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orphicdreamers-wp · 4 months

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Crowded Room — Ethan Edwards

Summary; In which Ethan never thought of you like that until he saw you show up to a party with a football player

Content Warning: 18+ Content, Smut, oral sex(f receiving), p in v sex, filth, slight degradation, hair pulling, choking, used of ‘sir’ ‘whore’ ‘slut’, mirror sex, unprotected sex(don’t be silly y’all), creampie (🫣), breeding kink, mentions of birth control, religious mentions(really quickly), JJ McCarthy getting caught in the crossfire, possessive JJ, cheating(? not really, reader and jj have gone on like 2 dates) loosely based on Lovin On Me By Jack Harlow

Pairing; Ethan Edwards & Fem Reader

You were tucked beneath JJ’s broad shoulder as you entered the fraternity house. You guys were immediately greeted with the smell of alcohol and marijuana. JJ’s grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you closer to his body. You two mingled with various athletes and a few of your sorority sisters as you made your way into the kitchen. You smiled softly at Ethan as you saw him pouring some concoction into a plastic cup as your voice came out softly, “Hey Eth.”

Ethan had been in your Ethics in sports class since freshman year and for some reason your professor always paired you two up for partner work. You would be lying in you said that you didn’t notice how attractive the hockey player was. He had the biggest and softest brown eyes you’d seen. He always had on that stupid hat and his beautiful dark hair sticking out. Anyone with eyes could see that Ethan Edwards was an attractive guy.

Ethan had never seen you as anything more than a friend. You were kind, funny and the first sorority girl he’d met that truly understood the concept of hockey. You had always been a friend to the brown haired hockey player. But you stood a mere five feet away from him, clad in a low cut cropped cheetah print top that accentuated your breasts perfectly, like the shirt was molded around your body. A fair amount of your stomach was out until it met the short leather skirt that had Ethan’s pants constricting his lower hips.

Ethan had never thought about it before but in that moment all he was thinking about was bending you over the counter and fucking the shit out of you, without a care in the world that JJ McCarthy seemed to be staking his claim on you in the kitchen. The way you said his name made him feel ridiculous for never thinking about you in this capacity. But surely you’d never thought of him that way right?

Ethan raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as he saw the grip JJ held on your hip. He could see the intensity of the hold by the skin visible between the hem of your top and the your skirt. He also noticed how JJ’s eyes were glued to him as you watched him intently. Ethan pressed the cup to his lips, “Hey Y/N, McCarthy. Didn’t know y’all were a thing.” You went to open your mouth to say that you weren’t, that tonight was your like 3rd date, when JJ spoke, “It’s new, right babe?” Your heart was beating up into your throat as you nodded, “Yep, good seeing you Eth. I have to use the ladies room.”

You looked up into JJ’s piercing blue eyes and unglued yourself from his side. You slipped out of the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed by JJ’s sudden influx of testosterone he’d felt the urge to show. You walked down the seemingly never ending hallway. You entered the bathroom and went to shut the door only for a hand to stop you. You looked up, taken aback as Ethan stood in the doorway, “Are you okay?” You felt your throat clam up, “‘M all good Eth.” Ethan shut and locked the door to the bathroom behind him as he leaned against it while you stood in front of the mirror, “Your a shitty liar Y/N. What’s going on in your pretty little head?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “I don’t even know. I’m not dating JJ by the way.” Ethan laughed heartily, “I gathered, you looked like you just shit your pants when he called you babe. Most girls don’t have that reaction.” You laughed, “Can I be honest for a minute?” Ethan grinned, “I’ve never known you to not be honest. What’s up?” You giggled nervously, partially tipsy from the bottle of Pink Whitney you had pregamed with at your sorority before leaving the house for this party.

“I’m kinda nervous being alone with you right now.” Ethan frowned, immediately feeling bad, initially believing he’d made you uncomfortable, “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I can go.” You shook your head, “No it’s not you. Well not like that.” Ethan raised an eyebrow as he walked across the room and stopped next to you, “What’s wrong then?” You laughed slightly, “Being alone with you makes me nervous because your hot and I’m tipsy but I’m pretty sure this is how a handful of my wet dreams have started.”

Ethan laughed breathily, “So I make you nervous with my fleeting sex appeal? Good to know.” You rolled your eyes, “See this is why I should have kept my mouth shut. You never take anything seriously.” Ethan stood in front of you, keeping you from moving away from the counter. He placed a hand on your bare skin, “Trust me pretty, I’m taking this very seriously. Hop up on the counter for me.” You pressed your back against the mirror as Ethan dropped to his knees.

Your breath hitched as his warm breath traveled up your legs as he pressed soft wet kisses up your legs. By the time he reached your knees, you legs spread further giving Ethan easier access to your thighs and soaking core. An pornographic groan left Ethan’s mouth as his lips neared your burning core. He looked up at with his beautiful brown eyes lit up by desire, “Is this okay?” You groaned at his question, “God yes, please.” Ethan pushed your skirt up further as he pulled your panties down in one swift motion.

Your hand’s immediately flew to Ethan’s head, removing his hat and setting it near the sink as your fingers threaded through his hair as his tongue met the bundle of nerves that had a coil forming in your stomach. Ethan hummed as he pulled away, “So wet for me. Such a whore, letting me take you in a bathroom.” You felt yourself clench around the air as Ethan’s fingers slid inside of your dripping cunt. You felt a unrecognizable moan leave your lips as you clamped your legs around Ethan’s head as he began to lap up your juices as you came down from your high.

You breathed heavily as you leaned your head against the mirror and panted, “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.” Ethan laughed, “Don’t worry it’s hot.” You rolled your eyes, “I cannot believe I did that. Oh god, I’m like a total whore.” Ethan pressed a kiss against your lips, “Sorry I just really wanted you to stop talking.” You groaned as you pulled him into a passionate kiss, your core clenching as you shamelessly grinded against him. Ethan pressed his hands on your hips, “Are you sure?” You reached down to unzip your skirt letting it fall to the ground as you pulled Ethan into you, “I’ve never been more sure of something.”

Ethan groaned as he pulled his shorts down and kicked them to the side. You hummed to yourself as Ethan rummaged through the drawers in search of a condom, only to come up empty handed. You groaned as you pulled him by his shirt to you, “I have an IUD, please just fuck me Eth. I need you inside me so badly.”

Ethan practically groaned at your words, “Such a desperate little slut for me. Just begging for me to fuck you raw in a random party bathroom. Didn’t peg you for a freak.” You groaned as you clenched your thighs together, “Damn it would you just fuck me already or do I need to have JJ come do that?” Ethan scoffed as he turned you to face the mirror as he adjusted himself behind you.

You felt a sharp breath leave your mouth as Ethan slid into you. Your chest tightening as he bottomed out inside you. Ethan’s hands found their way to your hips, fingers digging into your skin, harshly enough to leave bruises. A groan leaving his mouth, “You feel so good. Clenching around me, such a little slut.” You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head as Ethan’s hips began to move rhythmically. As sharp gasp left your lips as Ethan pulled at your hair, bringing your back pressed against his chest. A soft groan emitted from Ethan’s lips into your ear. You smirked pridefully, “Did I just hear Mr Ethan Edwards who has a reputation for never moaning during sex, moan?” Ethan rolled his eyes, “Shut up before I pull out.” You whines lightly at his words, “Please, alright fine sir. Just don’t stop.”

You felt Ethan tighten his grip on your hair, “Call me that again, please.” You grinned, learning Ethan’s soft spot in bed. A soft moan leaving your lips as your eyes screwed shut as you fell into the bathroom counter, “Oh god right there. Don’t stop please sir.” Ethan’s hand found it’s way around your throat, holding just tight enough to make you feel pressure but loose enough your air supply wasn’t compromised. You clenched around Ethan’s cock as he pounded up into your pussy.

You let out a pornographic moan, “Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” Ethan groaned as he breathed heavily, “I’m there too. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” You groaned at his words, previously believing it was impossible to become more wet, “Cum in me Eth, I need it. Need to feel you inside me.” Ethan groaned, “I could get your pregnant right now given the chance.” You let out another moan as you felt the coil building in your stomach burst as you clenched around his cock. Your orgasm triggering Ethan’s as he came following you.

You leaned against the counter, ass bare in the air as Ethan’s cum dropped down your thighs. You finally caught your breath and grinned as Ethan got a few square of paper towel and began to wipe his cum off of your legs and helped you back into your skirt and panties. You sighed as you two made your way out of the bathroom. A sinking feeling built in your stomach as it hit you, you’d have to explain to JJ where you’d gone off to for nearly an hour.

The sinking feeling dissipated when you found JJ sprawled across the couch with a redhead perched on his lap making out. You let out a sigh of relief as Ethan draped his arm on your shoulder, “Back to another crowded room we go.” You had expected him to enter the room and abandon you to go back to his teammates and brag over the easy lay he got, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you over to his friends. A small smile forming on your face as he sat down and pulled you into his lap as he watched some of his teammates play beer pong.

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #umich blurbs #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich boys #ethan edwards hockey #ethan edwards #ethan edwards smut #jj mccarthy

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cherrychilli · 2 months

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18+

Steddie x AFAB reader, exhibitionism, wet-t shirt contest(kinda), allusions to group sex(mmf), mentions of alcohol and weed but it's all consensual baby

a/n: what is this you may ask? good question. So there I was, three beers in, thinking about Steve's tits and well, I ended up typing this out real quick. Enjoy.

"Steve, it really wouldn't be much of a contest", you tell him for the second time, rolling your eyes like it might help you get your point across better. It doesn't.

"I'm telling you I could beat you", he persists because Steve Harrington was never one to roll over so easily.

"And I'm telling you there's no way in hell"

"You're pretty sure of yourself, huh?"

"Yup. And I'll give you two good reasons why", you stick out your chest like it wasn't already obvious.

Steve scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you, showing no sign of backing down even when his knee bumps the side of the coffee table, nearly tipping what's left of both your beers over.

That's what had started this whole thing. A few too many drinks and a drunken crack about who had the most distracting tits out of the two of you. Who would have known it would have escalated into this.

"You guys know there's only one way to settle this right?", a third voice intervenes, at the end of which hangs a joint pinched between plush pink lips.

You both turn to Eddie then, noticing the way he's sprawled out on the couch, hands behind his head, looking all kinds of amused by the two of you bickering.

"He's right", Steve says, turning back to you, determination burning bright in his eyes. You challenge him with a fiery stare of your own, hands on your hips. "Outside. Now.", you grit out.

You both begin marching outside but not before you yell out to Eddie. "Eddie! get the hose!"

---

"Okay, so it's agreed. I'm the impartial judge and whoever wins uh...wins. We didn't really come up with a prize did we?", Eddie scratches at the day old stubble peppering his chin as he ponders.

"Just spray us man", Steve deadpans, pulling the other boy out of whatever fleeting thought he'd been occupied with.

Eddie does as he's told and he smirks while doing it, spraying the two of you down in Steve's back yard, your white t-shirt's turning translucent in seconds. You make a show of it as the water hits you, running your fingers through your dripping wet hair, your movements thick with allure, letting your tits jiggle and bounce in your skin tight t-shirt. You know how much both Eddie and Steve liked it when you made them bounce, their eyes always fixed on your chest even when you did something as ordinary as coming down the stairs or heading out for a jog.

This should be an easy win. Right?

You realize quickly though that perhaps you'd been a bit too cocky. You'd thought the win would be guaranteed yours until you got an eyeful of Steve, his glistening tanned skin and toned muscle showing through his wet t-shirt in that Grecian god kind of way. Typical.

The contours of his defined pecs and his ample chest hair showing through have you second guessing yourself, his nipples hard like yours and hair still stylish even when wet. Suddenly you weren't so sure you could clinch the win now and for a second, just a second, you didn't care. He was definitely a sight and you could tell that Eddie thought so too, his eyes darting between the two of you, managing to look both ecstatic and unsure.

"Well? who's it gonna be Munson?", Steve places a hand on his hips and you can't help but notice how his ass looks even better in wet jeans, the same way they think yours does in your wet shorts.

It's going to be a close call.

Two sets of eyes look expectantly at the dry metalhead for his verdict, a shiver running through you as the breeze starts to pick up.

"Gotta call a tie on this one", he answers in a way he hoped would be decisive, unable to pick between the two of you when truly you both looked as good as the other.

"What? no way!", you protest, folding your arms under your breasts, drawing the attention of both boys as they eye your chest.

"Yeah, you gotta pick one", Steve agrees, reluctantly tearing his gaze away and back to Eddie, clearly unsatisfied with the result.

Eddie looks thoughtful for a while, his eyes lighting up in a lightbulb moment. "If you're so hungry for a win how about you two wrestle in the mud for it?", he does a poor job of masking his obvious leering and you know too well that the suggestion has little to do with settling the score and everything to do with making one of his wet dreams come true.

Steve and you share a look then, equal parts knowing and mischievous. "You thinking what I'm thinking?", he asks you, prompting Eddie to quirk up an eyebrow as he watches your exchange curiously.

"Oh, definitely", you tell him, the both of you springing into action.

In a matter of seconds, Steve gets a hold of Eddie with ease, drawing his arms behind his back and holding them in place, the weed making the darker haired boy too slow to anticipate or counter Steve's movements.

"Hey what the hell-", Eddie's cut off when he gets a face full of water once you've grabbed a hold of the hose, mercilessly spraying him down until his black t-shirt and grey sweats turn drenched.

Surprised shouts turn to peals of belly aching laughter as each of you try to snatch the hose out of the other's grasp, chasing the remaining two down to spray them even more.

Sometime later the hose is abandoned altogether and wet clothes are discarded haphazardly throughout the yard and though there's no wrestling in the mud today, the three of you take your time engaging in a different kind of group activity on Steve's back patio -- one in which you all end up winners.

#eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steddie smut #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things

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sunflowersteves · 2 years

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listen. i know everyone thinks eddie gets bitches left and right (and maybe he does) but i still love the idea of him being kind of easily skiddish/flustered when someone he really really likes starts coming onto him, dont even get me started on if theyre actually gonna get it on

STOP BC I LOVE THIS!! sin saturday <3

warnings || smut!!, shy!eddie, virgin!eddie, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ only

“C-Can I?”

It seems such an innocent question, but everything about the situation was far from it. Eddie had you propped up on a coffee stained pillow and dirty band practice blanket on the floor of his van.

The air smelled of cigarettes and weed—the pungent smell flowing through and sticking to your clothes that were long gone on the floor.

His brown eyes looked at you so lovingly—so passionately as if the burning question that left off of his lips was making him go stir crazy.

And he was, because of you. You were on the floor of his van—body glistening beneath the rays of the moon. You looked so ethereal as his hands dug onto the surface of your hips.

“Yeah, Eds, please.” It was the begging that made him twitch. The begging—the please—that made him devour each and every sense of you.

He couldn’t help but kiss you so soft and feverishly as his teeth and tongue clashed against you. He whimpered against your lips at your sly hands unbuckling his jeans. “Shit—you’re so beautiful.”

And oh, you were. You were so beautiful that he’s sure he wanted this moment tattooed under his eyelids. He moaned when your hands gently caress his member—the thick veins and public hair rubbing against your wrist.

“W-wait—stop, I—I wanna be inside you, baby—please—” He chokes on nothing as your thumb swiped the tip of his cock. You smile, though, watching his shy movements and skittish smile.

You let him line himself up to you, his own eyes watching his cock split you open so slowly. You’re gripping his forearms right—nails digging into the surface of his skin. “Eddie, baby—shit—”

He was big. Really big. And yet, he didn’t even know. Nothing and no one to ever compare or share things to. He didn’t know that you weren’t sure he could even fit, definitely not until your moans continue to fill the van walls.

“Eddie, f-fuck, your cock, it’s so big, oh, eddie—” you’re cut off short by the thrust he gives. It was slow and easy, yet astonishing he hasn’t cum yet. Your wet, sticky walls are painted into his memory. Your slick that runs down to his balls will be cherished to no end.

“F-fuck, you’re grippin’ me, sweetheart. I-I-look at you. Fuckin’ beautiful with my cock inside you, yeah?”

He starts to understand a rhythm, his hips grinding straight into your pussy. His head never could choose where to look—your blissed face or your fucked out hole.

“Sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good, so good. You-you—”

You gasp as you feel the thick ropes of his salty cum fill you up to the brim. He came fast and hard—moaning your name as if it was the only thing he could ever think about.

Shit, he didn’t mean to cum so early. He didn’t mean to cum until you’ve at least cum once. But, he couldn’t help himself. All he wanted was to feel you over and over and over again.

His cum still seemed endless though—your gummy walls puncturing everything inside of him. “Yeah, Eds, baby, cum in me. Yeah, that’s it, baby. S-shit you feel so good—”

He looks at you with a frown, though, still breathless from his ecstasy. “You didn’t cum.”

He wanted you to cum, to let yourself seek pleasure. He wanted his cock to rut into you until you’re both fucked out. He wanted you to cum on his cock so many times, he’s lost count.

Eddie Munson, the freak and the virgin that didn’t get any action, wanted to practically live in your pussy.

He lets the statement sit in the air, and you were truly not bothered by it much. Most guys didn’t let you cum, anyway. And for Eddie? For Eddie, you’d do anything in the world to make sure he’s happy.

“No, but that’s okay. I can—” Your mouth clamps shut at Eddie spreading your legs apart—rings cold against your skin.

“Is it okay? Can I eat you out? F-fuck, I can see my cum dripping—please—I need to lick it, please, baby—please—”

“Yes, Eds, baby, please, wanna see you eat my pussy.”

Eddie may have been spent for about an hour, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to devour you for the rest of the night.

#sin saturday༊*·˚#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #smut #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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mrandmrssnowbaird · 3 months

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Reader breaking up with sub!coryo, and him trying to convince reader to stay. Him crying and begging her to stay

very submissive kept-boy coryo, but you're a soft dom and you just wanna take care of him forever when you realize how badly he needs you. dacryphilia, begging - it'll get sexier in part 2 keep your pants on people XD

Coriolanus has been a great boyfriend. What he doesn't have in the ability to spoil you monetarily, he makes up for in emotional gestures - holding your hand, brushing your hair away when you've just applied lipgloss and the wind blew a few strands to stick to your lips - things like that. The blonde tells you his secrets - that it's all a front, the Snows are flat broke and most nights he goes to bed hungry and goes to school the same only to be satisfied by school lunches. This only endears him to you, and you start to take care of him in little ways - inviting him to dinner and sending him home with extras, taking him out to breakfast on weekends. You bring cash, and you slip it to him to allow him to pay - pretend to the public that he is the one treating you. Each time, his eyes shine with adoration for you. You take care of him, really and truly, and you suspect he needs that. The depth of his need becomes evident when you try to end things. He hasn't done anything - but you're restless, and it feels like something is missing. Like he's still holding back, somehow. You invite him over to your place - you never go to his, even if you know his secret - and when Coriolanus sits on your bed, you break the news to him. He's heartbroken. You watch it happen, the realization, the moment of understanding. His brow furrows and he shakes his head of blonde curls. "What did I do...?" He asks, shaking his head. You knew he would ask this. "It's not that, it's just..." You begin, looking down at your hands, but he interrupts you. "Please, please don't do this." Coriolanus seems breathless, panicked, blue eyes wide and full of unshed tears. His pleas and tone surprise you - and pull at your heartstrings. "Coryo..." "What did I do? Is it because-" "No, it's not because of your situation." You say quickly. Your family has enough money for the both of you - it's really not that. "Then what! Did I mess up? I'll fix it! Let me fix it, please." He's desperate, you can hear it and see it. Your eyes take in his expression. You're not sure why, but something about his desperation and pleading is fascinating you. "It's not really something you can fi-" You begin, but he cuts you off again, and you're utterly shocked at what he does next.

"Please! Please don't do this. Don't leave me! I can fix it. I can." Coriolanus says, and then he slides off of your bed and down onto his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

#coriolanus snow #sub coriolanus #sub coryo #mrslucygraysnow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #sub! coryo #sub! coriolanus

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kindasleepywriter · 4 months

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Bird of Prey ~ Chapter 8: Forging a Warrior

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Azriel helps you open up about your past.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Child abuse, neglectful/absent parents, torture (yes again i'm sorry she's been through a lot)

Word count: 2.6k

Prev | Next

“My parents,” you started, “were mates. I know that’s not exciting for the Inner Circle, with your abnormal amount of mating bonds. It’s almost statistically impossible, really.”

Azriel laughed and shook his head softly at the comment.

“For the common people who don’t take baths in mythical objects, you know that’s rare. Very rare. My mother was a respected officer in the Dawn legions, and so was my father in the Illyrian army. They both were powerful enough to gain recognition at the time. When their bond snapped, everyone was uneasy at the thought of a child born of the two courts, but the idea of fated offspring from two powerful magic wielders was enough for them to tolerate their offspring. They kept it all very hush-hush, until they were certain where I’d end up.”

“I say they’re mates but it certainly wasn’t the romantic dream people portray.” you continued. “The hate between Peregryns and the Illyrian… well, I’m sure you’re aware of how deeply entrenched it is. When I was born, I was just a piece of property to be used as a bargaining chip. Dawn and Night battled over me like children, claiming they had the right to claim me. In the end, it was settled that I’d get education in both courts, that negotiations would take place when I’d have my first bleed, and that I’d be married off to someone in whichever court ended up not owning me.” You shuddered slightly at the memory. You’d been made aware of the potential suitors during your teenage years, and you knew a future with the men that each high lord put forward would be misery.

Azriel’s face darkened. He seemed not to be a fan of the arranged marriages that run rampant in Illyria, you thought.

“I’d have expected such a trade from the Illyrians,” he said through gritted teeth, “but for the Dawn court to be involved in such dealings… They must’ve expected a lot from you.”

You let out a snort. That wasn’t even the beginning of it.

“This was Thesan’s doing?” he added, and you could practically see the spymaster master gears start running in his head.

“No, I think Thesan would’ve done things differently.” You had never truly met him, but you’d heard enough from the people through your travels. He was a much kinder man or, at the very least, not someone who’d encourage the treatment you’d received as a mere child. Azriel appeared relieved at your words.

You hadn’t known the Shadowsinger that long, but you’d seen enough to understand he was willing to go to great lengths for the people he… cared about. There was no other way to put it. He’d begun caring for you as you had for him and, even if it scared you to death, it brought you much comfort.

“They expected me to move mountains,” you said, “and stop a thousand-man army without breaking a sweat by the time I was twelve. I was trained in every type of combat they could think of from the moment I could stand and hold a stick. Imagine a 6-year-old being treated like any grown soldier in the camps... I could deal with the physical training, but it was the hate and mockery of both courts that dealt the most damage. I hadn’t even grown my first flight feathers before I had heard every sort of insult possible and faced beatings from soldiers of all ages.”

“My parents…” you added hesitantly as you felt your voice wavering, “They didn’t care. If anything, they encouraged the others, because what worth could I have if I couldn’t protect myself? They berated me whenever I told them, they’d answer that it didn’t matter that the ones dealing the blows were twice my age, as I’d have to face much worse ‘out there in the real world’.

It deteriorated as I got older, without any magic to show for myself. The courts were growing restless, demanding things I couldn’t give them and, when I wasn’t able to do as they asked, they took any means possible to verify I wasn’t lying. During those years, they put me through pain… pain I hadn’t even imagined was possible.”

You blinked and looked up at the light blue morning light, trying and failing to keep your tears from falling. You felt the phantom slice of the blades, the coals, the spears they had used, every time you fell asleep. They’d keep you from unconsciousness each time and healers healed your wound, but you didn’t need the scars they’d erased as a reminder. You still carried your past with you every day.

You felt the subtle touch of Azriel’s shadows, still roaming hesitantly where you were perched on the railing. They slid over your shoulders, a weight to keep you anchored in the present. Azriel approached you silently, conscious of your distress. He looked murderous, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He raised a hand towards you but seemed to think better of it and retreated. You gripped him before he had the chance, uncertainty in his eyes at the contact of your skin against his. You silently ran your thumb over his rigid knuckles, trying to match the rhythm of his respiration as to calm yourself and focusing on the texture beneath the pads of your fingers.

You knew of the burns on his hand, you’d noticed them almost immediately upon meeting him, but they were anything but repulsive, despite what he seemed to think. They were a part of his history, what had made him into the man he is now, and you found that there was a pride to be found in them. It showed he’d survived, that he was stronger than what had happened to him.

He relaxed after a moment and stepped closer to you, hesitantly wiping your tears away with his free hand.

You were too deep in your own mind to think about the intimacy of the situation.

“When they finally realized that I was as good as powerless” you said, “No one wanted me. From that moment, I was just a disgusting half-breed on which they’d wasted their time. It didn’t matter that I could take on their best soldiers from adolescence, my blood was too tainted for them to bother with me. My father turned his back on me and stopped contact entirely. My mother decided to keep me in the end, and I still don’t know if it was a moment of weakness at the thought of leaving her child at the mercy of the world, or if it was just in hopes of me eventually discovering some hidden powers. I never asked her; I was too afraid of the answer. She sent me to some second residence she owned, hidden away from anyone else, where I kept training on my own and worked myself into the ground, still desperately hoping I could be what they all wanted.”

Azriel frowned. “I understand you would be easily recognizable in Illyria, but how could people even tell you weren’t fully Peregryn in Dawn? Surely, they couldn’t notice it at first glance.”

“The knowledge of my existence had traveled too far. Dawn had paraded me like cattle, hoping to lay claim. There’s also… There’s one obvious thing. It’s something I’ve kept hidden for a while now. I think the Vanseras might be the only ones outside of Dawn who even know about it. It’s very visible and it puts a target on my back. I didn’t want my presence tracked across Prythian that easily after I left Autumn.”

It was time for someone to know, you thought. If only to be able to stretch your wings, to finally get rid of the fears that you held for them. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do and looked around towards the house, peering into the balcony doors and to the roof, making sure you weren’t watched. The last thing you wanted was for this to reach Rhysand’s knowledge. His father had done enough damage to you as is, you didn’t need him to try and do the same.

At your hesitance, some of Azriel’s roaming shadows slithered in all surrounding areas, sweeping over windows and doors. “There’s no one here to see.” he reassured you softly after a moment, from where he now stood between your parted legs, your hands still joined together. You felt your anxiety fade a little; you didn’t find any dishonesty in his words.

You hesitated, still. He pointed his chin at his own membranous wings, and they stretched, slightly curved inward towards you, and brushed along each of your shoulders. He was inviting you to follow his movements, you realized.

Slowly, you straightened your spine and used the rarely used muscles that crossed your back to slowly unfold your wings. You kept them at a certain distance from Azriel’s, you weren’t quite ready for that type of contact. You winced at your wings’ stiffness, but shook them out to fully extend them, exposing the inky black dawn feathers that lined their interior surface.

Azriel’s mouth opened slightly in shock as he studied the expanse of plumage, razor focused. You knew they were unusual, the harsh contrast of white and black and sharp corners of them drawing the eye, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at his reaction. While you held no hate towards your own wings, you’d never let someone fully examine them since you were a child and had only ever received insults from others about their appearance.

“They’re beautiful, Dove.” he breathed, following every feather. The tension you held didn’t leave you.

“You might be the first one to say that.” you laughed half-heartedly.

His eyes cut to yours sharply. “They must’ve all been idiots, because those are the most magnificent wings I’ve ever seen.”

You flushed at the praise, barely holding his gaze as you shied at the attention. His hands twitched between yours, no doubt itching to study the feathers closer, and you guided one of his towards the closest ones. You instinctively felt the need to fold your wings away from the touch of another person, but you held a tight lid on your feelings and stayed as still as possible when his fingers brushed against one of the longest flight feathers.

You only twitched at the contact, keeping your focus on Azriel’s expression. He looked mesmerized as he explored the surface under his touch. You had no trouble believing he hadn’t lied about liking them, his childlike wonder blowing away any doubts you may have had earlier.

“You have a bigger wingspan than I do.” he said unexpectedly with narrowed eyes, as if the thought had slipped from him unwillingly. You couldn’t stop the startled laugh that escaped you, amusement flaring through you. He’d just added an onslaught of teasing to his future.

Your fidgeting hands found his wings too as you giggled. You waited for a moment before touching them, and he made no comment on your intentions despite you knowing he was fully aware of your movements. He never missed anything. You barely touched the membrane, but then softly ran your fingers along the base of his talons and you felt him shudder under your hands.

“Don’t- Don’t start something you won’t finish, Dove.” he said hoarsely, lightly gripping the feather he was examining. You laughed again as you remembered the sensitivity of the Illyrian wings. You’d never had the opportunity to study these reactions up close, having never laid with an Illyrian, but you’d heard about the anatomy all the same in the camps.

“I won’t torment you today.” you teased softly, your hands retreating to rest at the nape of his neck.

He tried to imitate the gesture you’d attempted earlier, receiving nothing but another light twitch in response. “Do you not feel that?” he questioned, indignant at your lack of reaction.

“I do and it feels nice, we just have different… different erogenous zones.”

“Of course, you’d be the one person to actually call it an ‘erogenous zone’.” he muttered under his breath as you continued giggling at his display of irritation. You couldn’t help but think that he might get to figure how to make you shiver too… but only if you stayed. The last thought dampened your mood. You shouldn’t be thinking about that now. Trust him, you reminded yourself, Stop thinking about fleeing.

You curled your fingers into his hair and sighed as he continued his ministrations. Despite your thoughts, you were far more relaxed than you’d been in a long time. You didn’t remember ever letting someone touch your wings without you being forced or pressured into it, and the care he put into caressing the soft dawn feathers felt heavenly. You leaned forward and sighed, face dropping to Azriel’s neck and finger still raking through his curls.

“I didn’t tell you everything yet.” you murmured.

Azriel hummed in response, the decision to continue or not remaining yours. You didn’t want to break the moment, but you couldn’t stop halfway through. You didn’t move away from him as you spoke softly against his skin.

“When my mother died, I didn’t inherit anything.” You started. “I don’t know who got her things instead. Some officer from the legion just showed up one day, broke the news, and promptly kicked me out. I barely had time to pack a bag. I didn’t feel like I could stay in Dawn, but I didn’t have anywhere to go either. I tried to send a letter to my father and never got a reply, so I naively assumed he didn’t receive it. I knew he had no interest in me previously, but I thought he’d show some mercy to a child he’d had with his mate. I traveled there and- well, you know the rest.”

Azriel stayed silent for a moment. “Your parents were some right shitheads.”, he finally said, and you didn’t have to see him to guess the frown that adorned his face.

“You’re telling me.” you muttered. “I take special comfort in knowing they both died painfully. Those two assholes both ended up rotting away alone in their courts from infections, not gloriously on the battlefield like they must’ve dreamt.” Fate had gotten that right, at least.

He chuckled and let go of your wings, instead wrapping his arms loosely around you, completely undeterred by the cruelness of your words. You basked in his closeness.

The moment was too short for your liking before his grip on you tightened. A few of his shadows emerged from the balcony doors, and he groaned deeply.

“We have approximately 2 minutes before Rhys and Amren come here to try and convince you to start training your magic.” he said.

You muttered a few choice words that conveyed exactly what you thought of the idea.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, Dove.” You pulled back and glanced at him. He had a mischievous look in his eyes. “You know, there’s a lot to do in the city.”

“I feel like an escape plan might be brewing,” you said with an arched brow. He smiled in response. “Won’t they be mad at you for leaving with me?”

“Not if they don’t catch us.” he laughed.

Rhysand and Amren found nothing but the remnants of your scents, flowing through the breeze.

Finally another soft moment 🙏 be prepared for a LOT of (requited) pining y'all

I've got a couple chapters already written that I'll just need to edit over the next few weeks, so the update will continue like they have so far!

As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about the story and your theories on what's happening next 💛💛

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

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maxphilippa · 5 months

Text

An Small Analysis Post On Lightbulb, Because I Hate How The Fandom Butchered Her Character As A Whole.

I'm making this post mostly as a reminder to myself To Not Hate Lightbulb because I actually think she's a pretty interesting character, but the way the fandom portrays her kinda ruined my interest for her.

The fandom's portrayal of Lightbulb ultimately just sticks to the nonsensical/silly aspect of her, which is pretty much what Lightbulb didn't want on canon to begin with. Interpretations and all that are understable, but I would like to just point out some things about Lightbulb. She's not just whimsy and sillyness and nonsense, her whole arc is about literally Toxic Positivity, Lack of Compromise, Lack of Leadership skills, Lack of Connection With Others and Unhealthy Copying Mechanisms.

Now Max, what the hell are you talking about? Well.

I personally think that Lightbulb is a genuinely good character. The way she copes with stuff really makes you see that she's really not doing great mentally. Of course, toxic positivity and sillyness may be her way to cope, because if no one sees her being vulnerable, they will never know what may hurt her the most.

I do think that she cared for Marsh in the same way Paintbrush did, but dare I say she also lacks emotional intelligence when it comes to comforting others or accepting those feels. Why talk about them seriously when you can just joke around and make them laugh about the issue? Of course that didn't happen.

Lightbulb has attachment issues, she doesn't want to be left alone, and she doesn't seem to be conscious over the fact that her attitude and way to approach others IS why she never truly got too many significant relationships at all until the very end, only for all of her friends to leave.

Having a "I don't care :]" attitude only did it so much worse for her on an emotional stand point because she ended up caring so SO badly for the remaining members of her group, and when her team was going down, she didn't know what to do or what to say at all. On late s2 she's actually getting the needs of her teammates and their struggles.

But I want to note something here. The reason as to why she "ditched" Test Tube so quickly on the alt dimension ep was because she thought that she found people that got her, people who were going through it but just wanted to keep thinking positively, and at the end of the day, that just doomed her. Because she realized that they weren't like that. She didn't find anyone that got how she felt.

You can only hide so much things with laughs and shenanigans and attitudes and addictions, before you realize that you have to own your mistakes and have to ACTUALLY TRY to be a better person.

Now, I don't think that Lightbulb meant things to go that way.

Thus all of these things are so much sadder when Fan and Test Tube get eliminated and Lightbulb is left alone. For the first time she ACTUALLY tried to let go off her unhealthy copying mechanisms and got close to people and lost them on the process. She lost all of her team because she didn't care seriously enough.

She's alone.

She doesn't like being alone at all.

So she's currently suffering the consequences of her actions.

And she doesn't like being alone.

Lightbulb struggles so SO much with having healthy relationships and healthy connections because she never was honest with herself at all. And when she realized that in order to be close to others, you have to grow and let yourself feel, it was far too late.

Her whole team is gone because of her lack of care for it and how she sucked at being a leader despite being an light to them, her unhealthy copying mechanisms indicate that she's been like that for a long time, and that the attitude she took was in order to cope with things feeling so so bad.

I really want to see what they'll do with her once s2 is back again. But for now, we can only hope so much.

#inanimate insanity #ii #inanimate insanity invitational #ii 2 #ii 3 #inanimate insanity lightbulb #inanimate insanity fan #inanimate insanity paintbrush #inanimate insanity test tube #ii lightbulb #ii fan #ii paintbrush #ii test tube #max overanalyzes characters

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namis-gf · 3 months

Note

Just saw that you’re open for one piece requests and thought I’d drop by.

Would you consider writing back rub and back kisses hcs for katakuri or marco please? And best of luck with the come back ^^

anon ur so insane how did u KNOW i was thinking obsessively about katakuri for the past two weeks straight... ur too good. i meant to stick closer to the prompt but the plot kinda got away from me, sorry!

summary: strawhat!reader x katakuri meet again after many years apart during the whole cake island arc. luffy has been trying to convince him to join his crew with no success, but maybe he might listen to you?

word count: 969 words / 0.9k

cw: none? i think?

whoever said katakuri was 48 year-old eldest daughter syndrome is absolutely correct. he has so many hangups when it comes to both physical and verbal affection, most of the time preferring to passively sit by and let people bother him. case in point, your captain. instead of immediately setting sail for zou to meet up with everyone, luffy has taken it upon himself to convince the minister of flour that his presence is desperately needed on his crew. permanently.

and, if you're going to be polite about it: things aren't going well. you've watched for two days straight, luffy yelling either to the gentle giant's face (which is still quite a distance from the ground), or attempting to scale the walls of katakuri's home. neither of those particularly difficult for the rubber boy, considering the house slash castle itself seems to be basically falling apart.

you wait. nami often sits by your side, either grouching about the time, plotting your captain's demise, or napping on your shoulder. chopper and brook have taken to an almost betting ring of sorts, getting the remaining residents of komugi island to guess whether their leader will stay or go. so far, the odds aren't in luffy's favour. as usual, you might add.

at the end of their fourth extra night, luffy returns to the sunny. he looks a little downtrodden, yawning, but has somehow gotten a hold of a handful of mochi. "i think katakuri was trying to kill me again, but he lost. the food he makes is really yummy though, shishishi!"

with a sigh of your own, you offer, "let me talk to him, i have an idea."

"you do?" luffy replies, mouth full of sweets, "go ahead!"

"call if you need anything!" chopper chimes in.

nami only shakes her head. "if you don't come back, we'll assume you got trampled to death or something. so don't do that please."

"don't even worry about it, i'm basically a pro social hustler," you tell them, and begin the walk to the castle.

"so you are not a bard, or a songstress, or a very small jester. your presence here confuses me, you did not seem like someone who would ever become a pirate," katakuri tells you, his tone as solemn as ever.

"is this a roundabout way of saying i don't have any talents?" you mock-gasp with flair, "oh you wound me so!"

he stares at you wordlessly. okay, it looks like jokes are off the table.

"but you missed me right?" you try instead, putting on your biggest smile. "you missed me so bad, must be why you look so grumpy all the time."

"is your captain aware of..." he pauses, considers, "does the strawhat know of your past?"

"sort of?" you shrug your shoulders, shifting forward to adjust like you aren't already lying on one of his legs (truly the world's largest couch). "there was never exactly a good time to bring it up, ya know? like how was i supposed to say 'uh hey guys, i used to work here as the world's worst gardener before i got fired'."

"hm, that does seem difficult," katakuri nods. "i could not tell how much they knew, but you are lucky that none of my siblings happened to remember you well enough to say anything."

"small blessings for sure," you do your best to contain a laugh, however the echoing chambers of an empty castle only make it louder. "anyways, cut the bullshit. you're gonna come with me, right?"

his neutral expression shifts into something like a frown, and yet you can tell he isn't exactly angry at your presumptuousness either. "i would like to accompany you. but my duties to my... mother and the family take precedence."

"and if you left, she'd send the whole gang after you."

he sighs again. "yes, that is the most probable outcome. and i would not wish to put the strawhat crew in danger."

"that's charming," you reply, "but also really stupid. and i know you aren't a dummy, right? you've been hanging around this dreary archipelago for your whole life! don't you want to, i don't know, do something? go on an adventure?"

he doesn't respond immediately, but a large hand clumsily pats your head with his pointer finger. you grin, knowing victory must be in sight. "your totally evil mom doesn't even leave her place that often, so she won't even notice that you're gone! and tell me right now that you don't think luffy would be chomping at the bit to fight her again? be serious, mochi-mochi."

all of a sudden the ground shifts under you, and you make an embarrassing yelp as you're dragged up and up and up. katakuri holds your body by the back of your shirt, and you're only partially worried that he could drop you. death by splat on marble floor isn't appealing in the slightest. you're suspended by a shirt pinched between fingers as he squints slightly, as though looking for a secret in your expression.

"fine," he eventually says, "i will go. but if something goes wrong, do not say i didn't warn you."

"ah, you're bringing me back to old times!" you hum, making a familiar grabby hand motion for him to drop you on his shoulder. "except i think uh, the last time you warned me-"

"you got fired, yes," he says amicably, but acquiesces to your request. "left or right?"

"right! i wanna look like a really mean parrot, mr. pirate," you exclaim, laughing as he drops you gently where you'd asked. feeling mischievous, you press a kiss against his neck and watch as his face goes pink. "we should probably go make sure that you won't sink the sunny, though!"

"... and you somehow did not think to check something like that before?"

FIN (FOR NOW)

#one piece #one piece x reader #charlotte katakuri #charlotte katakuri x reader #gn!reader #requests open

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al1fers-haven · 26 days

Note

Platonic hazbin hotel cast and gn!teen!reader with the personality of loona from helluva boss 👀

It could be a list of hcs or a oneshot. Either way is fine ^^

Hazbin Hotel x GenZ!Reader Headcannons

Imma do this as headcannons because...I can't really find any storyline for this lol CHARLIE

one of the things that Charlie seemed to actually figure out the most was why you were so moody lol, she went through that emo phase too but...yours was sticking a bit too long to be a phase.

She had mentioned a couple times that they were going to focus on your issues separately to keep you from feeling bad, but she never actually went for it. Scared it would set you off a bit.

outside of that, she thought you were adorable, treating you more like a younger sister than a normal hotel attendee.

Sees more of herself in you than she would like to admit, and doesn't truly understand why you are in hell but...she doesn't push.

VAGGIE

Oh god, you and vaggie DO NOT MIX. It's one thing to put two demons together, but Vaggie already acts like a depressed teen at times.

She doesn't really...demand respect but she tries to act motherly towards you and just fails miserably.

You think she is trying to be controlling because you are younger and don't know as much.

Genuinely thinks you can be redeemed, and that if anyone has shot at it, it would be you.

Despite the fact you two don't get along, you come to her for some issues that you know she would be good with, like trying to get better and maintain friendships. that doesn't happen often tho.

You and her mixed is awful for boardgames too, talk about competitive.

You and her definitely got a lot of bad blood on, especially if you get all mean with charlie and yell.

ANGEL DUST

Oh god, it's a beautiful friendship.

You and angeldust get along more than needed, despite both being assholes at times, you both love each other and think a lot of one another.

You are usually the one taking care of him (along with Husk) Whenever he gets too rowdy at clybs, not only that but he takes care of you when you are unstable as well.

You don't do well with men, or any sort of family figure that is a man so as much as you try you always blow up.

You deeply care for the spider porn star but sometimes your personality makes it harder than you'd like. And he is one of the people inside the hotel that understands this the most, it's what you guys bonded over.

LOVES YOUR ATTITUDE.

He thinks your absolutely hilarious and wishes that when he was your age he had half the courage to say the shit you say. Watching you tell Alastor he was a braindead prick? Oh it made his day.

But that worried him a little bit, while he was happy you hadn't been roped into any sort of deal or contract, he was worried you'd say something to the wrong person. And if you ever did he would be there in a heartbeat

you two usually get drunk together since he doesn't want you going to any bars alone (Which you hate, but understand) So he won't help you with the hangover, but he will be right next to you throwing up in the sink as you throw up in the toilet :) HUSK

If you had to have a father bond with anyone? It would be Husk. He refuses to give you drinks for no reason and even has late-night talks with you.

scolds you for not being careful and respecting yourself, and usually just sits there as you yell at him till you say something truly horrible to him.

(Which isn't a lot, this guy can take more than he admits.)

But at the end of the day, he's there to give you advice and let you ramble on about the shitty stuff going on in your life,

hell he even lets you drink if it's truly bad

he's more scared of you ending up like him than you getting drunk young, you are in hell.

definitely helps you to bed and takes care of you when you are drunk or after you are drunk. Seems like the type to have a soft spot for emotionally troubled drunk teens. ALASTOR

Oh god, he hates you.

if it wasn't for the fact you were a part of the hotel or one of Charlie's favorites. He would have killed you by now due to the comments you threw at him.

He couldn't tell who he would rather be in a room with, velvette? Or you.

Despite all of that he had an open mind to your behavior, understanding you were an emotional teen.

but that did NOT make the whole 'fossil' joke suddenly funny to him.

You two have bonded over a couple things, suits, food, and your insomnia. At the end of the day you still hated each other.

But he would totally cover you up if you fell asleep on the couch or something like that.

If you listen to his radio show he actually might start being nice to you, he's a sucker for teens as well. Especially if you are a girl.

DEFINITELY IMAGINE DEADPOOL AND THE SUPERSONIC GIRL FROM THE FIRST MOVIE.

"So what's it going to be? Mean comment? Or long sullen silence." "....you got me in a corner here." NIFTY

you two were an odd duo, usually, you sat through her horrible roach puppet shows and tried to hype her up, but in the end, you just couldn't.

she still appreciated you watching them and not booing.

Definitely tries not to get on your bad side, but ends up being annoying on accident,

you can't be mad at her though... SIR PENTIOUS (or however you spell it.)

This man obviously had cried multiple times because of your attitude and yelling.

He is a softy at heart, and you try to feel bad but he just makes it so easy.

the snake jokes are never-ending, especially if you two decide to form a bond? but I doubt that would ever happen...man is sensitive.

Didn't catch him during the trust fall, instead gagged about how slimy he was and called him a rude name.

Might make a part 2 to this, it's adorable

#hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin art #angeldust #charlie morningstar #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #sir pentious #nifty hazbin hotel #hazbin nifty #nifty

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akunya · 1 year

Text

"a lending hand."

pairings: sonny brisko x m!reader

summary: oh no! im stuck and i cant get out and my big, sexy brother is home alone with me! whatever shall i do.. tw: INCEST, mindbreak, size difference, manipulation. NONCON/DUBCON, dacryphilia, RIMMING, degradation, dirty talk, feminization(?), etc. notes: this was a lovely commission from someone that requested more sonny-nii! i got a bit too into it and wrote way more than i was expecting. they gave me permission to share it with everyone, yay!

commission info is here , this fic is incredibly perverted so.. just a warning.

truly, honestly, from the bottom of your very heart — you didn’t mean to get stuck underneath the bed with your lower half sticking out like the most predictable homemade porno in history.

but, alas, you did.

you were stuck, and as embarrassing as it was to have another person see you like this, you needed help.

trying to reach for something underneath your bed was clearly the wrong choice. fingers stretching, eyebrows furrowed as you extended your arm as much as it could go. “..come.. on..!” you sighed in frustration, laying your head down and accepting your fate before the door creaked open.

“y/n? are you alright? i heard the bed creak—.”

sonny couldn’t finish his sentence, freezing at your doorway. “sonny! that’s you, isnt it?” his eyes raked over your poor, helpless little body. his breathing became ragged, licking his lips.

“oh.” was this.. a dream? his adorable little brother, the boy who invades his dreams every night, sprawled out and bent over for him? the blonde gulped, his body feeling warm. wearing those slutty little shorts you insisted on, you barely left anything to imagination for the poor man, the slim fabric showing a perfect outline of your ass. so innocent — so slutty.

clearing his throat, the eldest spoke up. “um, what happened, little bro..?” sonny tried to speak as innocently as he could. he started to move a bit closer, hovering over you eerily quiet.

you looked so small like this.. bent over on the floor, ass in the air. he knew that his stature compared to yours displayed a significant height difference, but this made his head spin. “i-i was stupid, tried to reach for something that fell behind my bed, but ended up stuck in this thing. i can’t seem to pull myself out, it’s too tight. do you think you could help?”

your room was met with an uncomfortable silence.

thoughts ran through sonnys head. “was this.. okay to do?” his inner consciousness fought relentlessly, eyes staring at the door then back at you. he shouldn’t— he couldn’t! you were his little brother, and sure, even if you were older now, that didn’t excuse him being a pervert! he should just help you out and excuse himself to his room like he always does, right? yknow, the right thing an older brother would do?

the breaking point, however, was when you had shimmied your hips, trying to find a position that was less painful on your knees. your shorts had angled themselves in a way that sonny had a full view of your dick, peeking through the fabric, small and innocent and inviting.

he needed to have you. now.

it felt like forever had passed, until you cleared your throat. “big bro? i asked if you could—“ your sentence was cut off by the harsh slap on your ass, emitting a surprised yelp from yourself as sonny sighed. yea, this was obviously the correct choice. the skin was already reddening from his rough hand, making you wince in discomfort.

“ive always wanted to do that.” his laugh was shaky, smiling to himself as his palm began to sting from the impact. his heart felt as if it would burst in his poor little chest, letting his other hand slap the other cheek. “ow!” you wailed this time, head bumping against the bottom of the mattress as you tried to instinctively get away. but you couldn’t — you were trapped in sonny’s grasp. sonny was strong. he had to be, given his line of work and title, but you never really learned the true extent of it until today. the officer couldn’t help himself, fingers grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts and pulling everything off, your bottom half exposed.

“god, look at you, little bro. your body is so perfect. we’re you waiting for this the entire time?” you stood silent, speechless at what was unfolding. even if you had shook your head ‘no’, sonny wouldn’t care, quickly giving into his own perverse desires. of course you did this on purpose — why wouldn’t you? it was too perfect of a moment not to be planned out beforehand. the slutty little outfit, your parents not being home until tomorrow, and sonny having the weekend off. how considerate of you, to think of your creepy older brother like this. your ass looked so inviting, the blondes mouth started to water. his intrusive thoughts won, shuffling closer until his mouth was mere centimeters away from your little hole.

“wait, s-sonny, you can’t!” you tried to squirm away, sonnys hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place; not that he needed much help, with the mattress sandwiching you. moaning, your toes curled in pleasure as your brother began making out with your asshole, groaning and huffing behind you. it felt beyond dirty, your sounds only spurring him further, tongue delving past the tight rim of muscle as he closed his eyes in pure bliss. it was every perverts dream, after all.

his skilled tongue slurped obscenely in your hole, your cock pitifully leaking tiny spurts of precum from how dirty this all was. it felt humiliating. having your ass eaten as a guy was one of the least things you’d expected to ever happen to you. sonnys face was flushed, eating as if he was a starved man, lips and chin glossy with spit. everytime the man pulled back, he just delved right back in, your resolve stripping away with every flick of his tongue. it was so sloppy, some of his saliva even dripped down your taint, a trail dripping onto the floor. the older man groaned, furiously pumping.. was that his cock? fucking into his hand, sonny gave one last smooch to your hole, pulling away with a sigh. your cock twitched, whining at the loss of touch as your hole fluttered around nothing. you were aching, core nearly on fire with how badly you needed him — someone, anything to fill you up, as shameful as it made you feel.

for better or for good, the blonde was impatient. smirking, sonny popped open a small bottle of lube, the click making your heart drop. was he..?

“b-big bro, this isn’t funny anymore, okay..? just help me out of here, please?” you spoke up, voice shaky without a single threat in them. i mean, what could you do? you were in sonnys hands now, and no one was coming to help you for hours, lower half exposed and ready for the claim. sonny hummed in response, a hand tenderly caressing your red skin, thumb cheekily slipping into your hole.

“of course ill help you out, y/n. i never said i wouldnt.” sighing in relief, you wiggled your ass, trying to squirm and get yourself out. unfortunately, in sonnys twisted mind, it looked as if you were teasing him even more. he took his thumb out of your ass, instead teasing the gaping hole with the tip of his cock. practically growling, his hand spanked the soft skin of your behind, shuffling to get even closer to you.

fucking slut. “..i didn’t say id let you out right now, though. be good for me, won’t you?” you didn’t even have time to process sonnys words before he slipped inside you, gripping your ass as he let out a loud moan.

“fuck, oh god..” the officer cursed under his breath, eyes closed from how blissful your walls were clenching around him. you sobbed softly, at least thankful that being stuck here meant sonny didn’t have to see how pathetic you looked — not like it would deter him from his goal or anything. “you’re so tight, i can — hah! barely move, fuck!”

the squelch of your lubed ass sucking his cock in made you cringe, sonny losing himself in the erotica of it all. taking off his shirt, he pulled out, granting you a moment of relief before he slammed back in again. “s-sonny!” you tried to get up again, hitting your head hard against the metal frame of the mattress, but sonny didn’t care. he couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. you were so smaller so tight, so pliant in his hands. the blonde showed no mercy, pistoning into your poor body with little grunts of appreciation.

full. you felt so, so full. it wasn’t a surprise sonny had a big cock to match his big stature, but god, you swore you could feel him in your tummy as he abused your little hole. before you knew it, you were moaning now, desperate little whines of pleasure as sonny rammed in that spot that made you see stars for the first time in your life. “b-big bro.. slow.. nnh..!” sonny chuckled, spanking you again to add to the other countless times today, cock twitching inside of you. the wet plap of skin against skin did nothing to help your brain, slowly turning into mush with every stir of the blondes dick.

“you like this, don’t you, y/n? getting fucked like a girl? yea?” you whined loudly, the coil in your stomach only growing tighter and tighter because of sonnys filthy words. you were positive you wouldn’t be able to sit after this, from the way the older man fucked you as if he wanted to make your insides remember his shape. drooling, your legs were wide open, wanting more of the sickly pleasure he was drowning you in. “sonny, o-onii, i cant—!”

god, maybe sonny should’ve pulled you out from underneath this mattress. he licked his lips, so badly wanting to shove his tongue in your mouth, trap you in a mating press like you deserve. hissing from how tight you clenched around him, sonny extended his hand to squeeze your cock, relishing in the loud cry you let out. “come on then, little bro! i know you can do it. cum for me.” his voice dropped low, his pace unforgiving on your poor little body as you came with another yell, thick seed pooling below. seeing you cum all because of him was enough to send the pervert into his own frenzy, quickly cumming after you. his load spilled deep inside, sighing in relief as you groaned.

your body fucking ached, bruised and sore everywhere. you didn’t even have the strength to keep your knees up, only held by sonnys strong hands as he coo’ed at your pitiful state. don’t worry, little one — your big brother would take care of you all weekend long.

“ill let you out now, okay? then, we can go for round two.”

#sonny nii.. i love you.. i wrote half of this listening to vods lol #male reader #male reader blog #male x reader #x male reader #sonny brisko x m!reader #sonny brisko x male!reader #sonny brisko x reader #sonny brisko #noctyx x m!reader #noctyx x male reader #noctyx x y/n #noctyx x reader #noctyx #my fics..#commish fics..

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intimidating-fettuccine · 7 months

Note

Could I please have some toby. I love the guy. May I have something for him and his s/o going out at night to the park and being goofballs...causing trouble, getting into shenanigans if you will

I hope this is enjoyable for you, I kind of took a goofball and quiet night type approach for it while sticking to my Toby's interests.

Toby loves going out and goofing off with you. Growing up, he never was allowed outside or allowed the freedom to just run around and have fun, so it's something that he really relishes during his time at the mansion. He gets a lot of pent-up energy, and having the chance to run around in a park in the Underworld or on Earth with you is just so peaceful and relaxing, and it's one of the few times these days that he finds himself truly happy. It doesn't matter what the two of you are getting up to, he just wants to be there with you.

One of his favorite things to do, even if you aren't good at sports, is to go out and either kick a ball around or throw one back and forth. You don't have to be talented or good at it (Toby himself doesn't even try to be that great), he just likes to do it because he never had the chance to growing up. If you really wanna see him have a lot of fun, get him a fucking Wubble ball or something and let him smack it around for an hour, and he'll have the time of his life. He'll probably trip and stumble a lot, maybe get some bruises and cuts he can't feel, but to Toby, running around and having fun like a kid would is one of his favorite things to do, and it's even better when you're the one that he gets to play with. He loves you so much, and it makes him so happy that you're interested in goofing off like that with him too. Running around, screaming and laughing, making people yell at the two of you to quiet down from their porches, it just gets him so giddy and excited, because he feels free and he feels like he can conquer the world. Nights like this always end with some late-night ice cream from his favorite ice cream parlor in the Underworld that's always open 24 hours, so no matter how late the two of you are out goofing around you can always stop.

On quieter nights if he's feeling mischievous, one of the recent things he's gotten into is spraypainting on things, and doing graffiti. Sometimes it's words, sometimes it's animals or random patterns, but he's actually really talented at it, and he likes having you there to give him ideas and just watch him do it. He always peeks over his shoulder to make sure you're still standing there watching him because it makes him feel at peace and happy. On other quiet nights, he collects moths and butterflies. I've said before, that my Toby likes to collect moths and butterflies and pin them up in his bedroom, and nights with you are one of his favorite times to do that. He's always trying to catch a new species, and as the seasons change that presents him the chance to do so. It's one of the times when he's the most quiet and relaxed, not wanting to scare them away, and he teaches you how to do it, and how to properly care for them. He has a large area in his room that's sectioned off and got large cages for the butterflies and moths to live in until they die, he always gives them food and nurtures them until they pass, and then he'll spread and pin them up. Catching them with you just makes the experience more worth it and more enjoyable and memorable. He always helps show you the whole process so you know the work he puts into them, and sometimes he'll even let you pick the spot where he's going to put them up. It makes him feel so content and at peace to look at a butterfly or moth you chose the place for, as it just really cements into his mind that your relationship is permanent and real.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader

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thatone-brightstar · 11 months

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it.

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.”

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood. Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef.

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear.

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine.

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-”

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically.

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page.

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons.

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here.

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left.

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth.

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon.

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon.

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?”

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side.

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you.

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?”

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist.

“It’s fine- I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you.

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again.

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…”

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner.

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

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skywheeldate · 1 month

Text

Analyzing the Skywheel Dates

Unable to wait patiently for the Ultimania releasing next month, I wanted to provide my own analysis of the Skywheel dates between Cloud/Tifa and Cloud/Aerith.

By analyzing Cloud's behavior on these two dates, which are explicitly more romantic than the other four, I aim to understand why the dates played out the way they did and what was going through the character's heads during them.

Tifa Date:

What sticks out in most player's minds during the date is the kiss Cloud gives Tifa while riding the Skywheel, and it's easy to see why! It's the first time Cloud has kissed a woman on screen, after all. But I have seen fans state that this proves Cloud likes Tifa more, and while I hate to get myself involved in any shipping war, I feel there is a more interesting conclusion we can draw based on the timeline of events throughout both remake games.

First, I want to direct you to this caption from the Remake Ultimania:

When Cloud gives Tifa the flower, he wants to "Show off a youthful image of what he himself wants to be like"...

I think this caption is very important to helping us understand why Cloud was able to be so bold as to kiss the girl he was always too shy to befriend as a child. And I think it's linked to his new "ex-soldier persona."

See, the ex-soldier persona Cloud crafted is modeled after a person he admired and wanted to be like: Zack. Although making this new personality for himself was an unhealthy response to his trauma, I think there are good things to it, as well. For one, it allowed him to take action again and thereby begin his first steps towards recovery. In addition, it gives him courage to do things he never could before, such as strutting his stuff on the dance floor:

I don't think it's too far of a stretch to say that this extends to him giving the flower to Tifa.

So this, in my mind, explains how Cloud had the courage to kiss Tifa and why some fans might think it felt a little sudden or out of character--it's because it almost is, in a way. But let me reiterate, I don't think that's a bad thing. I think Zack's influence on Cloud is somewhat natural and, frankly, having the courage to do the things you want and have fun is never a bad thing. I truly believe Cloud is exemplifying being Zack's "living legacy" by becoming more confident and outgoing. It's a good thing!!

And let's not ignore Tifa in this scene. Before the kiss, Tifa brings up that she feels she and Cloud have become closer, but frets that she's rushing to conclusions again. She's giving Cloud a clear opening to prove his feelings for her--and frankly, after all this build up? Giving the flower, all the tiny touches they've shared? Cloud is more than ready to prove it to her, and he does. It's so easy, and he does it the best way he knows how: with a kiss. In that moment, the boy became the man he's always aspired to be.

Aerith Date:

Conversely, the Aerith date isn't quite as simple--at least to me. It's hard to understand what's going on in their heads, and I think they comparatively have more obstacles in the way of their romance.

The biggest obstacle is that Aerith has seen through Cloud's persona, and almost calls him out on it during the date. She tells him she's looking for the real him, and that she wants to meet him someday.

I believe this stops Cloud, subconsciously. While the persona he built around Zack gives him more confidence, it's still a persona. It's not who he really is. By giving into that persona at all, he is not giving Aerith what she wants. Being confident and bold with Tifa was important, because she needed proof he liked her, but here? What's important is being the "real" Cloud, whoever that is. It must have stumped him.

Aerith gives him an easy out though: she asks Cloud to let her snuggle up against him until the ride ends. And that much, at least, Cloud can manage. And he goes even further than that when he interlaces their fingers together. I think this is his way of showing that he'll be there for Aerith--not just till the ride ends, but after. He's showing her that he does, in fact, care about her, and that her selfish request isn't as selfish as she thinks it is.

I also want to bring up the lyrics from No Promises to Keep here since I think they're extremely relevant to the Clerith relationship and the hand-holding symbolism seen throughout the game:

Till the day that we meet again At our place, just let me believe In the chance that you'll come Take my hand and never let me go Take my hand And believe We can be Together evermore

The hand holding symbolizes their shared desire to be "together evermore" and the belief that they will be. The interlocked fingers display a powerful, mutual bond that cannot be so easily severed. I think this imagery is both simple and extremely beautiful.

In summary, although they are not at a point in their relationship where they're ready to kiss yet, I believe this scene is meant to show that there is still possibility for their relationship to grow and get to that point.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊°。 .❀

Thank you for reading till the end! I hope you enjoyed my thoughts. Feel free to use or reference this post if you found it resonated with your own interpretations of these scenes. And if you have your own interpretations to share, I would love to hear them!

#ffvii #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough #tifa lockhart #meta #ffvii meta #clerith #cloti

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oh-saints · 1 year

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can you write unrequited love with mason mount like you did in "sick"?

uuuu as spicy as this gif coming right up!

done

when you decide you have enough of mason playing with your heart.

mason mount x bff!reader

word count: 1.1k

note: i actually had the inspiration to try writing from the 1st person POV during my subway ride to work but it went *poof!* when i got to my desk ☹ and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

you shouldn’t have said yes to him.

you shouldn’t have said yes.

you shouldn’t have gone to the club.

you should’ve gone to your therapist because this is getting out of hand.

how many times are you going to say yes to every of mason’s call?

“you really need to stop sticking up for him just because you’ve been friends for years,” you know that your therapist’s going to repeat that line, just like every other session you’ve had with him. he’s not wrong, your therapist, but he’s not entirely right because he doesn’t know what you truly feel.

and you never let him know what you truly feel.

out of duty? out of love? heck, if you know.

the bass at the club is pounding as hard as it can your head, in hope to quiet down the sadness and devastation and desperation and depression away from the dance floor. but it certainly doesn’t stop your tears from running down your cheek at the sight of mason kissing a random girl so passionately like the world’s ending tomorrow.

well, in all honesty, your world’s ending tomorrow because you recognise it. you know what’s coming and it’s synonymous with all those sad songs and tragic stories you used to combine together when you’re younger. nothing beats reading slice-of-life books with a good, fitting soundtrack, no?

ironic how the combo’s now beaten by reality.

you know mason’s going to go home with that girl—another club, another random long-legged bimbo—and you know he’s going to either dump her in the morning or date her by the end of the month. if it’s the latter, then he’ll certainly break up before summer comes around the corner and the cycle’s going on a full circle once more.

he’s truly committed to the line he said when he’s doing casuals only the last time Tatler interviewed him—god, you’re there and you feel like puking. and by doing so, he’s also truly committed to breaking your heart every chance he gets.

yes, his girlfriend—whichever she is—will always stir up something so you and mason won’t hang around while they’re dating. but that’s not what breaks your heart the most. not even the words that flat-boobs idiot said about you. it’s when he comes back to you after dumping the girl and acts as if nothing happens.

yet, you always says yes to his plea of going to a party with him to celebrate his newly single life. even after knowing the pattern that he’d always desert you later on and you have to take a taxi home, all alone.

your therapist once asked, “have you confronted him about how he feels?” and you could only answer it with, “most of the time, i forget.”

but you know yourself better. you don’t want to burn the bridges.

however tonight, different than any other night, the bridge might as well been burnt down to ashes the moment your tears fell because fucking hell. you recognise the girl; new, upcoming starlet that comes from golden spoon. you want to hate her like usual for ending your world by tomorrow but you can’t because she’s basically everything you’re not and you know they’re a match.

he’s boisterous, she’s calm. he’s an active social butterfly, she’s everyone searches for.

but you can’t bring yourself to hate her because it means happiness to mason and it’s what matters to you the most. and it means he’s staying for longer than 3 months, which further leads to you probably sidelined for longer than usual.

you’re supposed to hate it, the fact that you’re getting replaced by someone miles better. but you can’t and you hate yourself instead. you start blaming yourself with all the things only an insecure person can think of, but you know you’re not insecure.

mason made sure of that—he’s good at building confidence—but he’ll never know why. he’ll never see why.

ironic because he’s got the clearest set of brown eyes and you will always love them till the ground buries you 6-feet down, even when you know those eyes will never see the watermarks on your skin because when it comes to you, he’s always blind.

blind to the fact you’re the one who stuck up when the teachers at school looked down on him going through the footballer path; blind to the fact that you’re the one who finished his homework whenever you knew he forgot because you wanted him to prove those teachers wrong too; blind to the fact that you were the one who put an umbrella over his head when he got turned down by the girl he liked; blind to the fact that you move down to London to be with him.

blind to the fact that you do that because you love him.

the very reason you never read those ‘childhood friend to lovers’ trope.

but unlike the endings of those kind of books where the characters reciprocate feelings, mason mount doesn’t even know how to appreciate someone who’s always by his side. he thinks it’s always something given to his plate and only then it feels like someone drops a bomb on your head.

how can you love someone so deeply when he’s stuck in his own head?

“i’m going home, mason,” so you cut their public make-out session to say it to his face, and the man’s shocked at your use of his first name. you never do that, not once in your entire time being friends. “i’m done.”

poor boy only thought you mean by done for the night. that you’re done because it’s tiring to see him doing his deeds like every other night. imagine his shock when he calls you the next week for another party, only for his calls to be answered by “the number you’re calling does no longer exist.”

he frowns so deeply ben had to straighten the crease out. there’s nothing happening in your life that can possibly lead you to cut off your line or to change your number. he calls your office and your assistant answers, as usual, but when he says he’s looking for you, the line goes silent for a full minute.

“hello?”

“mason,” a deep breath. “she resigned a week ago.”

“what? why?”

“if only we know,” and he knows your assistant’s not lying because he knows regret when he hears one. the company’s best asset leaves at her peak. “she goes in to the CEO office one minute and the next, she’s out of the building for good. boss says she’s done here.”

then it clicks him.

you’re done with him, once and for all.

and it’s too late for him to fix it.

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