came face to face with the guy at the doorway.

"I'm sorry about that." she said to the guy, "He's not usually like this."

"It's ok, babies usually cry in front of me so this is an improvement." he replied.

"Come on Matt, Jason's really nice if you give him a chance!" His father proclaimed. His trademark loudness making the doorframe shudder.

That was the other thing Danny didn't like about this red guy. He had already seen him twice before, when his Dad had taken him in to grab a few forgotten tools.

The first time the guy wore a red helmet. Everyone acted like he was dangerous and shouldn't be messed with. Even his dad was very respectful in his interactions with him.

The second time Danny had seen not Red Riding Hood, he didn't have his helmet on nor did he go by his previous name. Everyone at the garage treated him as if he was one of their own instead of the dominating presence he had been before. In fact, they acted as if "Jason" was a completely different person all together. It was quite strange to say the least. Though Danny wasn't sure he had a leg to stand on considering every time they were in public, his dad would call him "Matt".

Danny had fussed about it a few times but that didn't seem to have any effect. He had finally decided it was fine since he was at least still called "Danny" and "Danno" when they were home. Now though, thanks to this Jason guy, he was even being called that stupid name within his own house! Danny was quickly deciding he didn't like this weird bad ectoplasm guy at all.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @overtherose @seraphinedemort

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #no tag ramble today folks!#currently in the process of getting everything ready to put on ao3 #so hopefully that's coming soon!#we'll see if my schedule likes me enough to cooperate

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squarebracketsmileyface · 1 month ago

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Answering this ask FOUGHT ME I swear to god. First I hit post before I was done writing and hadn't added tags or anything because it was just sitting in my drafts, and then when I rewrite it and went to save what I'd done TUMBLR FUCKING DELETED THE POST. The universe saw me being giddy over getting songs and went "well we can't have that" so now I'm writing it for the THIRD TIME (while my thumb is randomly going numb for some fucking reason lmfao. Like, I'm not cold, circulation's not cut off. It's just slowly losing all sensation 💀)

Anyway, attempt three!!!

Omg yes yes yes :DDDDDDDD okay okay, I won't do the whole lil "going through all the lyrics" thing I sometimes do because if I did this post would be stupidly long, but omg just know I've had these on loop almost constantly since I got this ask. They have all been put in their respective playlists now >:]

Wicked Game by Him has gone in the My Girl playlist, because:

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

This first verse really does feel like Jam to me. Like, they desperately wanna save each other, and the world is kinda on fire around them. And Jay never thought he'd meet someone like Tim let alone being loved by someone like Tim and have to worry about losing someone like Tim. Y'know?

Step On Me by The Cardigans is either going to go in the Tim Safewords playlist, or in the My Girl playlist, and I cannot decide so right now it's in both. I just can't decide if I want it in My Girl for foreshadowing, or in Tim Safewords for when Jay actually pushes too far and hurts Tim by accident. Like, Jays already stood on Tim's foot and Tim carried on anyway because he loves Jay and he really does want to help him and fix him.

I don't even have a specific lyric that made me go "oh yeah this goes in such and such playlist" it's just the whole song I think.

Perfect Girl by The Cure, definitely My Girl, that one's a given, Jark is indeed a strange girl and does need to be shaken and turned upside down.

Psychic Wound by King Woman... I also wanna put this in Tim Safewords BUT ALSO entry 80. I could put it in entry 80's playlist. I could. I so could.

Enslaved by the opinions, under seductive rule

Please rescue me, I've disobeyed and I admit I'm chained to you

Alex. Idk just Alex and the operator. After Alex kills Jay I have him kinda have this awful moment of clarity where he realises what he's done, and he's so overwhelmed by it that he tries to kill himself, but the Operator stops him so it can force him to continue his lil job for it.

Help me, I'm so chained to you

Someone tell me what to do

Feeling like a psychic wound

Like. This is Jaylex. This is Jaylex. In entry 80 neither of them know what to do, they need to be told, and Alex unfortunately has someone there to do it, that 'person' being the operator.

I do like it for Tim Safewords a lot, and Entry 80 is already like 60 songs strong which is far too many so idk where I wanna put it just yet. Another one that'll go in both playlists until I go through them properly again and make up my mind.

Pitch The Baby by Cocteau Twins is in My Girls playlist, I just like how it sounds, it's a fic that lets Jay and Tim have a little time and space to breathe and just enjoy each other, and the song's so pretty and like, floaty? Idk if that's the word I'm looking for, probably not but it's close enough, it's just a really nice feeling song. And like "I only want to love you" I think the lyrics say? Yeah, Tim only wants to love Jay, he just wants to use this lull in the constant, active threat of death to spend time loving on Jay a bit, teaching him how to let himself be loved and all that.

Daydream In Blue by I Monster is almost definitely going in Tim Safewords. It just feels like it fits, I think specifically because of some of what's gonna happen in that fic.

You're crawling on the bathroom floor

You float around the room and you're naked

Then you're flying out the bedroom door

Like, Tim has a bit of a freak out (for good reason) after he has to safeword, and he does end up on the floor in the bathroom, because he needs a moment on his own and that's the only room in his house with its own lock. And sure he doesn't NEED to lock Jay out, but he feels better if he can, so he does kinda, y'know, fly out of the bedroom door when he runs away to hide for a bit until he can get everything in his head under control a bit. And he's dissociating to high hell so he does feel like he's floating, y'know?

I dream a dirty dream of you, baby You're swinging from the chandelier I'm climbing up the walls 'cause I want you But when I reach you, you disappear

This bit also feels like the Tim Safewords fic, but kinda from Jay's pov more? Like, he knows he fucked up and he needs to make it right somehow, he needs to make sure Tim doesn't hate him, doesn't leave him, so even when Tim's hidden himself away somewhere unreachable (both in real life and in his head for... Reasons (mayhaps someone else fronts to handle the situation... Mayhaps someone split specifically to cope with Jay)) and Jay really does feel like he's climbing the goddamn walls to try and get him back, but when he reaches Tim, emotionally, Tim's gone, he's distant and cautious and Jay knows he's ruined it... And then they have to go to Benedict Hall together :D

Gonna pop a little warning here, the last song in here is one I'm gonna use to talk a little more about Jay's consent issues through, in case you don't wanna read that. Specifically it's talking about Jay trying to force Tim to choke him again, even though he knows Tim doesn't want to.

Reptilia by The Strokes... Yeah Tim Safewords, again. Look I can't help myself that fic's gonna be INSANE and everything reminds me of it. It's just... Consent issues, y'know? I love exploring Jay's consent issues, they're so interesting.

I'm literally just putting the lyrics to almost the entire song under this now lmao. Look, I can't help myself, there's not many lyrics and they really do feel like they could be talking about a dubiously consensual (or even a noncon) situation.

I was afraid that you would not insist "You sound so sleepy, just take this, now leave me"

I said, please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast You're in a strange part of our town

Like... Jay feeling like "god please don't take this from me, I need you to be rough with me, don't stop me, don't tell me not to, just let me put your hands on my throat, please" he's hoping Tim will change his mind and say it's fine, hoping Tim'll essentially say "yeah just take what you want" y'know?

Yeah, the night's not over, you're not trying hard enough Our lives are changing lanes, you ran me off the road The wait is over, I'm now taking over You're no longer laughing, I'm not drowning fast enough

'Tims not trying hard enough to care about my feelings about this, why can't he just see this from my perspective, I need him to be rougher with me' type shit. And then 'well maybe he's just scared of doing something I don't want, like he was scared of with trying out the feminisation stuff with me, so if I take over and put his hands there, he'll know it's fine.' and then 'oh fuck. I fucked up. Oh shit he looks fucking scared, he looks like he's sick, shit shit fuck shit fuck What'd I do what's wrong with me what the fuck!?'

Now every time that I look at myself "I thought I told you, this world is not for you" The room is on fire as she's fixing her hair "You sound so angry, just calm down, you found me"

Tim's gonna get to have a go at Jay for it, of course, he needs to make sure it gets through Jay's thick fucking skull that 'hey, you can't fucking do that what the fuck is wrong with you??? The world doesn't fucking revolve around you, did you stop for even a fucking second to think about what I've told about about why I don't want to fucking do that???'

#as a warning #right at the bottom of this post im gonna talk about Jay's consent issues and how those end up effecting Tim in the fic where he safewords #so just yeah. keep that in mind #asks #song ask #song analysis i guess #marble hornets #jay merrick #tim wright #mh jam #alex kralie #mh sorry its locked #fic/series rated e on ao3 #in case anyone would prefer not to read that

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south-of-heaven · 2 years ago

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The best foot warmer || Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest

Summary: Your feet are constantly cold

A/N: This one’s for the bad blood circulation girlies (me)

As the night blankets the room, you snuggle under the covers, seeking warmth and comfort. However, your perpetually cold feet seem to have a mind of their own, refusing to cooperate with the rest of your body. It's a constant source of amusement for Rhea and Damian, particularly the latter, who has become your dedicated foot warmer.

You feel Damian's body heat radiating next to you as he lies down, his arm slipping around your waist. He chuckles softly, his breath tickling your ear. "I don't know how you manage to have such cold feet all the time, love."

Blushing, you wiggle your toes, a shiver coursing through your body. "I can't help it, Damian. They're just always freezing."

Rhea, who is lying on the other side of you, lets out a soft laugh. "You're lucky you have Damian to warm them up for you."

Damian pulls you closer, his hand sliding down to your feet. He gently tucks them between his warm thighs, his legs acting as a personal furnace. Almost instantly, a soothing warmth spreads through your icy toes, melting away the chill.

You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Damian. "You're the best foot warmer, Damian. Thank you for putting up with my freezing feet."

He smiles, his touch remaining gentle and comforting. "Anything for you, love. It's my pleasure to keep you warm, even if it means being your personal foot warmer."

Rhea, ever the playful one, can't resist teasing you. "You two are just too cute. I've never seen someone in such dire need of foot warmth."

You playfully nudge Rhea with your elbow, a soft giggle escaping your lips. "Hey now, I can't help it if my feet have a mind of their own. Besides, it's nice having Damian take care of them."

Rhea grins, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, I know. It's just one of those quirks that make you even more adorable."

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile spreading across your face. "Well, I'm glad you both find it endearing. I certainly appreciate having a personal foot warmer by my side."

As you settle into the warmth of Damian's embrace, his legs continuing to provide comfort to your chilly feet, a sense of tranquility washes over you. You're grateful for the loving bond you share with Rhea and Damian, where even the simplest acts of warmth and care become cherished moments.

In this cozy haven, surrounded by love and laughter, you drift off to sleep, your heart filled with gratitude for the two extraordinary individuals who keep you warm, both inside and out.

#wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe #rhea ripley #rhea x reader #rhea ripley x reader #damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian x reader #damian priest x rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader x damian priest #pro wrestling #priestly

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toporecall · 26 days ago

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Chapter 5. I Think I Might Have Made It Real

New chapter! Wedding dresses, drama, maybe a kiss??

Feyre reached up and let her fingers graze her lips, as if to make sure that had been real. No, no, please no, she thought. But she knew. “Rhys—” she whispered. A plea, an admission.

AO3 or read under the cut

Prev chapters on Tumblr: [1] [2] [3] [4]

The next six weeks passed slowly. Feyre was committed to her solution to be better for Tamlin but it was hard to balance her natural independence with Tamlin’s desire to protect her at all costs, especially when rumors began circulating that Amarantha was already somewhere in Prythian. Tamlin one afternoon found her practicing with her bow and arrow outside and made her come back in as if she was some defenseless puppy.

He was gone more and more, checking in with soldiers and camps and other preparations, leaving Feyre to wander the house and do her best to paint even though everything she made felt hollow. Among all of this was the wedding planning. Ianthe was constantly flitting around with ideas about place settings and guest lists and Feyre’s attire. Feyre found it was easier to largely give in to Ianthe’s ideas and preferences rather than make any insistences based on her own taste. Because, as Ianthe told her again and again, this event was more about the people of Spring Court than it was about Feyre and Tamlin specifically. It was a celebration for all.

As if that wasn’t all enough on it’s own, Feyre had been dreaming more than she ever had in her life. Nearly every night from the moment she shut her eyes to the moment the sun rose, she was spinning through dreams of the night sky, violet eyes, wonderfully bright and airy rooms, hands on her body.

It was a Saturday a couple weeks before Eris’s wedding when Feyre was called in to try on her own wedding dress. Ianthe lead her to one of the infrequently used spare rooms of the manor where a seamstress was already waiting beside a full length mirror. The seamstress was a small woman with a friendly face and soft features. She looked to Feyre like someone who had found their true calling in making beautiful gowns for people.

“Good evening, dear,” she said.

“Good evening,” Feyre returned a soft smile.

Ianthe and Clarice, the seamstress, helped Feyre out of her dayclothes and into the wedding dress—her wedding dress she reminded herself. Feyre gazed out at the lawn and gardens through the open patio door in the room as the women buttoned up the back of her dress. It was another beautiful Spring day: sunny, temperate, ever unchanging.

“Alright, dear, have a look,” said Clarice.

Feyre took a deep breath as quietly as she could, turning to her right to face the full length mirror. Her breath caught in her throat.

She looked…she looked…

“Oh Feyre, you look beautiful!” Ianthe exclaimed.

She wasn’t wrong. Though it was her first time trying on the gown, Clarice had sent an assistant by to take her measurements months ago so the gown already fit near perfectly. It was gorgeous—an a-line gown, sleeveless, with a neckline dipping between her small breasts, tight in the top until it hit her waist where it flared into layers of thin, diaphanous fabric. It looked like a moving spring, a small white waterfall cascading through the forest. It was beautiful but it’s beauty put her on edge. It didn’t match with the bones that had begun to protrude along her shoulders, the shadows under her eyes.

“We can take that in. That’s why we do fittings, after all,” Clarice was saying to Ianthe as Ianthe pinched some of the fabric gapping at her waistline. Feyre hadn’t realized how much weight she’d been losing the past couple of months but it was evident in the way the dress fit her. “What do you think, dear?”

“It’s beautiful,” Feyre replied. “You’ve done amazing work.”

A knock on the door had all three women turning their heads. Tamlin stepped into the room, the first time she’d seen him in days.

“Good evening, ladies. Mind if I have a moment with my betrothed?”

Clarice tutted something about Tamlin not seeing the dress before it was ready but filed out behind Ianthe, closing the door behind them.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait until the wedding day to see this?” Feyre asked, doing her best to sound light and teasing.

“I don’t believe in all that bad luck nonsense. Besides, I just got back and I wanted to see you.” Tamlin crossed the room to stand behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror over her shoulder. He circled an arm around her abdomen and pressed his lips to her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

‘Thank you,” she whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tamlin, I…” She took a shuddering breath before meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I can’t keep living like this.”

Tamlin’s mouth formed a straight line. His fingers tightened around her hip.

“Living like what?”

“Living like this.” She gestured to the walls around her. “Like I’m a porcelain doll, a bird in a cage. I’m going crazy in here. You need to let me explore, let me learn, let me live my life!”

“I’m trying to keep you safe, Feyre. Amarantha is here somewhere. Hybern probably has people everywhere and—”

“I know! I know.” Feyre spun to face him, looking up into his eyes. “But this is no way to live. I’m wasting away, Tamlin.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know what’s out there, what I’m trying to protect you from!” Tamlin was nearly shouting now, one hand gripping her upper arm and the other remaining on her hip.

“I can look out for myself. I have until now.”

“That was different. This is different.” His grip tightened and Feyre fought the urge to wince, to show any signs of weakness. “My whole family has already been taken from me. Everyone I care about in the world except for Lucien has been taken from me. I can’t lose you too.”

She tried to pull her arm from his grasp but he only held more tightly. “You’re losing me anyway.”

The words were out before she could measure the wisdom of saying them.

And then, faster than she could process, there was a rush of power. She heard glass shattering, wood splintering, and she was hurtling across the room before colliding with the wall and landing face first with a thud on the floor.

Feyre couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of her entirely. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, it was hard to kill a fae, but it felt like she was dying. She tried to push herself up on shaking arms, gasping for air against the tightness in her chest. Her ears were ringing, the whole room spinning around her.

“Feyre, I—” Tamlin started before the door burst open and Lucien rushed in. Lucien’s eyes were wild, taking in the details: the shattered mirror and windows, splintered furniture, Feyre on her hands and knees on the floor in a wedding dress.

“Cauldron, what happened?” Lucien exclaimed. “Feyre, are you alright?”

Feyre finally managed to get a gulp of air into her lungs. She sucked air in greedily, the black spots that had speckled her vision starting to clear. She pushed herself up on shaking arms and legs and sprinted out the door. Distantly, she heard someone, Tamlin or Lucien, calling her name behind her but she didn’t turn around.

Feyre wanted to keep sprinting, wanted to run into the forest where she felt at home among the trees, but she was forced to stop after only getting around the corner of the manor. She was too weak, shaking too hard to keep going. Instead, she darted into a high-walled garden just off the side of the house. She pressed herself back against one of the stone walls, letting it hold her weight as she tried to catch her breath.

She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her loud breaths. But she was breathing too fast, too shallow, and then she was sobbing, tears falling from her closed eyes as she pressed herself back into the wall harder, searching for any stability she could find. She vaguely recognized the sensation of pain but couldn’t clear her head enough yet to analyze where it was coming from.

“Feyre?”

Feyre yelped, opening her eyes to see Rhysand standing in the arched entrance to the walled garden. She couldn’t make sense of his presence here—the world was still tilting slightly, adrenaline still too high to think straight—but it was enough to force something inside of her to snap back into place, if only to preserve her dignity.

She forced a slower, albeit still shaky, breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, wiping the tears from her face and standing up straighter.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sniffling.

He ignored her question entirely, taking a few steps toward her. “Feyre, what—what happened?”

She shook her head. “It’s not a good time, Rhysand.”

“Obviously not.” He took another step toward her, just a few feet away now.

Feyre hated the way her heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of him. Even now, here, wearing her wedding dress. He looked a little tired, hair a little more disheveled than usual, but still beautiful in his particular dark, intense way. His violet eyes bored into hers before dipping to scan her, skimming across her body and catching on her dress.

His expression was unreadable. “My invitation must have been lost on the way.”

“Today’s not…I was just trying it on.”

He took the final step, standing just before her. She would barely need to reach out to run her fingers across his chest, along his jawline. She itched to touch him. “Right,” was all he said.

“Why are you here?” she asked again.

“I need to see Tamlin. What happened to you?”

Feyre looked down. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t think clearly enough to come up with a convincing lie. “Tamlin…he—”

She could tell him. She could tell him everything. What Tamlin had just done. That she hadn’t slept with Beron. That she was terrified she was making the wrong decision, or had already made the wrong decision. Maybe he could take her somewhere else.

But he couldn’t. And she wouldn’t.

She looked back up and registered the way Rhysand was clenching his jaw tightly, eyes squeezed shut as if trying to hold himself together. He took a long breath through his nose before finally opening his eyes again and glancing down.

“You’re bleeding,” he said simply.

Feyre looked down as well. She was, indeed, bleeding from a few places. Small slices littered her arms and chest, presumably from splinters of glass and wood. A bruise was forming on her arm where Tamlin had gripped her too tightly. Looking farther down she noticed the hem of her dress reddened from blood as well. It was only then she registered a sharp pain from the bottoms of her feet. She lifted up a foot and saw the bottom of it was bloody. She must have stepped on broken glass on her way out.

She also noticed Rhys’s hands flexing in her peripheral vision. The garden seemed to grow darker, as if the night sky was leaking out of him.

“Is it true. Is she really in Prythian already?” Feyre asked in a hushed tone. “Amarantha, I mean.”

“It’s true.” Feyre wasn’t sure there was a bottom to how bad she could feel. The only response she could muster was a slow nod. Rhys continued. “Here’s what I’ll say for Amarantha showing up: the others may be convincing themselves we’re humoring her attendance at Eris’s wedding to avoid the war. Make no mistake, this is the war.”

“What do we do?”

Rhys looked at her. Really looked at her, in a way that made Feyre feel naked, completely exposed in front of him.

“We all have our parts to play, Feyre.”

Feyre looked down at the skirt of her wedding dress. Ianthe kept insisting this wedding was crucial to solidify Spring Court—a beautiful coupling to unify the people, give them something to be passionate about backing. She hadn’t gone through her plan with Beron. Was marrying Tamlin her part to play? It was a sobering thought, but an oddly steadying one. She’d loved him once, up until very recently. She could love him again, couldn’t she?

“And what is your part to play, Rhysand?”

He smiled—a small, sad smile—and huffed a humorless laugh. “Rhys,” he corrected. “And it’s not entirely dissimilar to yours.”

He reached a hand out, moving slowly enough that she had plenty of time to stop him if she wanted to. She didn’t. She gripped the skirt of her wedding dress tightly in her balled hands, trying to will herself to ignore this insane urge to reach out and pull him toward her.

His fingers reached her cheek, grazing softly across her skin. Feyre winced at a sharp pain as he moved over a slice in her skin.

“You’re so…” he trailed off, or stopped himself. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Feyre’s breath was shallow in her chest. “Hurt? Or wearing a wedding dress?”

Rhys’s fingers froze. Feyre’s breath froze. The world seemed to still for a moment in the twilight. The question was out there, this pull between them acknowledged. She couldn’t take it back. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

“I can live with you marrying Tamlin but I can’t live with you loving him.”

The words had barely left his lips when Feyre gave in. Her hands found his shirt and pulled him the last little bit into her. Their lips met and Feyre sighed, slumping back against the garden wall, Rhys following. His other hand rose, framing her face and holding her to him as he pressed her against the stone with his body. She opened her mouth to his, tongues meeting, fists still balled up in the fabric of his tunic.

Their tongues met again and again, breath mingling, and something felt so right in a way Feyre had never quite experienced. She swore she could feel the moon setting and rising at the same time, the heat of the sun and the ice cold of the darkest ocean. She felt old and new, present and not, an inexplicable kind of eternity. Something gold and warm bloomed within her, a tie between the center of him and the center of her.

Rhys’s hands slid into her hair and Feyre moaned softly into his mouth. She shifted her weight, inhaling sharply and suddenly snapping back into her body at a pain from where glass had sliced her foot. She pulled back, pushing at Rhys’s chest at the same time.

They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other wordlessly.

Feyre reached up and let her fingers graze her lips, as if to make sure that had been real.

No, no, please no, she thought.

But she knew.

“Rhys—” she whispered. A plea, an admission.

Mates. She knew it like she knew her own name. Mates.

He looked pained, eyes skimming from hers, to her lips, to her dress.

“I need to go. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

Feyre could only let the wall hold her up as Rhys walked away toward the entrance to the manor.

--------------

taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @the-lonelybarricade @popjunkie42 @magic-and-ships @starfall-spirit @soopsiedaisies

#acotar #feysand #a court of thorns and roses #rhys x feyre #feysand fic #if forever gets lonely #acotar fanfiction

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

Note

Ok, I have absolutely no idea if this is how I send requests or not (I’m new to this and technically, you’re my first person I’ve ever sent a submission to. So I apologize in advance if this isn’t where I’m supposed to ask-) anyways, I was wondering if you’re still taking requests and if you are, do you mind writing for thrawn? 🥺

I am obsessed and I can’t get this man out of my head 😵‍💫

Anyways here’s what I’m thinking-

Reader is an agent/captain (preferably female) and she works on the Chimaera and is known as the joking type. Very expressive (both in her facial expressions and in her voice) if someone says smt stupid she’s gonna make a face. Doesn’t really care about anyone’s opinion, but is very nice towards people.

She made friends with kallus and pryce. When we catch thrawns attention (being that we have a humorous personality), but are also very eager to learn from him. Whenever he starts talking about his plans or the benefits of art she’s always asking questions. (Not in a disagreement or disrespectful manner, but in a curious one)

So the admiral likes us, but then someone takes an unnecessary liking towards us (cough cough- constantin-) and no matter how blunt we make it that we aren’t interested, he just can’t seem to take the hint. Us being who we are, we don’t want anyone else to interfere in the matter cause we can handle it ourselves (aka kallus or pryce ask if we need help or if they can do something but the readers got it all under the bag and reassuring them) but one day it’s gotten kinda out of hand and thrawn sees how pushy constantin is being and he does interfere, shutting him down immediately. After that, he’s kinda more protective around us. Makes it so that are duties circulated more around his. And we start to form a bond with him.

Maybe something where kallus and pryce are teasing us about it (and maybe a confession from the reader 😳) when all of the sudden we realize that thrawn was listening in and he takes the reader aside and makes it clear that he fancies us as well?

I don’t care if you wanna end it with fluff, but is certainly wouldn’t mind if you go hardcore and make it a spicy ending 🥵 I just really want something like this and haven’t really found anything that scratches the itch! 🤣

Sorry if this is kinda long (and detailed) like I said you are my first ever submission..😅

P.s. Love your work so far, you’re doing amazing!❤️

Thank you so much dear ❤️ You did well, don't worry

I compressed the timeline a bit, but it is close enough of what you asked. I hope you like it!

Thrawn x f!reader

Tags: Konstantin being a creep, fluff, humor, p in v, creampie, alien anatomy, knot...

“So?” Arhinda asks with gleaming in the eyes “You and Thrawn? You seem quite close lately, he took you under his wing?”

“Oh no, it’s rather me who harasses him.” you laugh..

You appreciate this quiet moment with your friend, she rarely comes on the Chimaera lately. Next to her Alexsandr walks with you in silence, focused on his datapad.

“I’m constantly glued to him for him to teach me.”

Arhinda raises an eyebrow, she doesn’t seem convinced.

“Whatever you say, I just noticed he seems to ask your opinion quite a lot lately. And me who thought he was a frozen ice cube, he might have more games than I first anticipated.”

You tuts.

“No, he’s simply patient with people who want to learn.”

“Yeah, I doubt it too,” Alexsandrs raises his gaze from his pad, “he asks you to his office quite a lot. He may have an ulterior motive with you.” he teases you with a smirk.

“Well! I wouldn’t mind, he’s exactly my taste, he looks like a whole meal to me!” you joke along.

Like you got a chance with the Grand Admiral, yeah! He’s untouchable and above all that. But it is true you would not mind, you would gladly bite into that treat of a man.

They exchange a gaze.

“Oh Maker, she’s blind.” Arhinda sighs.

You wince at her.

“I’m simply a realist.”

“It’s a shame, the cold stern one and the jokester are a popular trope in movies, no?” Alexsandr ponders.

“Only in duds, Alexs! But you seem the type to be familiar with that genre.” you tease back.

“Ah! Captain (f/n)!” you hear an unpleasant, well too known voice.

Away from you you see Admiral Konstantin walk towards you with long strides and a large smile. Not him again…

“You want us to stay?” Alexs asks.

“No,” you sigh “You can go, I’ll handle it.”

“You’re sure?” Arhinda insists.

“Yes, I’m a big girl! Do not worry about me.” You say with a reassuring smile, walking away from them, closing the distance with Konstantine.

It’s been like what? 3 times you told this guy to fuck off? But he’s dunce like a rock, never taking the hint.

“Captain (f/n)! I am very happy to see you.” He exclaims, rubbing his gloved hands. “I just heard a marvelous news.”

“Oh really, Admiral? Please don’t make me wait.” you try to smile joyfully, but he gots the talent to suck up your energy.

“We’ve been announced on the same mission together, isn’t it wonderful?”

You bite your cheek

“It’s… Incredible news. Does that mean you’re gonna let me take the lead on the mission?” you ask, knowing full well a captain never leads when an admiral is present.

“Letting you lead? No.” he laughs “But that would give us plenty of time to… discuss.”

Yurk.

“Discuss about what? The weather in space?”

“You know the weather is always the same in space.”

“Yes I…” He’s he really that dunce? “I was making a bit of humour…”

“Oh!” he explodes laughing “I like you Captain (f/n)! You are funny!”

You smile, completely on edge, how this man became an admiral again? Not by being smart, that’s for sure. He passes his arm around your shoulder, pressing you against him and you tense up immediately, you’re maybe a jokester but you’re not familiar for all that.

“Please don’t do that.”

He sniffs the air, ignoring your comment.

“You smile divine, do you know that?”

Yes you know, you bought your perfume a real fortune, but if it elicits this kind of behavior you won’t hesitate to throw it across space.

“Yes I know. You don’t need to come this close to scent it.” you bite back.

Then to your utmost horror, he buries his nose in your neck to scent it.

You’re about to send him flying against the consoles when a voice raises behind your backs.

“Admiral Konstantine! What have I said about fraternization of my ships?”

You turn your head to your impromptu savior to meet a red gaze and beautiful blue skin.

Thrawn approaches with his hands behind his back and a hard gaze.

“Oh, Grand Amiral. I’m, huh…” Konstantin really looks caught off guard “I thought you were still in your office.”

“Release my captain at once.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral.” He smiles, truly not sorry to have overstepped your boundaries. He looks at Thrawn to find masculine complicity but he only finds ice, to your pleasure. “I was just… She’s cool with it, I was just trying to install a more friendly ambiance.”

Thrawn raises his brow, unconvinced. Konstantin releases you and you immediately step on the side, letting him alone in the blast zone. Thrawn takes one step towards him, towering him with all his height, forcing Konstantine to look up to him. He shoots him with his gaze.

“I do not want to hear you pathetic excuses and you should learn to treat your female counterparts with respect. I want none of that on my ships, am I clear?”

“I… Yes, sir.” Konstantine lowers his head submissively.

“Present your excuses to the Captain and return to your post immediately.”

Konstantine wince turning to you, clearly displeased to let his eye candy escapes him.

“I am sorry Captain. My behavior was inappropriate?”

“Indeed it was very much, Admiral.” You say with a big unapologetic smile.

You wave him goodbye as he walks away rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Thrawn asks lowly.

“Yes! Thank you Grand Admiral, I almost sent him flying but you intervened just in time.”

“Glad to hear it. Those behaviors are simply unacceptable, do not hesitate to come to me directly if it happens again.” He looks at you softly.

You nudge him.

“With you at my side I am sure he would not dare!”

He looks at you with a frown and you wonder if you crossed the line with him.

But he instantly relaxes.

“This is the effect I am counting on. Come to me if you meet any difficulties.”

“Sir, yes sir!” You salute him with your signature smile and he nods.

“I am counting on you to bring me the datacards tonight again.” And he walks away

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And then?!” Arhinda asks on the edge of her seat.

“And then nothing, he walked away.” you explain, munching on your dish.

She looks disappointed, her shoulders lowered.

“She omits to say he keeps her at his side at all times now.” Alexs interjects.

“No, not really.” you temper. “He’s just protecting me from Konstantin.”

“So he keeps her at his side all the time.” He concludes.

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you are completely blind, as always. From an exterior point of view it is evident.”

Wait.” Arindha intervenes “What do you mean he keeps her at his side now?”

“She has been upgraded to his personal secretary.”

“I am merely helping him sort some files.”

“Yes, we got droids and algorithms to do that.”

“He likes to do it manually.”

“And he needs a tier party help for that? I don’t think so.”

“Wait, you’re telling me that they spent all their evening for the last four months together alone?” Arhinda asks him

“Yes.”

“It is less saucy than that.” You explain. What if they ascribe him intentions? Thrawn has been nothing but respectful and helpful to you. “Maybe he is just preparing me for my next promotion?”

“Your promotion to his bed?”

You slap Alexs’s hands with a grimace, he’s so silly sometimes.

“I don’t remember him doing that much to prepare Faro for commandment.” Arhinda recalls

“Because he didn’t.” Alexs shakes his head.

“But what about you? How does that make you feel?” Arhinda turns back to you.

“It’s nice.” you remain succinct.

“What I love about you it’s the abundance of details.” she snarls.

You pull out your tongue to her.

“Well, it's… Great? I like being with him, he’s respectful.”

They both look at you, awaiting for the juicy details.

“There is nothing to say guys, really.” you defend yourself.

“So you didn’t try anything? You remained a pretty doll in his office, never tempting your chance?” Arhinda chokes.

Alexs sighs.

“I told you she was blind, but I didn’t know she was also impotent.”

“Oh come one guys! Place yourself in my shoes, I am intimidated, okay?” You bite into your meat. “He’s really… something else. I am always on edge in his presence. It’s hard being all alone with him in a room.”

“And you didn’t crack some jokes to ease the atmosphere as you do so well?”

“Of course I did. But that doesn’t do all. He’s hard to discern.”

“Really? Because on our end the signs are pretty clear.” Alexs comments “He’s consistently devouring you with his gaze, always commenting on how good you did on the last mission, keeping you next to him…”

You let your bite roll inside your mouth, thinking. It would be wonderful if that were true, he always was to your taste and if he asked you would jump in his arms no question asked. But that is simply a dream.

Arhinda leans forward to lower her voice.

“But in your heart? Did something change? Did it not comfort you in your sentiments? You always had a crush on him.”

“Well…” you lower your voice too, they both lean further pricking up their ears “I… I think…” You gasp for air, not believing your about to reveal your sentiment, but it will help you face them. “I think… I am truly in love with him now…”

You immediately hide your face as you flush, feeling your cheek burning hot.

You hear no response.

You look at them between your fingers, to see them cowering back on their seat, looking behind you. You turn and jump out of your skin.

Thrawn is right behind you.

“Captain (f/n), would you please meet me after your dinner?” he simply asks with his haughty voice.

“Yes, sir.” you simply respond, decomposing yourself.

He walks away without another word, navigating between all the tables of the cantina of the Chimaera.

You slowly turns back to you friends, mortified.

“You think he heard me?”

“I have no idea.” Alexs answer with pursed lips. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” you shout lowly, feeling panic rising in your blood

“Well don’t keep him waiting, you should go.” Arhinda presses you.

“What?” you choke on your own words. “I can’t face him right now!”

“Go!” she orders.

You obey with reluctance, you turn one last time to your friends that try to cheer you up with thumbs up and smiles, but your stomach is turning acidic.

For the first time in your life, you have no joke.

You knock at his office door and wait for permission to enter.

“Come.” He simply orders.

You brace yourself for what might be your biggest humiliation you have yet to face. You enter to discover him focused on his datapad, his “best Grand Admiral” mug in the other hand.

The mug was your idea three years ago, you thought it would be funny but right now it can’t even give you a smile.

“You wished to speak to me, Grand Admiral?” you say with the most assured voice you can muster.

“Indeed.” He lays down his mug and datapad, looking at you up and down with a light smile.

You remain still, waiting in complete silence as he gauges you with his amused expression.

“Is… Is there a problem, sir? Am I in trouble?” you finally ask.

“No. Absolutely not.” He says standing up.

You release your breath.

“Please sit down.” He orders, retrieving something in a closet of his desk.

You sit down, taking as little space as possible. He takes out a bottle and two glasses of the cabinet and starts pouring the alcohol.

“You hide a bottle in your office?” you open your eyes surprised. You never picked up on that during the four months you stayed with him.

“Shhhh. It is a secret.” He grins lightly, handing you a glass. “If I am not mistaken this Bourbon is one of your favorites.” He observes the amber bottle.

You take a sip to taste it.

It’s delicious

“Why do we drink today, sir?” you ask.

“To thank you for your help for the last four months.” He clinks his glass with yours, leaning against the desk and towering you from his height.

“Oh… Well you are welcome, it was natural.”

“Absolutely not, those tasks were not in your job description. You had every right to refuse.”

“I thought it was to keep Konstantine at bay?”

“It was…” he takes a sip, not leaving you with his gaze “And it served a more selfish purpose.”

“Dumping some files gestion on someone else?” you joke with a grin.

“No. Something more down to earth. Simply keeping you close to me at every given moment.”

You choke on your sip.

What did he just said?

He observes you coughing out the liquid, handing you a handkerchief to wipe your mouth.

“Sorry sir.” you press the fabric on your lips “I think I misheard.”

“On the contrary, I think you heard perfectly right. Just as I heard you ten minutes ago.”

You froze.

He heard you?

“Sir, whatever you thought you heard I meant no disrespect and-”

“Why would I take offense in a love confession?”

You wince, it was technically not a confession.

“Sir, again I am truly sorry.” You can’t push yourself to meet his gaze, you’re way too embarrassed.

It was supposed to be a secret between your heart and your friends, and now the object of your desires is aware of everything. Talk about discretion…

“You are absolutely adorable when you are embarrassed and confused like that.” he sings softly.

“Sir, please do not mock me. I am already embarrassed enough like that.” you try to defend yourself.

“Who says I am mocking you? I am serious.” he bites back.

You look up to him in surprise. You don’t see any ill intent or mockery in his gaze, but instead a clear and unwavering résolution. And something… heavy, dark and dangerous.

You gulp, your mouth dry despite your drink.

He leans forward slowly, his long fingers coming to graze your lips. It is such a simple touch, barely there, but it makes you gasp.

“How many of those visages do you have?” he murmurs “What visage do you have behind the doors of your bedroom?” he brushes your lip with his thumb “Will you allow me to see it?”

To say all words escaped you is an understatement. Your brain completely froze and you can’t move or say anything to save your life.

His thumbs part your lips lightly, entering your mouth. By instinct you gently bite down the tip of his finger and see his grin growing larger.

“Is that a yes?”

“You… You suggest we…sleep together?”

“Was I not clear enough?” He raises an eyebrow, amused

“You were not scant in details.” You say with a small voice.

“Let me be more explicit then.” He flashes you his fangs “I want you in my bed, I want to feel your pussy clench around my cock and see you struggle to take it. I want you to ride me to exhaustion, I want you to beg for me to stop because you cannot take so much…”

You just listen to him explaining his fantasies to you, mouth agape.

“Obviously, we will not do anything without your consent.” He raises back his bust to look down on you with all his height. “Is my offer acceptable to you?”

Your brain is fried, the man you dream about for years proposing to you to spend the night with him?

Oh hell yeah!

“Captain (f/n)?”

You blink and shake yourself realizing you didn’t answer him.

“Yes, sir. This is a very… tempting offer.”

He leans back to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear.

“Then join me at my suite in two hours. I will wait… patiently for you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knock on his door with a flustered heart, feeling light with butterflies in the stomach. You took a thorough shower, combed your hair with a drop of perfume and passed on a fresh uniform.

“Enter.” you hear a welcoming voice.

The room is large, decorated with taste. A melody floats in the air with the scent of petits fours, and the distinct sound of a glass bottle. In the middle of the room is a large sofa with Thrawn slouching on it like a tired king. He stands up as he sees you approaching.

“Captain (F/n). Welcome.”

You wince at the title. You hoped you could be on a first name basis now.

“Thank you Grand Admiral.”

“Please, call me Thrawn. May I address you by your first name?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful, please take a seat.” He gestures to the sofa and you sit, pressing your legs together. He sits close next to you, brushing his leg to yours. “I took the liberty to prepare a bottle of champagne for us.”

“Alcohol again? Are you trying to get me drunk, Grand Ad-Thrawn?” you ask with a smirk.

His hand holding a glass stops mid movement.

“I am sorry, it was never my intention. Please refrain if you think it is necessary.”

“No, it's good.” You take the glass from his hand. “I need something to relax.”

“Am I that terrible?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, it’s just…” you click your tongue, thinking about your next words. “I loved you for so long, I am a bit nervous.” you confess, turning to meet his gaze.

His hand comes caressing your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair.

“(Y/n), you have nothing to worry about. I hoped for this night to happen for long on my part too.”

Your heart flutters at those words and you press your cheek against his palm.

“Really?”

“Yes. You have enchanted me with your spirit and you plagued my dreams from our first encounter. I cannot believe that you are here tonight.”

You take his hand and kiss his palm.

“I am truly here, Thrawn.”

“To my utmost joy.” He leans forward, approaching his lips but letting you the choice to close the gap.

You don’t have to be asked twice! You close your eyes and brush your lips with his before pressing them firmly. The touch is soft and inviting. His tongue comes part your lips apart to enter your mouth and hug your tongue. You let him enter without hesitation. His hand cups your head, combing through your hair, you moan in the kiss and you feel the vibrations of a chuckle.

You part reluctantly. He presses his forehead against yours, both taking back your breath.

“Before we proceed further.” He warns “I want you to know what you are engaging yourself with.” he says breathily.

You nod silently, all ears.

“I am not merely proposing to you a one night stand. I do not have time for trials and errors and stories without any futures.” He whispers. “I hope… We could build something together. A long lasting story à deux.”

You blink. He’s suggesting you become a couple?

“Are you willing to try?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Yes. Yes!”

“My love is demanding and sometimes selfish. Are you sure you want that?” He warns you.

You take his head in your two hands and kiss him feverishly.

“Yes! That is all I ever wanted. Thrawn… I am so happy!”

He caresses your cheek and kisses you back.

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you Thrawn. I love you so much!” You throw yourself at him, to his surprise.

You push him on the sofa and straddle him, pressing your body on his, kissing him fiercely. He combs his fingers in your head, squeezing you tight with a deep rumble coming from his chest.

“I did not know chiss could growl like that.”

He grins snarky.

“You have no idea what I can do, cha’cah.” he bites your lower lips.

He rises back and stands up, holding your hands.

“Follow me, my darling.”

You smile broadly at the surname.

“Can I give you a nickname too?”

He guides you to his bedroom, another large room with a double bed that looks real comfy and… inviting.

“Of course.”

“My love?”

“I would be honored.”

“Sweetheart?”

“As you wish, cha’cah.” He pushes you against the wall, pressing your warm bodies together

“Honey booboo?” You stick your tongues out.

“Alright, you are pushing it.” He bites and nibbles the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that why you love me?” you gasp.

“Oh, I do love you very much. Especially with your little humor, but I am not going to allow everything.”

“Oh.” You falsely pout “You’re no fun.”

“That is your role, cha’cah.” He kisses back your lips, his tongue pushing to enter your mouth and hug yours. You let him pass, meeting his tongue with delight. His lips are soft and warm, getting swollen as the kiss gets languorous. “You are my little jokester.”

“Your favorite jester?”

“You are more than that.” He grumbles in the kiss.

You giggle and jump into his mighty arms, circling his hips with your legs. He carries you no problem and falls with you on the bed, you yelp in surprise. His body weight cuts your breath, but you hold him even tighter. You seize his face and start pecking him all over with a growl.

Muah! Muah! Muah! You sparkle a surname between each kiss, showering him with love.

“My love! My Grand Admiral! My Prince! My heart!...”

You press his cheeks to make him look like a fish and explode laughing.

“You are having fun?” he asks patiently.

“Sorry…” you cry “I couldn’t resist!” you release his face to hold your ribs laughing.

He pinches your cheek.

“Look at you. I will make you wear a buffoon costume.”

“Promise?”

He sighs, his shoulders lowering.

“You are not supposed to want it.”

“But it is such a good idea!”

“You are impossible.” He smiles, lowering himself on you and kisses you softly.

It isn’t like the earlier hasty kiss, this one is soft and slow, gentle. His lips travel on your mouth, your cheeks, your jaw, your neck… You hear him purr loudly, like a satisfied tiger.

“I love you.” He whispers again.

“I love you too…” You comb your fingers through his hair.

“I cannot get enough of you.” He peppers kisses everywhere on your face, waving his body against yours. You can feel his bulge rubbing against your core.

You try to purr in unison with him, but only manage a gurgling. He grins at your effort.

“You do not have the vocal cord for that.”

You pout.

“Not fair.”

He takes your hand and places them on his chest.

“Listen.”

You both remain still in the arms of the other, listening to him purr and feeling it through your palms, all the little vibrations and waves. His head is buried in your neck while he caresses your back, lazily kissing the crook.

“It’s amazing.” you let out, absolutely fascinated. “What else can you do?”

“Many things.” He grazes his lips against your forehead “We Chiss are capable of numerous things human males cannot.”

“Like what?” you murmur, deadly curious.

“You will see in a given time.” he purrs.

You bite your lips, you don’t wanna wait, you want to know! You start unbuttoning his jacket to gain access to his chest, hurriedly pulling on his shirt to uncover his abs and pecs. You let your hands travel and roam around his warm skin and wiggle your way under him to kiss his chest.

“Let me get rid of that.” He sighs satisfied.

He rises on his knees and starts undressing, you follow the movement and sit down, ending up at eye-level with his bulge, you press your palm on it, feeling warmth emanated from under the fabric. You knead him through his pants, playing with his hidden cock.

The bulge is massive! It makes you drool in anticipation. You can’t wait to play with it. You gesture towards it but Thrawn slaps your hand.

“Do not touch.”

“Ouch!” You protest “Why?”

“I will take care of that.”

You pout. He took a delectable candy from you.

He chuckles.

“Do not fret, cha’cah. I will give it to you.”

You snarl.

“But I want to play with it, to taste it…”

“Another time, I promise you.” He says falling down on you.

You are crushed under his weight, but it feels comforting and safe. His hands roam your body and one find its way in your pants, gently stroking your clit and trailing your slit. You mewl and wave your body under his touch. He nibbles your neck, leaving hickeys everywhere.

“Mmmmmmmmh.” He sighs “I wanted to claim you like a beast, but I will rather make love to you all night long.”

“Why did you changed your mind?”

“You being adorable. I want to take care of you.”

“I protest, sir. A good fuck is of upmost importance to take care of me.”

“Tomorrow then. Tonight I will hold you and love you gently.” He purrs.

You bury your nose in his neck, inhaling his musk and cologne. He smell so good! You lick his shoulder, the alcohol of the perfume stinging your tongue.

He enters you with one finger, teasing your entrance, curling his knuckles. You press your thighs shut, locking up his hand in its place. He locates your gummy spot and grazes it gently, circling it with the pad of his finger. You moan in his ear and bite it.

You press his body on top of yours, circling his waist with your legs and his shoulders with your arms. You comb your fingers in his hair, disheveling him. He pushes another finger into your leaking sex and scissors you thoroughly. You feel your pussy contracting around his fingers as he stretches you so deliciously.

“Thrawn….” You whimper.

“Mmh? Vocalize your bliss cha’cah. I like to know I am giving you pleasure.”

“I think I am ready for you.” you press him.

“I am the one to decide that.” He gently chides, “Let me check.”

He takes out his fingers and inspect them.

“No you are not. See my fingers? They should be dripping.”

You frown.

“I… I have never done that before.” You inform.

“You are capable of it. I trust you.” He approaches his fingers to your mouth “Give yourself a bit of help.”

You open your mouth and taste yourself on his fingers. It’s rather salty. You lick them clean, lapping them conscientiously. He purrs approvingly and takes them out. You lick you lips clean with an exaggerated satiated expression. He kisses your cheek.

“Never change, cha’cah.”

He re-enters you and fingers you aggressively, draining moans and sobs from you. You dig your nails in his shoulders to hold on. His lips travel down your nipple that he licks and glides over. He takes it in his mouth, sucking on it and gently bites into it. You can’t help but yelp in pain and excitement.

He keeps scratching your g-spot until your pussy convulses on his fingers and you suddenly squirt in his hand.

“See?” He chuckles, “You could do it.” He shows you his dripping fingers.

You nod, still a bit shocked that it happened. It was unprompted but apparently it was part of Thrawn’s plan all along. He surely is confident in his abilities to give you pleasure, you’ll give him that.

He finishes pulling down your pants and spreads your legs wide apart, placing himself between them. He opens his trouser and finally free his cock. It is blue like the rest of his skin safe for the tip that is purplish, it has ridges all along the length almost like scales but of soft flesh.

Well, soft, if it wasn’t painfully erected that is.

The girth and length are consequent, but it is okay. You like a challenge!

You lick your lips and open your pussylips with two fingers, titillating him, daring him to enter you.

He slightly grins and aligns himself with you, pushing his swollen member inside you delicately. You open your mouth round, he’s maybe larger than you first anticipated…

He kisses your lips gently once he’s fully inside your leaking sex.

Maker, he is so large! He stretches your poor pussy so, so much. You are stuffed to the brim, like you were made for him.

“Mmmmmmmmh.” He hums appreciatively “You are perfect for my cock, you are strangling it just like you should.”

“Move, please, please, please.” you demand, on the verge of explosion.

“Of course cha’cah, anything for you.”

He starts to rock his hips in a deep and languorous manners, hitting deep into you, waving his hot body against yours. You observe his cock disappearing into your sex, utterly fascinated. His ridged dick feels so good inside you, the ridges graze deliciously the wall of your puffy pussy, your swollen walls embracing his girth with ease like a fluffy pillow.

It feels so good.

He alternates between thrust and circling motions of the hips, always loving and profound, reaching the depths of your being.

He is slow and languid, delicate and loving, never stopping kissing you languorously, robbing you of your breath. He hits your cervix with ease, a creamy O at the base of his cock.

“Can I come inside?” He asks after rolling his hips against yours to oblivion.

Your pussy is spasming and contracting around him like it’s trying to keep it inside, but your slick makes it slippery.

You nod, out of breath, face hot and body sweating. You hold onto for dear life. The pace is slow but it feels like too much for you, he puts so much love in each thrust you’ve never felt adored like that before, so much you feel tears rolling on your cheeks.

He looks at you confounded.

“Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong, did I hurt you?” He immediately worries.

“No, no.” you sniff. “It’s nothing. I’m good. Continue.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and hold him tighter. “Continue, don’t stop.”

He resumes his thrusts with a quicker pace, making you bob up and down.

You feel something weird.

Something is growing inside you…

His movement became erratics and with a final push he cums deep inside you, hot ribbons of seed that your pussy milks for all its worth. You came with a gasp of his name, clenching all around his shaft and the weird mass you feel inside.

He lays on you, out of breath, kissing the side of your neck. As you try to move you realize you're stuck. You lower your gaze, wondering why you can’t move.

“Do not worry, it is perfectly normal.” He reassures you.

“But what is…”

You open your eyes round when you see the bulge of your tummy, is it…?

“You have a knot?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Indeed.” He nods “I told you Chiss could do impossible things to humans.It will ensure you have been properly bred and you will become pregnant.”

“I’m…” you’re completely out of words “I’m on pill.”

“A pity.” He brushes his nose with yours “We will have the occasion to speak about it.”

You nods, eyes fixated on the bulge.

“You do not like it.” you hear a hint of sadness in his voice “It repulses you?”

“What? No! No, no ,no no! It doesn’t repulse me.” You hold his face in your hands lovingly. “It just surprised me, that’s all. I swear it’s good.”

“It does not weird you out?” he inquires, a tad worried.

“No. I quite like it actually. It’s exotic and…”

“Alien?” He has a lopsided grin.

“Yes.” you chuckle “A bit alien can’t hurt. I like everything about you, that included.”

“I am glad.” He pecks your lips.

“Plus it might come in use at some point.” you cheerfully joke.

“I very much hope so.”

“But not now!” you temper. You are not ready to become a mother yet!

“We will have a long discussion about it” he promises.

“And how long does it stay swollen?”

“It depends, between minutes to one hour.”

You choke.

“One hour?!”

He hums, nodding.

“We can stay like that while it lasts.” He calms you down “In each other's arms. I cannot think of anything better.”

“No, you are right.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess

☆Tag list

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull #thrawn smut

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skeyfruit · 2 months ago

Text

There was information circulating on the Internet that Falconer was in the bad blood group not by choice. I don’t know how true it is, but I decided to write a fanfic that tells how this could happen

I want to warn you that I am not a native English speaker and do not count myself among the group of good writers, but I hope this will be readable

Warning

maybe Berserker/Falconer

I never thought that in pursuit of freedom I would end up like a bird in a cageSince childhood, I believed that I was different from my relatives, while others were eager to fight, I paved the way to the unknown, to what seemed alien and meaningless to others, expanding my range with new knowledge, studying foreign cultures and behavior. Striving for perfection, you begin to understand that no matter how graceful a hunter you are, you can always be beaten, covered with self-confidence, you lose your vigilance, excessive emotionality always loses to a cold mind.

I have devoted most of my life to the study of space and living organisms. Having become a pathfinder, this became my full-time task, preserving the newly acquired information. Developments in technology have opened new paths for me. improving weapons, updating systems, bringing everything to the edge of what is possible and permitted. There were also borders, there was no chance of conducting our own production for a variety of weapons and additional amenities. borders had their inconveniences, and every time attempts to get around them ended in refusal and pointlessly wasted time. Without approval there were no resources, the idea of hidden production made no sense in this case. It was not possible to travel through space without permission, constantly asking for permission for this or that expedition. The only thing that was approved as a single copy was a wrist reconnaissance device that imitated the flying creatures I loved.

That day, I conducted a successful test of its performance and efficiency in completing assigned tasks on a planet that was part of a dense jungle. Until some moment it seemed to me that I was alone here, it seemed.

a demonstrative crash of a figure landing several pounds away. An unfamiliar hunter was slowly approaching me. There was no threat coming from him, but it seemed to me that I had never seen him before; the red tassels on his dreadlocks stood out against the background of the rest. he offered me a deal where everyone can get what they want. At the time it seemed like a harmless proposal, but I should have thought twice about what I was doing.

firmware equipment, disabling geolocation, this should already have aroused suspicion, but my new acquaintance sounded quite convincing, convincing me that there was nothing wrong with this, or that I was too naive then. in return, I was given my own shuttle, the supply of the necessary resources and complete freedom of action to carry out my instructions. At the slightest doubt, Berserker rubbed into my gained trust. This was his plan, I was deceived and I myself let him get away with everything. I understood that what I was doing was against the rules, but I didn’t realize their seriousness until it went too far.

It all started small, supplying prey from different parts of the galaxy. Our hunt did not go anywhere near the code. The berserker did not disdain any method of elimination, starting with shooting a plasma gun at an unarmed victim, ending with torturing prey with traps, bringing him to exhaustion and suffering until death for his own pleasure. and if the prey managed to give a worthy rebuff, there can be no question of any fair fight.he can play with her at first, performing in hand-to-hand combat, but in the event of the slightest defeat, under the pressure of his emotionality and impulsiveness, he deals with her in the most dishonest and vile way, it is impossible to win, he dictates the rules and they are constantly changing. but the peak was what I saw in the trophy camp. Then it became obvious that I had not only fallen into the clutches of a heretic, but had also become part of it. Fratricide. I didn't want to be a part of this, but it was too late.

The metal door opened and the young hunter climbed aboard the ship. he was behind Berserker, a slight tension hung in the air. Heretic was distracted from polishing the skull, paying attention to the figure standing behind him - Why such a defensive position? - The falconer glared at him with an incredulous, condemning look, nevertheless raising his voice - Atturi is in the camp, did you know about this? “He still wanted to believe that it was some kind of mistake.” A grin broke out on the heretic’s face, something like a smile; there was not a drop of regret in his gazehe indifferently took a couple of steps to the side, turning over a human skull in his hands, already polished to perfection - Are you talking about that pathetic hunter? “Berserker asked a rhetorical question with some arrogance, after which he turned towards his companion. — In my opinion, everyone here does their own thingresponsibilities - He took several decisive steps towards the falconer, standing in front of him at a distance of one meter - Other work should not concern you - There was a distinct hint of threat in his voice. The falconer face burned with disgust and condemnation, which amused the Berserker.It’s clear that there’s nothing left to talk about - I’m not going to have anything to do with this, I’m leaving. - He turned around demonstratively and headed towards the exit - No one is keeping you here - Falconer slowed down, listening to the elder’s words. The berserker followed him, standing behind the hunter. “But do you really think that they will take you back?” His clawed paw rested on the falcon neck at shoulder level. His words cast doubt on what had previously been floating around in Falconer's thoughts. his sudden disappearance could cause a lot of suspicion, without proper alebi his deeds could be revealed, and then what? Serve the rest of your life at the lowest level of caste or be sentenced to death, one option is better than the other. he raised his incredulous gaze towards Berserker, his doubt was visible in it, the stabbing truth still kept him here. - Do you want to go back to where you will become nobody again? - He walked forward, standing between the exit and Falcon, bending slightly to meet his gaze, his palmshe fingered the ranger's dreadlocks, pulling one of them towards her, still holding it in her hands. - Be realistic, birdie

#falconer predator #yautja #predator #predators #predator franchise #super predator #Funfic #I love my nerd bird #Falcker

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officalgeorgestaniel · 2 months ago

Note

warming up gatty subby george pleeeeeeeease

Anon, it's like you're inside my mind! I love me some chilly, subby George🎄

Here is my fist story of the Christmas75 season! Did I promise these stories would be 500 word blurbs? Yes I did. Did I write 1.6k words for this one? Yes I did.

18+ only please!

The following content includes:

cockwarming

pointless banter

george being a baby cos he's very cold

matty being a nympho

location: angelic studios, brackley, uk

year: 2020

“Matty! What are you doing with the door open?! No wonder it's fucking freezing in here!”

Matty turned his attention away from the television to look over his shoulder at George. The younger man was shuffling into the lounge, looking as cold as he sounded, with his arms crossed over his chest and his hands tucked under his armpits.

“I was smoking a spliff and didn't feel like hotboxing the place,” Matty answered.

Unlike George, who was dressed in a fleece, sweatpants, socks, and slippers, Matty was wearing nothing but his underwear and a long sleeve top.

Matty always ran hot whereas George always ran cold. The younger man was constantly cranking up the thermostat, wrapping himself in blankets, and hugging himself like he was now. Matty figured it was because George was so tall. His arms and legs were too long for his blood to circulate efficiently, thus he was always chilly in one way or another. Since winter had begun, he'd been extra bitchy about it, complaining to Matty whenever he had to go outside or when the studio was less than twenty degrees.

“Are you done now?” George questioned.

“Yeah,” Matty replied.

“Then shut the fucking door,” George grumbled before walking to the door and closing it himself. The rush of brisk, December air was suddenly sealed off and the room began to warm up almost instantly.

“Dinner’s almost ready, by the way,” George continued flatly, glancing down at Matty with a grim look on his face as he moved to walk back to the kitchen.

“Baby, please don't be mad at me,” Matty said. “I didn't know you could feel it from the kitchen.”

George took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. His face softened slightly. “I'm sorry… I didn't mean to snap at you, I just don't like it when you let the cold in.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Matty pouted, gazing up at his boy. “Come sit with me.” He patted the couch next to him. “Let me warm you up, hm? You know well enough that I've got enough body heat for the two of us.”

George cracked the tiniest smile at him. It was a fair offer. The least Matty could do after letting all the frigid air inside was to help raise George's core temperature a little bit. Besides, George could never say no to a cuddle. What else was he going to do? Stand in the kitchen by himself while he waited for the timer on the oven to go off?

He stepped over to the couch and flopped down next to Matty, leaning all his weight into the older man's side when he felt the radiant heat of his body. It was like he was on fire, how the hell did he do it?

It's probably because he's so tiny, George mused internally. Matty was always trying to blame George for being a freak because he was tall, when in reality Matty was the real freak, being all small and short. Matty hated it when George called him short, when anyone called him short for that matter. George giggled softly to himself.

“What are you laughing about?” Matty teased softly before wrapping his arm around George's shoulders and ruffling his cropped, fluffy hair.

“Nothing,” George lied, grinning to himself as he hid his face in the crook of Matty's neck.

“You're cute, you know that?” Matty chuckled, planting a kiss on George's forehead.

“You might have mentioned it before,” George mumbled into Matty's neck, feeling himself blush at the compliment. All the icy grumpiness he'd been feeling just moments before had thawed and drained from his body. Being close to Matty always made him feel happy and warm.

Matty hummed in agreement and was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “Feels nice,” he said.

“What does?” George asked, his face still buried in Matty's neck.

“Your breath on my neck,” Matty answered. He threaded his fingers through George's hair and scratched his head softly.

George melted into his touch and made a soft, rumbly sound of contentment that travelled right into Matty's ear.

There was another long pause between them. Out of the corner of George's eye, he could see the golden lights on their Christmas tree twinkling prettily. They had put one up despite the fact that they weren't going to be at the studio to see it on Christmas day. They were going to visit their families for the holiday, but in the meantime, they had wanted to get in the festive spirit. The tree stood proudly in the corner of the room between the big sectional couch and the television, which was still on. Matty had paused the game he was playing, so the only sound coming from the speakers was the quiet lobby music.

Matty gently took hold of George’s chin and pulled him in for a kiss… which turned into him coaxing George to straddle his lap so they were chest to chest… which turned into him feeling George up through his fleece. Matty loved the feeling of the soft, fuzzy fabric under his fingers, but he wanted to touch the firm, sturdy body that he could feel underneath it as well. The second Matty slid his hands underneath, George nearly squealed at the feeling of his icy digits on his stomach.

Matty let out a sinister giggle. “Sounds like I need some warming up too.”

Matty circled George's nipples with his chilly fingers, causing the younger man's face to contort as though he were uncomfortable, but he gave his pleasure away by whimpering and pushing his chest out for more.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sound,” Matty murmured. “Do it again.” He punctuated his sentence with a gentle pinch, causing George to whine.

“Shit…” Matty cursed quietly. “Feels like someone else likes it when you make pretty sounds as well…”

George looked confused for a moment, but then his eyes widened as he realized that Matty was getting hard underneath him.

Matty smirked as he continued playing with George's sensitive nipples. “Why don't you keep me warm for a little bit?” He suggested, gazing up at George with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

“Mattyyyyyy,” George whined aggrievedly, "I have to get our dinner out of the oven in less than ten minutes.” His voice said no, but his body said yes, he didn't make a single movement to stop Matty from touching his chest. It felt so good, he couldn't help himself.

“That's long enough for me,” Matty shrugged as he started undoing the toggles of George's sweatpants.

“We don't even have any lube!” George chuckled in disbelief at Matty's sudden desperation.

“Of course we do.” Matty shoved his hand between the couch cushions and brandished a bottle of their favourite oil-based Sliquid.

“What the fuck?” George cackled. “Why is that even there? I don't remember doing it on the couch?”

“I had to jack off earlier.” Matty shrugged.

“So you just jacked off and now you want me to sit on your dick? You're insatiable!” George rolled his eyes playfully.

“Please,” Matty simpered up at him, ignoring his comment about his libido. “Hearing you in the kitchen got me all hot and bothered.”

George blushed bright red. “You jacked off while I was cooking?”

“Yes. But now I want you for real. Come on, get those trackies off.” Matty tugged at the fabric.

George stood up and shucked his sweats, dropping them to the floor so he was naked save for his fleece. The thought of Matty wanking behind his back while they were practically in the same room together was starting to get him hot and bothered.

In the meantime, Matty had pulled his cock from his underwear and was squeezing some lube onto his fingers. He wrapped them around himself and tugged a few times, just enough to distribute the liquid, before he gestured for George to straddle him again.

George was no stranger to being filled up at a moment's notice. Since he and Matty had moved into the studio together, they'd been having more sex than usual. George had become accustomed to relaxing himself and taking Matty whenever they wanted him to, though the feeling of the initial stretch always made his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back into his head.

He moaned softly as he felt each inch of Matty's slick cock slowly force its way inside of him.

“Fuck,” Matty groaned as George's ass finally came into contact with his thighs.

“You want me to move?” George asked, trying to keep his composure, which was difficult when he was filled to the hilt. His pulse was throbbing around Matty's cock, and he suddenly felt hot all over. Perhaps Matty was right, this was a good way to warm up.

Matty shook his head and wrapped his arms around George's back, pulling him in close. “No, this is perfect.”

George couldn't help but wiggle his hips just slightly.

“Shh, just stay still,” Matty murmured softly as he began rubbing George's back through his fleece, enjoying the subtle bumps of his strong vertebrae underneath the thick fabric.

From over George's shoulder, Matty could see their Christmas tree glowing gold with the fairy lights they'd decorated it with. At that moment, he decided that he wouldn't mind staying at the studio for Christmas, just the two of them. Him and George and George's hot, tight body surrounding him. He couldn't possibly think of a better Christmas wish than that.

The oven started beeping.

“Fuck's sake,” George groaned into Matty's neck.

“I'll get it,” Matty said. “You wait here and I'll put the tray on the counter. We should probably let it cool for a few minutes, shouldn't we?”

George nodded and pulled himself off of Matty with a slick pop. “Yeah, the recipe says it needs to cool overnight,” he joked, evidently wanting to get back in Matty's lap for as long as he could.

Matty cackled as he stood up from the couch and tucked his boner back into his underwear. “And you call me insatiable.”

#christmas75 #george daniel #matty healy #gatty fic

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blainesebastian · 2 years ago

Text

damage control (mas universe)

words: 2,284 ship: austin butler x reader summary: ( @stylespresleyhearted requested) “Reader’s iCloud gets hacked and she had some pictures in lingerie she had sent to Austin that get leaked” notes: this is part of the ‘mutually assured satisfaction’ universe, my PR!relationship series. You could probably read this alone if you wanted. warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted, @rairaielv

In theory, you know there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re a strong, successful woman in your industry and you’ve worked hard for that. There have been moments of sacrifice that you’ve never admitted or spoken outloud to anyone, but that’s what one does for their craft sometimes? Their passion. Not even to mention that you’re unconsciously comparing yourself to men in your shoes, how much more recognition they might get, how much more money. It’s not something you harp on because sometimes society just is what it is…you know how lucky you are and how far you’ve come, you’re not about to complain. But deep down you wonder, if this would have happened to a man somehow, what would the reactions be? There’s a societal stereotype that digs right under your skin.

And yet that doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens.

In the back of your mind, there are a million thoughts swirling through in harsh circles, like a washing machine cycle that just won’t end. It’s one thing to take pictures of yourself for your boyfriend but why did you keep them? It would have been easy just to delete them afterwards, to make sure. And then another thought rebounds back with a why? What’s the big deal? So what if you’ve taken these pictures? You shouldn’t be embarrassed that you posed yourself in a bit of lingerie and sent them to your long-term boyfriend when he was away filming. You both missed one another, the phone sex and Facetime calls and long nights of shared intimacy of just hearing eachother’s voices was just barely enough to cover the ache. Why not add a few pictures to make things interesting? You loved taking them and Austin certainly loved receiving them. You haven’t done anything wrong, you haven’t hurt anyone.

There’s a rational part of your brain, however, that knew this was going to be a bad idea, or maybe hindsight is always that clear.

It’s just a ping-pong set of emotions, really, because when it happens you’re constantly floating between two families of thought. When someone hacks into your iCloud account and finds those pictures, they’re instantly circulated in a few ways. Sold to paps, posted online. Your agent and publicist do their best to cover damage control and while you’re numb at first to this even happening? your first thought ends up being, well at least I’m not completely naked.

And then that’s how it starts, the ping-pong table of feelings.

One the one side, there’s an aloof sense of justification in which you argue with yourself and anyone else that you’ve got no reason to feel shame about your body. It’s not your fault that the female form is automatically sexualized in society and that yeah, you’re wearing lingerie? But so what? It’s no more revealing than a bathing suit and you’re not about to feel guilty for sending them to your boyfriend. It’s not like you’re the only couple on earth to exchange pictures (yeah, Austin has sent his fair share back to you…luckily you had enough common sense not to keep those). On the other one side, you’re pissed off that this has happened and ashamed and embarrassed that a bunch of strangers are seeing you like this, judging you, seeing intimacies that were only made for Austin.

It comes in waves as you handle damage control and unfortunately today, you’re in the latter. The humiliation is just weighing heavily onto you today, like a weighted blanket, pulling your shoulders down. You feel like you might sink right through the floor of your loft…and that’s how Austin finds you when he comes home, crying in the kitchen and worse, trying to hide it from him.

You feel foolish attempting to pretend you’re fine anyways because at this point Austin knows you like the back of his hand, even if he wasn’t caught up on everything that’s been happening. You attempt to walk out of the room but he gently catches your elbow and at one simple touch you just crumble, tears rolling down your cheeks even though you try to wipe them away.

“Shh,” He whispers, drawing you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you tightly, tucking you underneath his chin as emotions slam into you like constant waves. Despite how terrible all of this is and your struggle to come to grips with a lot of it, the only good thing is definitely your boyfriend.

He reminds you how supportive and wonderful he is, not once allowing you to feed into the worst thoughts you’ve had about yourself saying that you somehow deserve the chaos that’s been happening. While friends and family have been encouraging and great, Austin speaks to a part of you that seemingly only he can reach. He’s the only reason you’re getting through this, rocky days or not.

You both eventually end up on the couch, Austin tugging you down until you’re lying on his chest, the lower half of your body between his legs. It’s one of the easiest comforts, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder, nose and lips pressed to soft skin of his neck. The faint scent of his cologne brings a sense of calm and you feel like you’re finally able to breathe, to settle down once you’re against him.

He brings one of his hands up and slides it along your back, pausing to rub circles into your spine. Neither of you need to say anything for a long while, just enjoying one another’s company and decompressing.

“I hate that every time I feel like I’m over this,” You sniffle, breaking the silence, “Another emotion pops up that’s capable of taking my legs out.”

Austin shakes his head gently, letting out a soft sigh that’s mostly through his nose, “You don’t have to justify any emotions that you’re feelin’ about this.”

“I think that’s part of the problem,” You let out a soft laugh, running your fingers underneath your one eye, removing a tear track that’s no longer there. “I have no idea how to feel.” There are so many ranges of reactions that it’s constantly knocking you back and forth—angry and guilty and humiliated and upset and so many synonyms for all of those, all a cycle, over and over again.

And then even worse, it’s not just you involved in this whole thing but other people are waiting for your reaction to this. Paps, social media, people you’ve worked with, fans…and not that you owe anyone an explanation, either, but you also feel like it’s not going to go away until you say something.

“You don’t owe anyone anythin’.” Austin reads your mind and you smile just a little because even though that might be obvious, it’s nice to hear it.

Shifting a little on his chest, you tilt your head up to look at him, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “I just don’t get what the big damn deal is, people do shit like this all the time. Don’t even get me started on how there’s underwear and bathing suit models? A ton of celebrities go down that track.” You get the sense that this is because it was something more intimate, more forbidden, the fact that these were for Austin’s eyes only. But still.

Austin brushes your hair aside. “That’s what you should do,” He comments, more offhanded than anything else, “Give them somethin’ to look at if they’re insisting.”

And you just kinda blink because…wait, “I…I could do that.”

A soft laugh rumbles in your boyfriend’s chest until he looks down at you and realizes you’re serious. He adjusts the pillow behind him, propping himself up a little more so he can see you properly. He raises his eyebrows, his mouth opening for a moment but he doesn’t speak quite yet. He waits, considering words before he says them.

Not because he’s not supportive but, reiterating, “You don’t have anythin’ to prove.”

“I know, it wouldn’t be for anyone other than me.” And you mean that—it’s not like some big idea to somehow prove that you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of or that you’re giving in to sharing more of yourself because you feel like you have to.

It’s not about that. It’s about owning up to these pictures and…not feeling guilty. You’re a beautiful, strong woman who’s in love with her boyfriend and who isn’t going to be mortified into feeling remorseful for sending or accidently saving half naked pictures.

“Yeah, those pics were only meant for you…but I’m not going to let anyone make me feel bad for sending them.” And this is decided. You’re…not quite sure what this is going to translate into, exactly, but the point is? You’re going to figure it out. Your agent, Christina, has been texting you nonstop since it’s happened anyways—trying to figure out a plan of attack.

Well, you’ve got one.

Austin smiles down at you, curling your hair around your ear. He leans down and presses a small kiss to bridge of your nose, can see how proud he is about you coming to this decision in the blues of his eyes.

And really, that’s all you need to keep moving forward.

As suspected, Christina doesn't second-guess any of your ideas—she just gets to work. She wants to be able to help in any way that she can, and honestly that means a lot to you. Especially with Austin's support, you feel like you can do this. There's that little voice in the back of your head, of course, feeding insecurities, lying about how this will only make it worse and more humiliating for you. But you eventually swallow that down, because confidence is key, it's the whole point and narrative that Christina tells the fashion photographer that has them agreeing to do the spread and small info session afterwards. It's a very small message of empowerment, of owning those frustrating feelings and using them for something good. It's selfish, for sure, but you're hoping other women get something out of this—there's nothing about the female body to be embarrassed about.

You watch your eyes in the mirror as a makeup artist puts just a bit of blush high on your cheekbones—there's an iridescence to it that matches the lingerie you're wearing. Kinda reminds you of a mermaid, really, the scales part. It's a lavender lace teddy, sheer in some places, just enough to hint over to imagination—much like the in the photos you sent Austin.

Your stomach is swirling in anticipation. The photos come second, just a few different shots, again very closely related to the poses you sent Austin (all of this is on purpose) but first a meet n’ greet with the photographer to answer some questions. They go fast and then flashes of bright light settling in the back of your eyes and…once it’s all over, you kinda feel enthralled and completely anxious all at the same time. Nervous energy bubbling along your nerve endings as you see Austin lingering in the background.

You’re not sure what time he’s arrived but he’s smiling at you, moving into frame once the camera stops going off. He lovingly cups both sides of your face, leaning down to gently press a kiss against your lips. There’s the sound of a camera shutter, you’re almost sure, but you don’t care as your hands rest on his waist.

He doesn’t say anything but you realize he doesn’t have to? He’s looking down at you with a mixture of emotions that tell you everything. How beautiful he thinks you are, how proud he is, and everything in-between.

There’s a full body shot from the photoshoot that blows up—and it just so happens to be the candid photo that the photographer took of you and Austin at the end. It’s endearing and soft and while all the other photos are knockouts, it’s definitely your favorite because it conveys the title that goes along with the thread: ‘no place for shame’. Not that this was one hundred percent your end goal either, but admittedly it does feel good that fans have been reposting and tagging you in positive posts.

Austin has been with you every step of the way, has supported you with the intimacies of your relationship accidently ending up out in the open since it happened. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend to go through this with.

You’re just glad that it finally feels like it’s on the upend of blowing over. So what better time than to feel good and celebrate?

You linger against the doorframe of the living room, watching as Austin reads over a script for tomorrow. A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth, “Guess what?”

“Hmm?” He asks but doesn’t look up.

“I got to keep the lace teddy from the photoshoot.”

That gets Austin’s attention, he lifts his head in soft amusement, his eyes trailing over your form as you stand there wearing it. You smirk a little, playing with the thin lavender strings that tie together the bust. The soft mesh rests right along the tops of your thighs…and you’ve forgone underwear.

“You wouldn’t want to…take it off me, would you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

Austin slowly puts the script down, standing from the couch. He hums lightly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he walks towards you. Before you can say anything else, he leans down to kiss you, playfully lifting you up into his arms to walk you towards the bedroom.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #mccall writes things #elvis 2022 #mas

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madamefluffnstuff · 6 months ago

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TES Summerfest 2024, Day 2: Golden Secret

Day 2 of TES Summerfest 2024! Hosted by @tes-summer-fest.

I mean it's a day late but this week has been hectic.

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Online Pairing: None Rating: T Warning(s): Imprisonment, Captivity, Kind of sort of Kidnapping (it's Meridia, she's a spiteful hag, it comes with the territory), Gaslighting, Has a Happy Hopeful Ending I Swear (TM), Darien gives himself a second chance. Spoilers for the Daggerfall Covenant questline and the Summerset DLC. Words: 977 AN: Darien is a good source of angst but Divines I need to give him a chance at hope. And I need to quit making stuff that breaks my own heart, this can't be good for me. Or for my followers.

Darien is imprisoned by Meridia for trying to escape again and she locks him away. All he has are his thoughts to motivate him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the name "The Colored Rooms", the realm itself was... not very colorful. The only exception to the blues, greens, and browns was the brand new "prison cell" Meridia whipped up. This mockery of a Nirn jail was a porcelain-white hue with garish gold accents and bars, only big enough for a single prisoner.

Coincidentally, there was, in fact, a singular prisoner in the cell. His back pressed against the wall, wrists in shackles attached to said wall level with his head. As if just chains weren't bad enough, Meridia just had to put it where he could constantly see his hands, but not be able to use them.

"Well, now you've done it," Darien Gautier muttered to himself, glaring at the golden bars and crumpled paper sheets in front of him. He rolled his shoulders and clenched his fists to get some circulation flowing.

He cursed himself again for getting caught. He managed to get a few letters out, even a small pamphlet that somehow made its way to Summerset. But as he was about to send another letter, the Lady of Light discovered his little secret.

Meridia scolded him like a petulant child. Didn't he appreciate what she was doing for him? Saving his friends, keeping them alive? Dissuading the other Princes from coming after them? Giving them a chance to make a name for themselves?

Be the heroes they were meant to be?

Something about that last line made something snap in the back of his mind, and- in the heat of the moment- Darien leapt to his feet and did something he never thought he'd have the guts to do;

He talked back to a god.

What he actually said, he didn't remember. Couldn't remember, maybe. All he did remember was there being a solid ten seconds of stunned silence. Then a blinding white light. And finally, him waking up in the cell with a killer hangover-like headache and his arms in chains.

His memory as a whole was foggy most days, but he didn't dare to write any of it down for fear Meridia would find out and take that from him too. Little bits and pieces would come back here and there. Those fleeting memories were precious to him.

The Lion Guard taking down the werewolves in Camlorn. The liberation of Shornhelm with Countess Tamrith and Captain Jenaeve. When they almost lost the good Captain. Gwendis helping him find the smugglers' tunnels. Skordo calling him a "long-legged bastard", asking him to slow down when they were being chased.

Hearing second-hand Gabrielle mention to the Antiquarian's Guild how she wanted to save him.

"Gods DAMN IT ALL!" He nearly roared in frustration. The metal bar on the wall creaked as he leaned forward, gasping for air as he fought back frustrated tears. "Why... why is it... like this..."

Darien slumped back and slid down, the chains clinking and rattling as his eyes slowly closed in exhaustion. Whether or not he realized it, his tired body was forcing him to rest. He was simply too drained.

Then, without warning, it clicked: His friends. His comrades. Allies and fellow soldiers.

The entire Lion Guard, the Countess and her sister. Skordo the Knife. House Ravenwatch. Gabrielle. The late King Dynar. His own father, the General.

They were waiting for him. They were actively looking for him. He couldn't give up on them or himself. Not when so many people cared about him and were awaiting a miracle.

He opened his eyes warily, half expecting to see Meridia glowering at him. To his relief, she was nowhere to be seen. Darien decided to wait a few minutes to make sure there were no watch guards nearby where they could hear him. Then, slowly, he rocked himself enough to get on one knee. He balled his hands into fists and started to pull against the wall.

"Got to do this," he muttered in a voice just barely above audibility. "Have to... get out... Have to do it- nngh!- for them..."

Even Daedric metal has its limits. As he grunted and strained against his confines, Darien could hear the binds groaning. He grit his teeth;

"You can do it, Darien. Just- just a bit- more-!"

Without warning, the shackles on the wall snapped and shattered, the noise startling him a little as the support bar flew over his head and clattered on the floor. He looked at his hands in disbelief, he was really free? Fists clenched and unclenched. He didn't dare believe it.

Darien stood up on shaky legs, testing himself and his balance. Once he steadied, he rubbed his sore wrists and looked around. The coast was clear. He was more determined than ever now as he stalked over to the golden prison bars. A quick glance told him they were not as sturdy as they appeared far away. Another trick from Meridia?

It didn't matter now. His body moved somewhat automatically as the blood rushed through his veins, vigor and vim flowing through him. He grabbed two of the gold rods in an iron grip and pulled. The bare minimum effort was all it took to completely dislodge them. Suspicion took over a moment, this was too easy for his comfort.

Maybe Meridia didn't expect her protege to try to escape again and didn't bother to make them as strong. Psychological tactic, very similar to what he had seen a few times as a soldier. But he reminded himself it didn't matter right now. The chains were off, the bars removed, and a door was open. Darien took a cautious step outside the prison cell. Looking around, he was still in the clear.

When he turned back around, the jail was slowly fading into Oblivion.

He looked left, right, and made a mad dash for the pathway where he last spotted a portal to Nirn.

#tes summerfest 2024 #tesfest24 #eso #golden #secret #the elder scrolls #elder scrolls online #darien gautier #eso darien gautier #daedric prince #meridia #elder scrolls meridia #tw captivity #tw imprisonment #tw gaslighting #tw kidnap mention

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fastnights · 2 years ago

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what are we? part two

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: reader isn’t happy with where she stands with eddie

warnings: 18+ language, mentions of sex but not detailed, reader being hard on herself, eddie being a big jerk.

a/n: i see the love for the first part so here’s part two, i know i couldn’t end it the way i did without having this part so enjoy!!

i don’t give permission to copy my work!!

once you got home you quickly ran to your room and shut your door leaning your back against it as you slid down and sat down on the floor. you put your hands over your face and deeply sighed, being friend zoned hurts a lot, you thought that there was something there like a spark with you and eddie when you both shared those good lovely moments. you wondered why you pressured him so much to tell you what you two were instead of giving him time to think about it, you always asked him the same question with every opportunity you had with him.

you don’t think he know how you felt when he told you that he sees you just as a friend, like his exact same words echoed through your head, “if i’m being honest with you and myself, i say i see us being friends.” like hearing that replay through your mind just hurts, you were hoping for something more than friendship if you were being honest with yourself but you know eddie probably know you caught feelings for him now by how the way you walked out his trailer so fast.

you thought if you didn’t pressured him many times would he still said the same thing? all these what if’s started to circulate around in your head. you actually felt bad that you pressured him with every chance you had when you were around him, you had to know where you both stand and today you found out and he friend zoned you. you guess he felt like we’re better off as friends and not more which is bullshit.

you sat on your floor for a couple while longer still having that moment replaying in your head and our mind constantly going back to those times you and eddie shared those special moments mostly what a friend with benefits type of thing. you never bothered to ask him during that time because you didn’t want to ruin the moment, you didn’t realize someone was knocking on your room door knocking you right out of your thoughts. you sighed as you got up not really wanting to open up the door.

when you opened your room door, you couldn’t believe who was standing right there in front of you, it was eddie himself. you didn’t let him inside you stood in the doorway trying to figure out why is he standing right here in front of your room.

“eddie what are you doing here and how did you get in here?”

“first hi, nice to see you too and second can you let me in your room so we can talk?”

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, i’m not in the mood to actually talk to you right-"

“look y/n i know what i said to you earlier at my place hurt you because i saw the look on your face the exact time the words came out of my mouth.”

“and your point is? you see us as friends you made that pretty much clear.”

you was getting a little heated up like he shows up wanting to talk about what happened, you’re really not in the mood to talk to him and you know he’s gonna get some words out of you. he pushed you back and walked inside of your room and closed the door behind him, he walked over to your bed and sat down while he looked over at you.

“you don’t know how many times you asked me that shit with every chance you had, i had enough time to think about since i been pressured by you which is why i just see you as a friend, then i realized something y/n.”

“and what exactly is that?”

“i think you like me, you was hoping i say something along the lines of relationship.”

“you got to be kidding me right? me like you eddie? no way.”

“you suck at lying girl, stop it. i can see right through you and i know you do. but i don’t do relationships, but i did think we had this friends with benefits kind of thing going on but that’s it.”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing right from his mouth, you felt like breaking down again but right in front of him and didn’t even care, what kind of sick asshole would say something like that. you was tired of his nonsense he needed to leave right now.

“eddie you need to leave.”

“i came here to-.”

“eddie just leave now, i don’t care about what you have to say anymore, i thought you came here to make things better but i was wrong, get out of my fucking room and my house!”

you walked over to your door and swing it open, you watched him as he got off your bed and walked out of your room, you waited until you hear him go out of your house.

you really couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say something like that to you, but he was right you’re not good at lying but it shocked you to know that he knows you like he from the way that you acted when you left his place, nobody wants to be friendzoned, it’s not a good feeling. but you don’t think you’d be claiming him as a friend anymore not after what he told you.

he just saw you as someone he can fuck with without catching feelings, but that wasn’t enough for you, you caught feelings for him during those times you both shared them moments, right now you’re regretting ever letting him see you, you felt disgusted by him now. you don’t get why he chose to say those things to you like he wasn’t expecting you to react or something. he really made things even more worse between you and him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!blackreader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson gifs #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson gif

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genuine-wrestleboy · 2 years ago

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freeze or fawn (2/2)

words: 4,110

hey, god! if ao3 going down right as i finished this was meant to be you trying to tell me something, i am simply not listening <3

(on ao3)

You watch your mug spin in the microwave, the day-old coffee inside steaming to gelatinous perfection. There’s a sort of ridiculous camaraderie to it; you watch the coffee, and in the reflection in the glass door, Springtrap watches you. You can feel the cold intensity of his gaze, gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

The microwave whirs on, and you pick nervously at your cuticles.

“Thirty years is a long time,” you say, mostly just to fill the silence.

“It's a very long time,” he confirms dryly.

“And what is remnant, exactly?”

He sighs. “That explanation would also be very long, and I doubt you would even understand most of what I could tell you.”

“Try me,” you offer.

“Later,” he says firmly. “Are you quite done yet?”

“Almost,” you tell him, “I just, hold on—”

You cancel the rest of the time and grab for the mug, burning your fingers a little and half-dropping it onto the countertop with a quiet “ow, fuck". You don't even want to consider what the reaction would be if you started pulling out pans to cook a proper breakfast, so you fish a box of cereal out of the cupboard and resign yourself to eating it dry.

Something occurs to you, and you turn to Springtrap, tucking the box under your arm.

“Do you want anything? Can you, like, eat? Other than, uh—” You clear your throat. “—you know.”

You watch the change in his posture as the implication of your words sinks in. He pinches two fingers against the bridge of his muzzle, like he’s staving off a headache.

“I liked it better when you were afraid of me.”

You laugh a little deliriously, because you can’t not. Does he really think you're not still afraid of him? You’re terrified, but, well. He’d just eaten you out on your aunt’s kitchen floor, you thought maybe you could establish a rapport.

It’s just impossible to get a read on him, is the thing, to know where your bearings lie. All that threatening anger and violence, and then he’ll catch you off-guard with these stunning little moments of gentleness, of kindness or comfort or affection. Brief little pops of warmth that pass as quickly as they come and leave you stumbling after him for more, your adrenaline on a wildly oscillating loop. No safe place to land, to rest long enough to recalibrate.

“Sorry, I’m still a little—” You make a vague, waving gesture near your head. “I thought you were gonna kill me, so. Taking a while to adjust.”

“I may well still kill you,” he tells you without heat.

“I—okay." How are you supposed to respond to that? “I’d rather you didn’t, for what it’s worth.”

He makes a sort of shrugging gesture. “As for your question, I don't believe I am capable of digestion in my current state, no.”

That doesn’t surprise you, you guess. From your cursory, stolen glimpses you’d be surprised if there was enough left of his digestive tract left intact to begin with, never mind how any of it would still be functional. Honestly now that you’re thinking about it you could probably say the same of anything under that suit—only, you’ve definitely heard him breathe, haven’t you? Did his lungs somehow miraculously escape the damage that befell the rest of him? Does he need to breathe? He’s not constantly bleeding out, so you assume whatever blood might be left in there isn’t actively circulating, but you can’t do it with any real confidence.

On that note, though, does it even matter? You don't understand how he's still upright at all, you can't even begin to guess the rules his body might follow now. If it’s—whether it’s all still connected, or if it should work, does that count for anything one way or the other? And if it doesn't, or if it is, could he—

Oh, no, no, are you insane? You're absolutely not thinking about that right now, you are shutting that line of speculation down immediately.

“You’re ready now, I take it?”

You startle, feeling caught, grab your coffee and nod. Just gonna…let all of that go, for now, then.

"Yep. What are we looking for?"

"Tools." He's entrusted your superior knowledge of the house's layout with tracking down what he cagily referred to as 'necessary supplies'. "A toolkit, if there's one to be had, but I can make do with a screwdriver and my wits, if needs must."

Your mood soars; you've got good news for him.

"I don’t think they’ll must,” you say. "I’m pretty sure I remember seeing all my uncle's old tools in the garage when I parked yesterday. Not that I doubt your wits,” you add, and the absurdity of attempting to flirt with someone who has expressed a passing interest in your death isn’t lost on you.

Springtrap stills like you’ve surprised him, looks you up and down.

“Well, then. In that case it seems like the least I can do not to doubt your memory, hm?"

That's a risk at the best of times, but thankfully, this time, your memory does comes through for you; you flick on the yellowy garage lights to reveal a sturdy black workbench pushed into the far corner, collecting dust beneath neatly organized rows of hammers, wrenches, pliers, and a few very specific-looking tools you don't recognize that hang from a pegboard bolted to the wall. Excitement and relief fizz through your veins, and you turn to Springtrap with a grin.

“Will this work?” You’re angling for a sign of approval, and it’s probably painfully obvious.

He scans the room and laughs, not entirely kindly. You flinch a little when he reaches out, but it's almost reverent when he takes your face in one huge hand, strokes a thumb along your cheek.

“Well done,” he says with feeling.

You had absolutely no hand in acquiring any of the tools in question, and even less in making sure that they stayed around for him to find, but fuck if the praise doesn’t get under your skin and flood straight down.

“Happy to help,” you reply weakly.

He taps you slyly under the chin. “That’s the spirit. Come along.”

You follow him down into the garage, edging around the nose of your car. Leave, comes the thought, sudden and unbidden, get in the car and get the fuck out of there, but how would you even do that? Even if you wanted to leave, your keys are in the house, and anyway Springtrap needs you—he told you that he does, sort of.

Maybe he’d find you again, your brain suggests, and you think about that hand on your face, that glow of praise, pressing your own palm against your cheek as you feel heat rising into it. This is not the time, you tell yourself firmly, to say nothing of whether or not there should ever be a time at all, but it doesn’t do much to relieve the nebulous desire reforming in your belly.

By the bench, Springtrap fiddles with the latch of a dented red toolbox. You’ve noticed before, but he seems to have trouble with movements that require any higher degree of fine motor control in his hands. He is also very clearly irritated by this fact, so you keep this observation to yourself. Eventually he lets out a snarl and rips the latch off the box altogether, chucking it over his shoulder to vanish into the nooks and crannies of the garage.

“May as well make yourself comfortable,” he tells you, leaning in to examine the newly revealed contents, “I imagine we’ll be here for quite a while.”

“Aye aye.” Carefully balancing your mug by the wipers, you hoist yourself up onto the hood of your car, pressing your legs together self-consciously. For a while you just sit there, sipping the now-lukewarm coffee and picking at your cereal, watching Springtrap work. He peels back a section of matted fur to expose the joint of his wrist, measures out an inch of a clear liquid, and dips the corner of a rag into it. The cloth turns black with the grime of years, blood and rust and who knows what else as he rubs it into the protesting metal. When he’s satisfied, he sets it aside and positions the head of a screwdriver against a screw you can’t quite see, and then adjusts the whole limb under the lamp clamped to the bench, out of your view completely.

Fascinating though the process promises to be, you’re pretty sure you’d only be in the way if you ask him to move so you can watch what he’s doing. You lean back against the windshield instead, and exhaustion crashes into you the instant you’re in something resembling a reclined position. It’s been a long morning, and the caffeine you just ingested hasn’t begun to work its magic quite yet. Plus, your night on the sofa hadn’t exactly been a restful one. You’ve been running on nothing but adrenaline for hours now; sleep, when it comes, hits you fast and hard.

You wake with your neck at an angle that barely feels survivable, flooded with impotent panic from a nightmare you barely remember. The back of your head smacks against the glass of the windshield as you jolt back into consciousness, and you cradle it gingerly in one hand, pulling yourself upright.

Springtrap looks over from where he’s leaning against the workbench, fighting something at his hip with a pair of needle-nose pliers.

“You fell asleep.” It isn’t anger, but there’s something odd in his voice that prickles along your skin like being too close to a fire.

“Sorry.” You have no idea why you’re apologizing. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.”

He tilts his head to one side, eyes flat and sharp in a way that sparks a cold, guttering fear in your chest.

“I could’ve done anything to you,” he informs you, still with that strange, keen edge to it.

“Sorry,” you say again, because you’re not sure what else to say. “Did—can I help at all?”

Backlit by the bench lamp, his unchanging smile seems to grow in shadow, longer, hungrier.

“If you’re offering.” He twists his wrist, and a section of suit paneling by his pelvis comes loose and swings open. “Come here, give me your hand.”

You maneuver your way back to the floor, careful to avoid upsetting the remnants of your makeshift breakfast. You do want to help, to be useful to him, but placing your hand in his feels like putting it in the mouth of a lion and trusting it not to bite.

Laughing softly, Springtrap reels you closer, muzzle butting your face as he takes several hot, gulping breaths against your skin. His other hand abandons the pliers to press at the small of your back, fingertips biting through the fabric of your shirt.

“You smell afraid.” He says it like an endearment.

“I—” you stammer, “I'm—oh, oh.”

Your line of thinking stalls hard, that rising tide of fear dissolving in the wake of the long, low groan that all but pours out of him as he guides your hand to his cock. Shock, bitten-back and swallowed, the simmering desire in you rising like a white-water tide. Your knees tremble traitorously beneath you.

"Is something wrong?” he purrs. “I thought you wanted to help."

“I do,” you say breathlessly. His hand at your back feels like the only thing that’s holding you upright.

Springtrap’s fingers fold over yours, inhuman and irresistible, and he growls into the crook of your neck as he pumps himself lazily with your fist.

“So help.”

Well, you suppose, there's that question answered, at least.

He feels huge in your hand, only half-hard and already too thick for you to get your fingers all the way around. Your pulse pounds in your ears, between your legs, in the palm of your hand. Springtrap shifts forward as you move experimentally, twisting your wrist to cover as much of his shaft as you can.

“Harder,” he hisses encouragingly. “My nerve endings aren’t what they used to be, you know.”

It shouldn't be sexy, that reminder, but he runs a claw up your spine as he says it, little sparks along a willing fuse, and you shiver and tighten your grip until his hips stutter forward and he lets out a loose, throaty moan.

"There you are, darling. Just like that."

The endearment makes a molten mess of your insides, all the blood in your body rushing downwards so quickly that it makes you dizzy. You're still wet from earlier, and between that headstart and the way Springtrap's cock twitches in your hand, you're mortifyingly close to leaking down your own leg like you're in heat.

As if noticing, Springtrap presses a merciful knee between yours, chuckling when you immediately begin to grind against his thigh. The suit catches and pinches at your shorts, your skin, but that matters far less than the welcome pressure against your clit.

"You want my cock that badly?" He catches your chin in his hand, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your mouth drops open. It's all you can do to nod in response, bearing down against his thigh as you work him with long, sloppy strokes. You imagine that girth on your tongue, heavy and hot, and you feel your mouth start to water, drool pooling hungrily in its stead.

"Filthy," Springtrap murmurs against your hair, his tone warm with dark approval that throbs between your legs.

"Please," you try to say, or "yes" or "god", but it comes out a needy, open-mouthed mishmash of sound, wordless and hoarse. Pleasure builds like syrup, thick and slow, hips and hand rocking at the same mindless, driving rhythm. You can feel the wet spot you’re leaving on his fur, clutching at his arm to keep your balance as your legs start to shake. You feel—god, you feel empty.

Metal screeches and smashes to the floor as Springtrap clears the workbench with one swift swipe of his arm. You jump back, startled, swallowing a frustrated whine at the interruption.

Reaching out, he drags a claw slowly, slowly along the line of your throat, and when he speaks, his voice is calm, but brittle, fast-flowing water under very thin ice.

“Normally, I would take my time with this, but I’m understandably a bit pent up, so if you wouldn’t mind.” He pats the surface of the bench expectantly.

Heat floods your face when you realize what he’s asking, eager anticipation buzzing in your blood. You move to obey; he catches you by the waistband of your shorts.

"Take these off," he says. "Quickly, before I tear them off you."

Oh, you are not opposed to that idea, at all, actually. Your eyes flick up to his, breath catching, and your expression must give you away, because his grip on you tightens, and he laughs, low and amused.

"I might’ve guessed."

The fabric of your shorts pulls apart like paper. Even though you know it’s coming, it still startles a cry out of you. Springtrap crowds you back against the workbench, hands bracketing your hips and moving upwards. Your shirt rucks up around his wrists, and he dips his head to nuzzle against your temple with a pleased hum.

“This too,” he says, which is all the warning you get before your shirt goes the same way. Your skin, newly bare, fever hot, prickles in the cool air of the garage, and for a moment you feel like you should cover yourself with your hands.

Then Springtrap hitches you up and drops you onto the bench, fingers divoting your thighs as he pulls your hips flush together. Your head falls back, and you bite out a soft moan as the full length of him slides against you, slick with your arousal. He feels even bigger between your legs than he had in your hand.

“Look at me.” It’s clear from his voice that he’s trying very, very hard to hold himself together.

You look. His eyes burn at you, at this angle almost mirrored. The visible muscles of his neck tense, shoulders taut as he draws himself over you and stills. Beneath that gaze, the broad shadow of his body, you feel cracked open and bare, something soft and helpless shucked from a shell. He rolls his hips forward once, twice, and a shudder goes through you.

“Tell me you want this.”

Without meaning to, your eyes fall, pulled to where his cock parts your folds. His skin is the same mottled purple here as everywhere else, blotchy and dark, and the fluid that leaks from the tip is cloudy and pungent and thick. You imagine it pressing into you, and the ache of desire is almost matched by a sudden, urgent fear. Your words stick in your throat, and he tilts his head to the side, sneering.

"Don't play coy with me now, you were gagging for it a moment ago."

That does something twisting and strange to your stomach. You don’t want him to stop, but you realize you don't entirely believe that he would if you asked him to.

"I want it," you say weakly, then surer, "I want it."

He leans even closer, forcing your legs apart until it edges on painful, lowering his face as if he's about to kiss you.

"What do you want?" Sweet as spun sugar in his terrible wreck of a voice.

You whimper, rocking your hips upwards desperately. “I want—hn!—I want your cock, I want—please, I want it so badly.”

Springtrap touches your cheek with his fingertips, feather-light and fond. He shifts back, and you feel the blunt, solid pressure of him at your entrance, barely enough to tease, and it's already so much and nowhere near enough, you need, you need—

“Go on, then. Beg for it."

You think you could come like this, untouched, to nothing but the sound of his voice.

You would really, really prefer to be touched, though.

"Please," you sob breathlessly. Your cunt clenches on empty air. “Please, god, please fuck me, I’ll do any—anything, please, I need you inside me, please, please.”

Springtrap’s teeth glint behind the mask.

“Now what man could resist, when you ask like that?”

A brief burst of pain, and then gutted, boneless pleasure; you clutch at his shoulders as he fucks you open, needy, gasping moans shallowing your lungs. The slow stretch floods you with warmth until you're drunk with it, liquid and loose. Heavy, hazy heat, the contents of your skull bleeding soupily together, your whole world nothing but that hungry, spreading fullness. Your body, reshaping itself to fit him.

"Fuck, you're so big." The thought tumbles out as it occurs to you, and Springtrap snarls and hilts himself in one harsh, sudden motion, muzzle pressed so tightly to your neck that it bites into your skin.

You suck in a breath through clenched teeth. It's just the wrong side of too much, too fast, but he gives you no time to recover before he starts moving again. Both paws dig a constellation of bruises into your hips as he pins you to the bench, skin slapping yours as he bottoms out on every thrust. You feel shattered, cracked apart, bleeding light into his palms. He sets a brutal pace, driving into your eager cunt with untiring speed until you’re mewling beneath him, overwhelmed with sensation as discomfort cedes again to building sweetness.

"That's right,” he coos. “You'll take it for me, won't you?"

You gasp, nodding through shocks of pleasure. “Yes, yes, please.”

“Yes, yes,” he mimics, teasing—then lower, as you arch up to meet him, “yes.”

That rough syllable echoes in the cage of your ribs. Springtrap rolls his hips forward, deliberate and slow, rutting blissful friction against your neglected clit. A thin, keening sound falls from your lips, and you hook your ankles around his back, closer closer closer like the twin of your rabbiting heartbeat.

Breath rumbling low in his throat, Springtrap curves forward, pulling your hips off the bench entirely. The new angle draws him in impossibly deep, and his cock brushes something that sings bone-deep through you, your whole body fizzling like a live spark. You grasp for purchase around his neck, and his even rhythm falters and fails.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, canting your hips desperately upwards.

Springtrap bites down hard against your shoulder, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming hungrily back into you. The force of it wrings a hoarse moan from your lungs and shoves the whole workbench back a screeching inch. You wonder distantly if you’ll be able to walk after this.

“Oh, darling,” he chuckles. “That was never an option.”

You feel yourself clench around him, and Springtrap groans, hips stuttering. He moves against you, picking up speed, breath ragged and hot against the crook of your neck. Higher and higher, rushing pleasure climbs your spine like the swell of a wave as he fucks you full of helium and heat, of him and him and him, until it feels like there’s no room in you for anything else.

“So tight for me,” he growls, voice rough. “Only for me.”

“God,” you whimper. Maybe part of you wants to protest the possessive words, but most of you is busy feeling like you're about to burst out of your own skin.

“You like that thought, do you?” he asks, and you nod frantically.

"I—ah!—yes." You're close, you're so fucking close—

Springtrap grinds into you, steady, unrelenting pressure, building and building without relief. He lets out a harsh breath by your ear, but his voice is soft and confiding when he speaks, like he's sharing a secret.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

He doesn't even slow as you come, howling, around him, fucking you through the aftershocks at that same merciless pace until you’re trembling and spent. You feel like you’ve been split apart and thrown in a thousand different directions, like it’s only his hands on your skin keeping you together. Weakly, you take his face in your hands and kiss the ruined nose, the corner of his grinning mouth; he turns to butt his muzzle against you with a sound somewhere between a snarl and a sob.

“Take it,” he hisses, and understanding hits you a beat too late.

“Wait—” you manage limply; Springtrap laughs like nearing thunder.

"Shhhh. Whatever I want, remember?"

You sob a feeble “fuck” as his hips hit yours, and your cunt fills with spurts of warmth. It's a foreign, electric feeling, and you rock against him mindlessly, the last of your breath escaping you in a weak, panting moan. His cock twitches and throbs, emptying into you as you shudder in his arms, held up easy as a doll. The sound you make would be mortifying, if you had a single brain cell to spare for it.

Springtrap pulls out just as pleasure edges into overstimulation. You wince at the strangeness of the feeling as he sets you down, the soreness already blooming, the sticky wetness that seeps out to pool on the bench beneath you. A huge hand palms high up on your thigh, the gaze behind it lazy and appraising. Then two fingers stroke a line from your ass to your entrance, and you let out a hiss of discomfort as they press a generous amount of come back inside you.

“What a mess,” tsks Springtrap, presenting the fingers to you. You open your mouth dutifully, but he seems to change his mind, instead wiping his soiled hand ineffectually against your leg. “You really ought to get yourself cleaned up. There’s still work to do, after all.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised, it’s the same one-eighty he pulled on you last time, already back to business while your brain is still leaking out of your ears. You let out a frustrated huff, and he tilts his head to the side, eyes glittering curiously.

“I—would you, just, like, come here a second? Please.”

He pauses at your request, then hovers closer, and you have to close your eyes against the bright scalpel-blade of his gaze. The new smells of hot metal and grease sit thick over the smoke and decay, stinging your nose as you bury your face against his shoulder and take a deep breath. You wet your lips; they taste like blood.

After a moment, you feel Springtrap wrap an arm around your waist, then your shoulders. If you lean into it just so, it even feels like an embrace.

#springtrap x reader #springtrap fnaf #springtrap #fnaf springtrap #just a silly little bonus chapter where you get railed #my fic

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