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haitaniapologist · 2 years

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ONLY FOOLS FALL FOR YOU. ( alhaitham x reader )

╰┈➤ some feelings came to haunt you after ten years since the last time you saw him.

pairings — alhaitham x fem!reader.

warnings — rivals / enemies to lover ish, slow burn, reader and alhaitham are in their middle twenties, reader has a pyro vision and is also a dancer and actress, reader is also the daughter of a genshin character, angst and a bit of fluff (happy ending of course but they're idiots in love).

word count — 8.1k

notes — june is back with another long fic for genshin! this one was supposed to be posted ages ago but i only had the time to do it now. i hope you guys will enjoy! reblogs and feedbacks are appreacited <3

lesser lord kusanali was a forbidden matter in your house, but you were sure she was the one who pushed you to be what you were today.

being the daughter of the newest sage in sumeru had its perks, but you hated it. you hated the expectations everyone put on yourself, of how you should follow in your father’s footsteps and join the akademiya — everyone was sure you already had your vacancy there, with how important your father became in such a few moments after his promotion as a sage. but you never cared for scholar subjects, not in the way your two childhood friends did.

alhaitham and kaveh had different interests, but they could enroll in the akademiya with no problem, because their line of study was actually respected by the sages and other scholars. yours, on the other hand, was looked down on and made fun of by every single one of your father’s, and him too, friends. as much as you tried not to look crestfallen when you heard them talking about the performers of the grand bazaar, alhaitham’s hand always managed to find yours when he was present in such gatherings — and you hoped that, when he wasn’t around, nobody would notice the change in your behavior.

the arts were what called you: music, dancing, acting.

you could see yourself becoming a performer at the grand bazaar, dancing and acting for the honor of the dendro archon. the applause and excited screams of the audience were what you wanted to pursue, and not false wishes and the quietness of the akademiya. you thrived when alhaitham and kaveh, albeit forced by you, watched your makeshift plays about the archons and the dances you created in your head. you were aware they pitied you — kaveh with his dreams of being an architect and alhaitham’s love for all kinds of knowledge were much more suitable for sumeru city than your passions for the arts.

that’s why you never expected them to support you in your decision of going against your father’s wishes to join the akademiya, and running away to the grand bazaar to join a theater troupe at the age of fifteen, inspired by a dream you had with the archon of your nation.

it has been almost ten years, but you still remembered your father’s harsh words as if it had happened just yesterday — of how much of a disappointment you were for the family, how he would be able to explain to his peers and your future master that you decided to throw away the bright future it has been given to you, how ungrateful you were and how other people wished they were on your shoes. your mother remained quiet the whole time, but you never expected her support, too. she always agreed with everything your father used to say, almost brainwashed by the luxuries he displayed in front of her. in a way, she was, and the disappointed looks on their faces weren’t hurtful or a surprise for you.

although, what hurt the most was alhaitham’s reaction.

you had feelings from him ever since you knew what romantic love was, but they could never blossom into something more now, that you planned to run away from your home and probably never see your friends and family again.

kaveh was aware of this too, being your confidant and best friend, trying to persuade you to not give up on everything — alhaitham and the akademiya, but you couldn’t pretend happiness in doing something you hated just because of feelings you didn’t even know if it was reciprocated. if alhaitham really liked you, he would respect your wishes and want your happiness before anything else.

it seemed like he didn’t, having the same reaction as your father — but his words were the ones who brought you to tears, his voice harsher and colder than you’ve ever heard growing up at his side, breaking your heart and cutting your skin like the blade he used to train. you almost gave up on your convictions and stayed in your home and went to the akademiya like your father wished, just to see him looking down at you with anything but the hatred dancing in his eyes.

but you could not. not when lesser lord kusanali appeared to you in a dream, only to tell you to follow your dreams. you could not turn your back against your god and not do what she wished — she was the god of wisdom, and you trusted her judgment.

and that’s why you turned your back to him, running away from your feelings for him and burying them in the deepest part of your heart. though, from time to time, you wondered what happened to him — did he and kaveh become scholars and follow their dreams just like yourself? how was the akademiya treating them? were they happy? had alhaitham found someone he loved more than his books?

you knew such an answer would break your heart even more, but the agony of not knowing was much more worse.

the grand bazaar welcomed you as if you were a lost daughter returning home after many years, and the zubayr theater became your new family. you were finally at the place you were destined to be, doing what you loved — captivating the audience with your movements and expression, bringing the toughest of men to his knees in broken sobs by your performances. the stage for you was like the library to the scholars of the akademiya, and you learned more and more every day you performed.

you weren't alone there, having the company of nilou, your fellow dancer and actress who shared the same passion for the arts and love for the dendro archon, and, despite the age difference between the both of you, you two become fast friends — more than friends you came to notice one day, because the younger girl became like a little sister to you in just a few months of knowing each other. and you couldn’t be happier by following the words of lesser lord kusanali, thanking her every day for whispering her wisdom for you in your dreams.

your days were spent rehearsing and performing, sometimes helping the merchants in the grand bazaar and planning more and more plays with your peers of the zubayr theater. it was like an act of resistance, almost, the performances you did — the people of sumeru were fond of the troupe’s plays, especially the children, and seeing the disapproval looks of the scholars were your fuel to not stop.

it was supposed to be one of those days for you. a dance performance was scheduled in the treasures street, always buzzing with people due to its stalls and merchants, but today was different — you received the intel that a bunch of scholars would be wandering the area, probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more.

probably for a case study of whatever the akademiya was planning. it was the perfect opportunity to show those arrogant scholars at least a glimpse of the wonders of the performing arts, and you couldn’t help but dress like greater lord rukkhadevata was described in the records you remembered reading as a child, just to spite the scholars even more.

you winked at your musician, a teenage boy who held the same spite for the akademiya you did, starting your movements as soon as the sounds of the flute reached your ears. the flowing white sleeves and your long white and green skirt created a beautiful sight alongside the choreography nilou helped you to come up with, and the crowd’s cheers and boos didn’t reach your ears. whenever you were dancing, the outside world was shut down, your senses completely enveloped by the surrounding music. you moved as if you were made of water, a delicacy never seen before in the way your body spins.

your eyes were kept close, as you didn’t wish for an unpleasant view to take your focus away. performing in the open was more difficult than in the grand bazaar — people there, at least, were also enjoyers of the arts. however, you couldn’t just ignore the call to show more people how the arts were a form of wisdom, too.

the music ended, as well as your dance, and you bowed gracefully while opening your eyes to scan the crowd, the boos louder than anything else. but what was supposed to be a swift escape from the scholars and a few guards your vision managed to spot, was cut by a strong hold in your arm, dragging you away from your makeshift stage. too shocked to do anything else, you let yourself be pulled away from the crowd of scholars, their screams now louder that you were in the middle of them.

“take away this scum from our city, scribe!”

your eyes, that were cast down to your feet, widened at such words. scribe was the title your father had before he became a sage, and, even though it didn’t make sense being him the one who was dragging you, your heart still raced with fear. though, when you had enough courage to look properly at your captor when you were a few meters away from the scholars, it was someone who you never thought of seeing again.

those blue eyes, shining with the same rage it shone years ago, still haunted your dreams whenever you closed your eyes.

“let go of me, alhaitham!” you managed to say, besides the lump in your throat.

it was strange to see him, almost ten years after you left your house. alhaitham changed, of course — he was taller and more muscular, and his face was more sharp than it was before, now the face of an adult rather than a teenager’s one. his hair remained the same almost, only a bit shorter, but his eyes were still the ones you remembered from your childhood. you never forgot the exact shade of blue of them, of how the colors merged to create his pupils. they were mesmerizing, but it seemed that they would never look down at you with love on them once more.

“what were you thinking, y/n?” his voice was quiet but demanding, yet he didn't lose his composure, acting as if the rage in his words was nothing. “dancing in front of a crowd of people who hate the arts?” his grip on your arm tightened, and you couldn't find the same comfort you did as a teenager in his presence.

you were angry, far angrier than you originally thought you would be if you saw him again, and sad — even though your heart still beat only for him. “i would have escaped, scribe. like i always did.” venom laced his new title, something so familiar yet foreign. it didn't suit him. he wasn't supposed to follow in your father's footsteps, as if he had replaced his own daughter with her friend. “i had a plan that was ruined by you.”

if the bitterness in your voice affected him, he didn't let it show on his face — but his grip around your arms softened, and you took that as your cue to get away from his touch. his presence alone was too intoxicating, clouding your senses and messing with your better judgment.

little did you know, but you had the same effect on him.

his closed fists weren't because of his rage, but from his urge to hold you between his arms once more — to feel your skin against his fingertips, to run his fingers in your hair and kiss your forehead, to hold you against his chest and tell you how many nights he was kept awake thinking about you. alhaitham was a coward and he was aware of it, knowing you were residing at the grand bazaar and not setting foot in the place, afraid of seeing you in the arms of another with no thought of yours being about him, like all of his were about you.

“and what were you going to do? run away from all those scholars who were clearly offended by your choice of clothing?” he barked back, watching your eyes roll and your arms crossing on your chest. you were beautiful, wearing what the scholars believed were greater lord rukkhadevata's clothes back when she was alive. the color complimented your skin, and the flowing sleeves and skirts made your movements more graceful than alhaitham remembered them to be.

you scoffed. he was just like all the scholars you grew up to hate, arrogant and too confident in his abilities, and it hurt your heart to reach such a conclusion — that your first love was an akademiya scum. “i will not tell you.” you turned your back to him, starting to walk back to where you were, hoping that alhaitham would leave you alone to return home. but, the heavy sounds of his boots were your clue that he wouldn't leave you to your own company. “just let me return home.” you voice was quiet and full of hurt, small, just like alhaitham remembered it to be when your father would scold you.

and he hated the fact that he was the one making you feel like that.

however, he couldn't say sorry and leave you alone — he finally saw you after years of earning for such a meeting to happen and, even though he'd never admit that, he wanted to spend more time with you and know everything that happened in the years you were apart. he could always rely on the akasha to know such information, but things appearing on his mind would never have the same effect as hearing your voice. “you're defenseless. if your father knows that i didn't protect you, i'm a dead man by tomorrow morning.”

his words took you by surprise. “he made you promise this years ago. i'm sure that now he will be delighted if something happens to me.” you bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent the tears in your lashes from falling down, your head turned to the side so he couldn't see them. talking about your father was still a delicate subject for you — as much as you wanted to hate him for all the wrongs he said for you when you were fifteen, the loving and caring father that he was until that day arrived still plagued your thoughts.

alhaitham shrugged. “i don’t care about him, i care about the promise i made, and i will not go back on my word.” you didn’t notice when you both stopped walking, but the gloved hand on your face, wiping the tears away while obligating you to look directly at his eyes, made your body be plagued by shivers and your cheeks to flush in a bright red color.

he was the same alhaitham of your memories, wasn't he? the caring and kind, sometimes a bit too blunt, boy that you met alongside kaveh when you two were exploring the forest — his eyes were still the same, and even though they were now with different emotions than in the last time you saw them, his words still had the same painful effect they did once. did he still think that of you? that you were useless and a fool, that you had thrown away the brightest of futures to a life that wasn't worth it. your brows furrowed, and you got away from his grasp, missing the way his eyes shone with hurt at your rejection of his affection.

but he would fight for you and he would gain your trust again, and alhaitham didn't care for the time this would take. he just wanted you back where you belonged — between his arms and in his life.

—

he stayed true to his word, even if you didn't know about them. all you knew was that he became a constant presence in all your performances, whenever they would be. he was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes after dancing in the honor of the dendro archon, the first person that congratulated you or the person who led you to safety when you decided to perform in front of scholars.

it was annoying, at the beginning. alhaitham always had a critic to say, either being something about the music or the lighting — or even your partners in the performance, especially if they were men, saying that they didn't let you shine like he knew you could alone — but you knew that was his way of complimenting you. he has always been like that, too logical to know how to say a kind word instead of what you should do to make your performance better in the next time. it was almost endearing how he noticed the small details about your dance, like the way your hands moved or the sound your bracelets made when you clapped your hands.

you both were from different worlds, but different worlds that completed each other in ways you never thought it would. the arts and the runes were almost like oil and water, but you and alhaitham made them mix it perfectly.

he also always made sure he was the one who left you at your room's door, perhaps to know that you were indeed safe, and you made the mistake of asking alhaitham if he wanted to come inside the third time he did that.

it was already late in the night when your performance ended, that time at the the neighborhood with nilou, and you tried to argue with him that you didn't need his protection — everyone in the neighborhood knew who you are, and you knew how to fight and knew how to use your pyro vision to burn those who tried to harass you. and as much as he knew that, being the first victim of your vision, he still wanted you at his side. the question left your lips before you could think of it, the gossip that such an action would bring in the inn and in the grand bazaar long gone in your head. just like he wanted to make sure of your safety, you also wanted to make sure of his, too.

you only had one bed, of course, you room enough only to fit one person living there. and as much as he tried to argue with you to let him sleep on the floor, you almost tied his wrists to your bed frame so he could sleep there, knowing that he wasn’t someone who slept much due to the nature of his job in the akademiya. but it seemed that your warmth was enough to make the akademiya's scribe to give up — you both fell asleep with a pillow between your bodies, but you woke up with his strong arms caging you to his chest and his face nuzzled in your neck.

you didn’t dare to move, of course. you couldn’t know how alhaitham’s reaction to such an outcome would be, and the shallow breaths leaving his nostrils were proof enough that he was indeed awake, probably enjoying the few minutes of peace you and your house were granting him. you just nuzzled back on him, hearing him sighing and a pair of lips ghosting your cheek before his warmth left your bed. you only opened your eyes when you heard him moving around your small home. a few words were shared before he left to do his job, a small sandwich in his hands and the promise of seeing you again — though it took one week before that, in a setting that you wished was just a nightmare.

—

zubayr theater had a performance scheduled in the grand bazaar, something that was proposed by you and nilou to bring attention to the place and help the merchants — every time a performance was announced in the city, all the eyes were directed to where it would be. children and women were always more open to the job you and your peers did, always enchanted by the dance moves and theatrics your troupe had to offer, while men and members of the akademiya always looked down with frowns whenever they attended one. you were still warming nilou to the fact that whenever the akademiya members didn’t like it, it meant you were in the right way.

though, however, you never expected to see your father in the crowd.

alhaitham stood proud at his side, though you could see that he was rather uncomfortable — in the short months you spent in his company again since you ran away, you learned what his lack of expression meant. it was just a mask you knew he developed in the years of studying in the akademiya, meant to deceive his peers into thinking that he was above them all, but you could see just by the way his eyes flicked to your form now and then that he wished he was anywhere but near your father. you didn’t know what prompted him to feel such discomfort, wondering if your father was now something more than just a sage in the akademiya, but you knew that you would never know.

you didn’t want to know.

you just trying to ignore his presence in the crowd, his clothes as a sage almost in discrepancy inside the grand bazaar, focusing on the character you needed to portray — as always, the role of greater lord rukkhadevata belonged to you, while nilou was the goddess of flowers. it was a play about the birth of lesser lord kusanali, something that had always been wrapped in mystery to the common folk, and a great source for writers to romanticize and actors to give life to their plays. you were glad you were able to raise curiosity in the hearts of people about the birth of their god, though many of them were still disappointed with the new dendro archon’s lack of great doings.

the performance ended with a round of applause by those who enjoyed it, and some looks of disapproval by those who did not. your eyes scanned the crowd until they found alhaitham’s, but the familiar soft and warm gaze he gave you whenever you ended a play wasn’t there — instead, you were met with cold and calculating eyes, and you didn’t know if he was behaving like that because of your father’s presence or if he finally was persuaded into seeing that you both were from different worlds and how bad it was.

you tried not to be disappointed, nor make the pain in your heart be known by your colleagues, brushing nilou’s worried words with anxiousness — you gave a quick explanation about your father being in the crowd, and she seemed to buy it being the reason for the sadness in your eyes.

after speaking with a few of your admirers, you excused yourself, feigning a bit of tiredness due to the preparations for the performance, smiling at the sight of the merchant’s tents filled with people — they weren’t many, but it was more than you were used to seeing every day. it was such small actions that made everything worthy of it, from running away from the safety of your family and the future your father chose for you to joining a theater troupe and changing your life in a way you only used to dream about, because you were sure you would never be able to help people if you were in the akademiya.

you sighed, hearing rushed voices near your home. you didn’t want to spy on them, but as you recognized the voices to belong to your father and alhaitham, your curiosity took the best of you, hiding between a tree and some brushes.

“i hope you are pleased with my job, grand sage.”

that piqued your interest, hearing alhaitham calling your father by such a title, though your heart fell to your stomach. as much as you wanted to stay there and listen, something inside you told you to just run away and be ignorant — after all, ignorance was a blessing — because if you stayed, you would be heartbroken.

the voice inside you proved to be right, alongside your father’s words.

“i am, indeed, pleased with your job, scribe alhaitham.” azar’s voice was just exactly how you remember it to be when you were growing up, authoritative and unkind. “it is good to get data about those performancers.” they weren’t so close but not too far, and you feared that if you did any abrupt movement your hiding spot would be found — but your fists clenched anyway, anger boiling in your blood by hearing such words. “especially my daughter. i do not want her to disturb any of the students with her foolish ideals. now, because of your help, we can stop her whenever she tries anything.”

you tried not to let the tears that were pooling in your eyes to fall and give them the joy of making you cry after such knowledge, but the sadness inside you was stronger than any other resolution you had. alhaitham was just using you? all the time you two spent together, laughing and rebuilding your friendship, all the soft glances during late nights when he had accompanied you home, and hands brushing your cheek whenever he put a strand behind your ear while whispering goodnight — everything was just a lie for him? just a way for him to gather information about you and your peers to put on that damned akasha, for azar and the other sages to use against you and the other artists?

and you had fallen for it like a puppy.

you thought your childhood crush was something reciprocated, you really did, opening yourself to him like you did to no other man in your life.

“i just did it to protect you.”

his voice took you from your thoughts, your fists still clenched and your nails now draining blood from your palms. how could he? how could he lie so bluntly to you, feigning concern about you? “don’t try to excuse yourself, scribe.” you turned around to meet his eyes, finding them not like you thought they would be — emotionless and even with a bit of mockery shining on them, but they were hurt.

because alhaitham never saw you looking so hurt and angry, not at himself.

“i do not want to see you ever again.”

you left him in the middle of the street with those words, his eyes following your shaking form until you were inside the safety of your house. alhaitham knew that you wouldn’t take his actions well, but he hoped you would never find out what he was doing — because he was, indeed, protecting you. if you did another performance near the akademiya, or near students that would report back to the sages, you would be exiled to the desert just like an insane scholar, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to save you from such a horrible fate.

he sighed, starting to walk back in the familiar way to the akademiya, his heart the heaviest since you left him when you were teenagers.

maybe he just needed to give you some time for yourself, while he pondered what he could do to make you forgive him.

—

one month.

one month since you last saw alhaitham, and you wished you could say that his actions made you hate him — but it didn’t.

it took you a few days to be able to dance and act again, though your eyes always scanned the crowd in search of him. he was never there, and as much as you were the one who said you didn’t want to see him again, you were disappointed. if he did have feelings for you, would he really give up on you like that? it was beyond frustrating what you were feeling, because you couldn’t understand him or his actions — he really thought you would be fine with him using you to gather information for the akademiya, even if it was to protect yourself from the archons’ know what?

and now he just gave up. why wasn't he fighting for you?

or maybe you were wrong, again. maybe he didn’t have feelings for you like you thought he did, and he was really just using you and all the little signals were just a play. if that was the truth, he was a better actor than most people you knew — better than yourself. you would never be able to pretend to have feelings for someone if it wasn’t in a play and you weren’t a character.

as much as you tried to not let your feelings interfere with your everyday life, almost everyone in the grand bazaar noticed that something was wrong. nilou was the first one, the first to notice how puffy and red your eyes were from crying the whole night after the incident with your father and him. though you didn't have the courage to tell her what happened — after all, the dreamy eyes she had whenever you and alhaitham were around, perhaps imagining having a lover like him, didn't pass unnoticed by you — she still knew something happened between the two of you, always offering her support when you needed it. the others were mostly like her, though not as close to you to express their worry verbally.

you lived your life the same it was before you met alhaitham after all those years, though it was harder now. before, his rejection to your young love was just a ghost, something that you would never know — now, however, it was a tangible thing, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you still searched for his presence in your crowds.

you would never learn that oil and water would never mix perfectly, just like you would never learn you and alhaitham would never have meant to be.

that was what kept your shattered heart together, the glue holding all the pieces as thin as the air, and such a fact you came to know when kaveh visited you on a rainy day. you weren't expecting his visit, of course, the day uneventful due to the weather. you were teaching a bunch of little girls some of your favorite dance moves after they came to you when you spotted a tuft of blonde hair adorned with a blue feather and a pair of red eyes that you would always remember as warm.

though kaveh's reappearance didn't shake you up like alhaitham's, his words were far more worrisome.

after a long awaited shared hug between two old friends and some pleasantries coming from both of your mouths, kaveh broke the news, his red eyes shining with a worry you never saw before in them — in fact, you did, on the day you ran away from your father. “i know something happened between you and alhaitham.” he started, his hands on your shoulders holding you at your place.

“kaveh…” you tried, not wanting to hear anything about him. what was kaveh going to say to you? that he was miserable and not himself, because of something he did? it wasn’t fair to you.

he sighed, already in tune with your mannerisms again — you always said you two were platonic soulmates, knowing everything about each other from the top to bottom, being able to communicate with just your eyes. “i’m not here to play his advocate, far from it. i do not know what happened, as he did not tell me, but,” his grip on your shoulders tightened a bit, as if he was trying to prepare you for what was coming. “he was assigned a mission by the sages almost a month ago. a very dangerous one that i was against him going, you see, but the whole situation with you probably made him more prone to accept it. and…”

“...and?” you heart was beating fast inside your rib cage, faster than you ever remembered it beating. a lot of scenarios were playing in your head, and all of them were worse than the other.

“and he was severely injured.” the world around you was spinning, as if the air wasn’t enough to make the blood go to your lungs, making everything dizzy — but you could see the worry on his face. as much as kaveh pretended to hate alhaitham, you knew that deep down he cared about him, and vice-versa. “he is alright now, y/n, he’s being treated in the akademiya’s infirmary now.” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, tears now glossing kaveh’s handsome features.

“why are you telling me this?” such a question was eating you alive. you knew kaveh’s nature wasn’t a cruel one, but what he wanted to achieve with giving you this acknowledgement?

“you’re still so impatient.” he chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with mirth like you remembered it to be. “alhaitham was probably going through some fever illusions and he… he kept calling in your name. in a pained way, saying that he couldn’t die before seeing you again.” you heart skipped a beat at your friend’s confession, even more tears glossing your vision now. alhaitham didn’t have this right, the right to break your heart and transform into dust and then made it whole again.

you felt kaveh’s soft fingers caressing your cheeks, wiping the tears away, the beating of your heart more erratic than ever. “can i see him?” the question left your lips before you could think twice, the idea of him dying hurting more than your broken heart.

kaveh laughed. “i was going to ask you that.”

—

in the way to the akademiya, kaveh told you what happened.

he narrated how he noticed something was off with alhaitham a day when he came back unexpectedly earlier to their house. he was used to finding his roommate with a permanent scowl on his face, but he seemed defeated — his scowl wasn’t the arrogant one that alhaitham always displayed on his face, but something akin to sadness and frustration. kaveh didn’t dare to ask what happened, already knowing what his friend was going to say, so he left the matter behind, deeming it to be problems in his job. during the week, alhaitham closed himself off in the house of daena, as if the books could cure whatever was making him so strange, until he came back home one day, gathering his essential things in a small bag and leaving for a confidential mission for the grand sage.

kaveh only heard about alhaitham again two days ago, when he returned to their home bloodied and weak, and he took him to the infirmary — his wounds were more severely than kaveh thought they were, and while he was in the room to watch the amurta students taking care of him, he heard him muttering your name.

“y/n… i can’t die… her… love… sorry… y/n…” those were the words kaveh told you alhaitham had whispered while he was in agony, probably delirious from either pain or fever. your heart broke even more knowing about this, your feet almost running straight to the infirmary, even though you didn’t know the way there — it wasn’t easy to sneak you in the akademiya, but the raining day meant that a lot of scholars weren’t lurking around, ready to see one of them with a performer from the grand bazaar, and you managed to infiltrate the place where all wisdom was created.

kaveh led you to alhaitham’s room, in a wing full of patients who were labeled as having delicate cases, and you wondered what was the mission alhaitham agreed to go. did he went on it because he wanted, or because he was pressured to go? or he used this opportunity to forget about you, risking his life in the process? you couldn’t bear the idea of being the reason why he accepted such a dangerous mission and risked his life for nothing.

but alhaitham was stubborn, and even if you asked, he would never tell you.

parting ways with kaveh with a hug, you slowly entered the room your childhood friend was being treated in, careful to not make so much noise and awake him — kaveh told you he had been unconscious since he arrived, but you didn’t want to disturb him. what if he hated you now? what if he saw you as the culprit of the state he was in, and now was the one who didn’t want to see you? though his feverish words said otherwise, you were still nervous, like you felt whenever you were about to start a performance.

the room was beautiful, just like everything in the akademiya, with a big window that you thought was supposed to make sunlight fill the room, and some medical instruments around it. but it was plain too, with white and green walls and a bed and some nightstand and a loveseat near the bed, probably for a companion.

you made your way to the bed, your steps as light as a feather falling in the ground, afraid that you could awaken him and disturb his recovery. you just wanted to see him, see if he was well, and then leave — you didn’t know how your reaction would be if you saw him with open eyes, probably too overwhelming to see who just got away from lady death’s grasp.

alhiatham looked peaceful, you noticed as soon as you sat on the bed.

he had no frown adorning his features, and he looked much more healthy than you thought he would — he wasn’t pale and his skin was glowing, even if his face had some small bruises which were decorating his handsome face with a tint of purple. he looked so young, just like the boy you had fallen in love while growing up, and it hurt. it hurt to see him like this and to think what your relationship became just because of the prejudice of your father and the scholars.

you wanted nothing more than to caress his face and kiss his pain away and, before you could think straight, your fingers were already ghosting his cheekbones, going down to his lips and his bruises, feeling his warm skin underneath your fingertips and sighing contently feeling his breath tickling your skin. it was good to know that he was alive and well, and after making sure of that, you retracted your hand back to rest in your lap and knew you were ready to go back to the grand bazaar — would he come after you after his recovery? would he tell you what he was whispering in his agony?

though, before you could leave his bed and the room, alhaitham’s hand grabbed yours, making a surprised gasp to leave your lips.

“don’t go…” his voice was rough and raw, strange on his body after two days of not using it. “i do not know if this is a fever dream or not,” he opened his eyes, blinking it to make sure you weren’t a hallucination. “but don’t leave me again, y/n.”

you smiled, a few tears going down on your cheeks. “i promise, alhaitham.” the hand that wasn’t intertwined with his cupped his cheek, and you leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “go back to sleep, alright? i will be here when you wake up again.”

he nodded, like a small child, closing his eyes again.

—

alhaitham knew people from sumeru couldn’t dream, but why did your lips on his forehead felt so real?

he groaned, the pain on his chest more than just a physical pain. it hurt to know that his brain and heart craved your presence so much that he dreamed about you — was the dendro archon giving him a bit of solace before he came to face the consequences of his actions? he knew he wasn’t supposed to fight a machine monster all by himself, even though he was strong enough to do so, but such a mechanical being wasn’t like the ones he faced before, and he needed to get that capsule of divine knowledge back.

alhaitham thought that perhaps he could redeem himself in your eyes, if he managed to help sumeru and its people somehow.

he got the capsule back, but almost lost himself to it. he didn’t understand how he managed to arrive at his house before collapsing in pain and loss of blood, the journey home being filled with fever dreams of you and what could’ve happened between you both if he was more open about his feelings, if he wasn’t a coward and had fought for you.

but now the past was in the past, and alhaitham couldn’t do anything to change. he could only bask in what his imagination could give him — the softness of your fingers on his face, the sweetest kiss of your lips and its warmth on his skin, the honey laced promise you made him. it would hurt more than any of his bruises the fact that he would wake up alone in such a cold room, with you being so far away from him.

though the sound of footsteps gave him the idea he wasn’t alone. “close the curtains, kaveh, for the archon’s sake.” he muttered, turning around to not be graced with the sun rays on his face.

the sound of a feminine giggle made him furrow his eyebrows, a sound so sweet that he was sure he was still in a fever dream — the last time he heard your giggles was a day before you discovered what he was doing, laughing at his complaints about kaveh. your smile and your laugh were his fuel to keep fighting that mechanical being, the idea of seeing you happy again enough for him to keep going.

“if you want me to call kaveh, just say it.” you voice was laced with mirth, and a bit of concern, totally different from the cold and filled with rage tone you used the last time alhaitham saw you. it was almost comforting the way you seemed more at ease at his presence, though he knew he owed you an apology.

he scoffed. “never.” he turned around once again, opening his eyes to find you sitting on the love seat near his bed. “hi.” he whispered while he watched you walking towards him, all the words dying on his throat at the sight of you.

it was funny how he always had a witty remark to anything said to him, but never to you. your presence made his brain foggy and disoriented, all his thoughts revolving around you. he was just a useless star that couldn’t help but be attracted and circle around you, the sun, that gave warmth to everyone else.

“hi.” you whispered back, your hands fumbling in your lap, as if you didn’t know what to do with them. “how are you feeling?” your voice had a tenderness that alhaitham knew he didn’t deserve coming from you. he’d never deserve your love or your kindness, something so pure and beautiful, even though you might think otherwise.

he tried to chuckle, trying to ease the worry in your brow. “i’ve seen better days.” as much as he wanted to ask why and how you were there, alhaitham wasn’t brave enough to break the blissful bubble you both were in. he was afraid that his words would turn a switch inside you, that you would graze your eyes upon him with the same rage it was filled in the last time he saw you, that your fists would shake and your lip tremble with unshed tears — the love struck and kind look your eyes had was so much better than the fresh of you in his mind.

“i can imagine.” tentatively, you cupped his bruised cheek, fingers gently caressing his skin. he leaned into your touch, a relieved sigh leaving his lips at your display of affection — he was undeserving yes, but alhaitham was selfish and arrogant, and he would never back away from it. yet, the shadow of what happened and the questions from both of your hearts hovered above your forms. “i…” you seemed braver than him, trying to get the acknowledged that would soothe or break your heart even more, but alhaitham couldn’t let you be the one to start — he cut you by trying to get up, indulging your smaller hand on his, the bandages preventing your skin to touch, much to his chagrin.

“let me speak first, y/n. i was the one at fault in the first place.” he watched as you nodded, body coming closer to him, your smell clouding his senses and the only thought in his head was kissing your lips until they were red and raw, seeing you beneath him with red cheeks and disheveled hair. “i know you do not believe me, but i was protecting you when giving information about your troupe to your father.” at the mention of the grand sage, your face became sour — though now more hurt than angered, and alhaitham knew such a change of feeling was good. “you were going to be exiled to the desert, my love.” the term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you, your cheeks becoming hot at the possessive form before it.

you were his.

“i was desperate. i had only found you after being an incognito in my life for almost ten years.” his grip on your hand tightened, and alhaitham sighed. “i’m not asking you to forgive me so easily, but do not look at me with that rage again.” he pleaded, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing your knuckles, his warm lips caressing your skin as if he was worshiping a goddess. “my heart is yours to do whatever you want, and i will endure it, but don’t deny me seeing the love in your eyes be corrupted by such a horrible feeling.”

alhaitham closed his eyes, taking your hand to rest over his chest, ready for your rejection.

“why did you accept this mission?” your voice was quiet, and your words totally different from what his mind told him what they were going to be. “i thought… i thought you had only used me, alhaitham.” your reveal wasn’t a total surprise for him, because he knew his actions were misleading.

“i guess i just wanted to forget what i made you feel.” he admitted, arms coming to wrap around you and bring your body to rest on his chest. it hurt, because his wounds were still fresh, but that was where you belonged. you fitted perfectly between his arms, your face hid in the warmth of his neck and his head resting above yours, your bodies almost melting into each other and becoming one.

his arms tightened around your form when he felt your body shake and his neck wet by your tears. he didn’t try to pry, though his heart ached with your quiet sobs, but he knew you would talk when you were ready — the only thing he could offer now was physical comfort, and even though alhaitham thought he was the worst person to give any kind of comfort, but it was you. you always made his best traits to shine, and the worst ones to become less bad.

after some time, your sobs quieted down and your body stopped to shake, and your voice filled his ears. “you really hurt me, alhaitham.” you were using a scolding tone, as if he had done something bad but something redeemable. “i’ve been in love with you since we were children, and you doing that…”

“you were in love with me since we were children?” his shocked voice made you giggle, your body adjusting so you were straddling him, hands cupping his cheeks and noses touching. alhaitham’s cheek were tinted with red, a sight that you never saw before but something so mesmerizing that you wanted it belonged to eternity — his eyes were lidded, pupils wide with a mix of love and lust, his hand gripping your hips to bring you even closer to you.

another giggle left your lips when he kissed a spot near your lips. “for being the akademiya’s scribe, you’re a bit stupid, my beloved.” you managed to say before his lips were attacking yours, in a kiss that — even though it was delayed for ten years — was the testimony of his endless love for you.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham angst #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin fluff

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love-bitesx · 1 year

Note

what would hobie do in a situation where reader, who’s a new spider person (like pavitr, like they got bitten by the spider few months ago or smth) had just went through their canon event?? whether it be what he would do after the event or during is completely up to you, im just curious and i have hobie brainrot rn LMAOAOAO

ofc if u don’t wanna do this request thats completely fine, have a good rest of ur day/night!!

hobie x gn!reader

warnings: death, family member dying, very (very) brief description of a dead body, but nothing graphic at all. hobie just wants u to be safe n happy :( he’s been through that grief and his heart hurts knowing you’re abt to go through it too :(

you couldn’t move.

your watch emitted a blaring, shrill alarm, miguel desperately trying to make contact, but you were frozen. bones aching, numb, all you could do was stare at the scene in front of you with watery eyes.

“i-,” your body betrayed you, catching your words as they try to escape, clawing at the walls of your throat as they get dragged back down into the growing pit in your stomach. falling to your knees, numb to the feeling of rubble against your bones, you picked up a slab of concrete and threw it to the side.

“uncle ben.”

it was all you could muster, voice small and hoarse, and if a mouse had squeaked at the same time, you would’ve lost in comparison. shaking hands rising to touch his face, a strangled choke broke out at the cold, lifeless skin that met your trembling fingertips. he looked strangely peaceful, sending a bolt of pain directly to your heart.

“no-no, please, uncle ben,” your thoughts unravelled, grabbing at his shirt, as if you could shake the life back into his bones, “please, i can’t do this– i can’t do this without you.”

you’d only been a “spider person” for 4 months. only 4 months of navigating the most isolating, terrifying journey with no one but your dear uncle by your side. he’d grown with you, seeing you muster from dangling off climbing frames in playgrounds as a child, to scaling buildings and saving lives. not a day went past when he wasn’t there with you, holding your hand through the unfathomable changes.

it all happened so quickly. one moment, you’re fighting an anomaly, bashing around the streets of your earth, leading the monster further away from the crowds – until it threw itself, headfirst into a neighbouring building, office blocks, you think to yourself, nothing too serious. that is, until you trap it, ready to send it back to miguel with ease, and lay eyes on the scene it left behind. people crushed under concrete, glass shattered the streets, and a familiar face unconscious on the pavement.

“y/n,” a voice sounds from behind you, but your soul is too busy trying to claw it’s way out of your chest to notice, or care. you laid on his unmoving torso, heart ripping at the vacancy of its usual heaving.

“y/n,” it sounded again, and a twang of familiarity shone its way through the darkness.

“he’s–” you sobbed, reluctantly lifting your head, “i couldn’t save him, i– it’s all my fault, hobie.”

“shh, come ‘ere,” you barely felt his arms wrapping around you, your body was numb. it’s like you were a ghost, haunting your own skin – a poltergeist in the wind.

regardless, you fell into him, gripping his leather vest until your knuckles were white. sobbing into his chest, his ringed hand came up to calm you, running it softly over the curves of your spine, voice low as he whispers into you, “it ain’t your fault, love.”

“you two, you need to get back—” miguel’s voice came booming from a growing portal, spider-people spilling into your dimension, ready to bring the anomaly home, until hobie cut him off sternly.

“fuck off, miguel,” he spat, pulling his arms tighter around you, feeling as though if he held you close enough, he could shelter you from the grief. maybe, if he kept you in his arms, he could carry the burden of your loss on his own studded shoulders. but, he knew he couldn’t, he’d been there before – they all had. all he could do was be there for you, a hand to hold and shoulder to cry on.

and so that’s exactly what he did.

“love, gonna come stay with me for a bit, yeah?” he whispered into your hair, and you nodded weakly, his heart surged, “just ‘til you feel a’ight.”

he placed a kiss – gentle, safe – to your forehead.

“i’ll look after you, darlin’.”

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thetxtdevil · 2 months

Text

The Haunted House

~Chapter 1~

Ghost Beomgyu x You x Ghost Taehyun

summary: You move into a very obvious haunted house, but you're not running away since the house is cheap and you're not afraid of any ghosts. Only afraid of talking to them.

content: introduction, paranormal themes, human fem.reader, beomgyu and taehyun are implied but not truly introduced

word count: 1.6k

Chapter: 1 -> 2 -> 3 -> ...

Dark cloudy skies loom over the old wood of the house before you. You could’ve sworn that creaking sounds came from the house almost tipping over. It was an original Victorian-style mansion not considered a mansion in these modern days but still big for you to live alone. The brick exterior made the building look taller than it was, with steep roofs that pointed sharp making birds awry to conjure about it. Its intense atmosphere however had some fun characteristics with rotted-away gold trimming, faded colors of stained glass windows, and the wooden porch steps indented in the middle as a sign of once frequent use.

There was no doubt that this place was haunted. The place even contrasted with the neighbors’ bright green grass lawns and summer-colored houses. Never been on the market for its history, but of course, you had to blab your mouth to the real estate agent and say that you don’t have a lot to offer and you come from a long line of spirit mediums. The agent put two and two together and now you’re here, taking your first step the wood crumbles underneath your feet. Looking up in disgust at the agent the woman laughs and continues to show you around.

The front door creaks open revealing an even darker interior, coated with dust each step you take leaves a trail of footprints not to mention the suspicious footprints you see already made going into another room. Heading into the family room the space was cozy, your eye caught the grand fireplace walking towards it to take a better look. You imagine the crackling sounds of the fire and the warmth hitting your face. Looking up on the mantle the only decorations left in the house seemed to be two framed pictures of young men. Inquisitively picking up one photo surprised by the stark blond adorned on his dark hair, quite unusual at his time.

“This house does need a lot of fixing but it's been taking up a valuable lot so we would give you extra money to help renovate if you take it”

Putting the picture back on the mantle, you chuckle “So you’ll pay me if I move into this house.”

The lady nods, fear consuming her aura, eyes watering, eyebrows tilted, you can tell she wants to make a deal right away so she can leave the place. You lean your head up breathing in the dust almost reminding you of the scent of pages of a book. You continue to look around at the beauty that hides behind the vacancy. Going back to the two pictures of the men you suddenly feel an unexplainable warmth blanket you.

“I’ll buy the house.”

❈❈❈

You come from a long line of spirit mediums but your body and mind have yet given in to the gift of speaking to ghosts. Maybe your mother was wrong and you didn’t have the power or perhaps you secretly didn’t want to have any connections with the dead. You became tired of the constant tarot card readings depicting you as the fool, your mother constantly saying it’s telling you to embrace the tradition but you ignore it. Not making a life as a medium you went another route of becoming a nurse in the ICU. You’re still surrounded by death but at least you can cheat it and not have to see what comes after the heart monitor stops.

You have become accustomed to brushing sounds for the past few weeks. It was taking a lot of your time trying to scrub years of dust off the cracks and crevices of the house. The first thing to do is fix the porch stairs you broke through and the rest of the porch wood. Calling builders who were experts in renovating such things you divert your attention to other matters the molded torn wallpaper. The leftover burgundy wallpaper was faded, and some parts drooped down showing off a dirty cream wall. Tearing away the paper a domino effect happens, you jump at the sudden movements of all the wall coverings being torn down. Walls cleaned and primed you open a can of emerald green paint, dipping your roller brush, and you start covering the panels.

“Wow, do you need help?” a worker from the porch says. You look at him with disgust, you just started painting why would he judge so soon? Bending down to absorb more paint into the brush you straighten your posture to notice the walls already covered with the vern color. You spin around seeing the whole house was already poorly painted. Walking closer to an area of the wall that hasn’t been touched you study the way the paint has finger-like swipes running through the yet-to-dry pigment. Your head starts to feel heated a warmth consumes you making your vision falter, a green handprint materializes before you slowly streak down. Your mouth dry you decide to walk away, thinking the toxic fumes are already killing most of your brain cells.

❈❈❈

The Victorian house was restored to its former glory, it was less daunting than before but you kept its darker aesthetic to match the peculiar nature. The musky scent of mature wood was long gone and now had a fresh new car smell mixed with your vanilla candle enveloping the entire estate. The walls were cluttered with pictures, shelves as little trinkets, and cozy furniture that made the house seem a little smaller than it was. All is well except for one thing, you constantly have to vacuum up dust bunnies that trail around the house. Another thing that you have yet to renovate is a locked portion of the house. You would think the realtor would give you the key but that wasn’t the case. The dusted footprint trails to this mysterious room all the time, you were not excited to see how overgrown it looked behind the closed doors.

Rummaging through each closet, drawer, and corner of the house to find the key. A glimmer shines in your eye when you walk past the entertainment room. The wooden floors were sturdy and creaked every so often but the shine came from one tiny hole in a floorboard. Kneeling, you curl your finger in the hole opening the floor and there you see a key. Eyes widen in victory once you move your hand to grab it a sudden chill rushes through you the wood falls and slams on your hand. “OW” you hiss grabbing your hand and rubbing the pain away, “you really don’t want me to get in there do you?”

You were talking to yourself and the key, but after thinking over the unexpected motion of the woodboard you might be talking to someone else. Quickly reaching for the key, your suspicions came true when you watched the panel lift to drop down where your hand would have been. Someone doesn’t want you to go through the locked doors. Contemplating the consequences that might occur when you do go through those doors, you stare at the key in your hand the metal feels weird against your palm. One second the item felt warm and heavy pushing your hand down and another second the metal turned cold and light.

You made up your mind, this is your house and you’re going to see everything you own. Snatching the key so the sensations stop, you get up to walk toward the double doors. The closer you get faint wispy sounds evolve into whispers however the conversation isn’t quiet it seems like an argument between two people that you couldn’t hear clearly. The voices stop when you push the key into the keyhole. The doors went flying open revealing an extraordinary library, walking in and spinning around to see the walls filled with books you felt like the beauty who was shown the beast’s castle library with high ceilings to fit the many bookshelves that shined from the tall windows. The curtains were outdated and probably held a family or two of spiders, and the books seemed in good condition compared to everything else in the room as if they were constantly opened and read. Turning around once more to see another fireplace in the house and above it a big painting of the two men from the mantle of the living room’s fireplace. As you walked closer, you couldn’t help but feel like their brown eyes were following you. Strangely alluded to the men, their beauty seemed more advanced almost touchable. How you would love to talk to them, play with the long strands of hair on the taller one, slice your finger against the other’s sharp jawline.

As your arm extends to touch the delicate colors of the painting a big smack awakens you. Looking around to find the cause of the sound you see an open book on the floor. Forgetting the two men’s painting you walk over to pick up the novel. Getting closer to the open page you’re hesitant at the illustration that is shown before you the book was a guide to tarot readings. The page shows Nine of Swords, from your memory of the meaning someone wants you to fear them, you felt sick instantly getting anxious as to what is to come. Looking back at the big painting you see the two men were gone, a painting of deep reds and black. An unexplainable gust of wind strikes you like a cold sharp dagger into your gut sweeping you off your feet.

You lay there unconscious shivering with closed eyes hiding your fears.

-> Chapter 2

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt thoughts #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #taehyun scenarious #taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #beomgyu x you #taehyun x you

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orangeave · 10 months

Text

not even ghosts are this empty

wednesday addams x gn!reader

summary: you dug a grave for two but you lay in the casket alone.

words: 1.2k

orange speaks: part two to the great war, with more angst (whoops?). hope y'all enjoy.

Plumes of smoke echo slowly out of your mouth, the blunt in your hand burning the edges of your fingers. You make no move to ease the subtle ache, secretly enjoying the weight of the blisters that form in their wake. A cough flowers in your throat when you inhale the sharp sting of night air afterwards but you hold it in place, forcing it to expand downward to create a rattle in your chest. It encompasses the entirety of your ribcage, swallowing the meat of your organs whole.

The sensation is fleeting and you mourn it as it fades. There’s an emptiness that follows, one you’re making an unwilling acquaintance with since you left Wednesday’s dorm those short months ago. Time has been infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, passing by in hiccups of memory that never truly stick.

The first few days following that night go by in denial, refusing to believe you had lost her. A hollow ticking resounding in your ears proves it to be true; vaguely signaling a countdown that tells you that you now carry a solar flare where your heart should reside, and it’s only a matter of time before it implodes.

Loving Wednesday isn’t easy but neither is letting her go, and when the denial dwindles into tormenting acceptance, you are left with only the ghosts of her. They haunt each corner of your existence – both mental and physical – creating dark circles beneath your eyes that resemble tattoos more than they do skin.

You attempt to exorcise Wednesday from your being and the vacancy within you becomes a cathedral; you pray at its illusionary, cobblestone steps but you are bent at the knees before a false god, incapable of offering reprieve. Wraiths have risen in relief’s stead – fallen too far to be ghosts any longer – and they are starving, snarling at the altar of your shortcomings. You will find no peace here when your body, laden with a lifetime of grief that ages you, is pirouetting upon crumbling earth.

Resorting back to the roach in your trembling hands, you yearn for it to bring some semblance of life into the space you ache to fill. As you exhale, a shadow gathers in your peripheral in the shape of a girl you cannot escape.

“I see you’ve come to dislike functioning lungs.” Wednesday dishes out, coming to stand by your sitting limbs that stretch out into the pond in front of you. Fathoming why she’s here, in the spot that once belonged to the two of you, is something you can’t grasp.

Casual conversation is the last thing you want to participate in. It feels cheap; hollow. You deserve more than astute observations and meaningless slights. Something she’s averse to giving you, it seems, and the part of you that continues to die in its place hates her for it.

Youthfulness is forgotten when you are a rotting carcass forcing itself to breathe to a tempo that no longer comes naturally, dangling on flimsy strings that Wednesday commands, waltzing to the tune of her desires. A puppet master is what she is and you find no solace in this dance, not when the past lingers so close to the surface; of who you were to each other but will seldom be again.

“Something like that.” You monotone, a slight shrug lifting your shoulders.

There’s a tense set to her own shoulders at your response, the lack of expression in your voice pulling her entire body taut. A vengeful part of you revels in it, only to diminish into nothingness just as quickly, as everything else before it has.

Your desolate eyes finally raise to meet Wednesday’s, causing hers to widen almost imperceptibly. They trace the heavy bags beneath your lashes then down to your still shaking hands and you come to understand her astonishment because up till now, you’ve managed to avoid her – a feat you were proud of.

“Y/N…” She murmurs, reaching out for you. Wednesday’s fingers barely get the chance to brush against your arm before you’re recoiling away from the touch, water splashing up into your lap from where your legs hang in the pond.

Oh, god.

There’s something to be said about the inbetween of dreams and reality; a certain dissonance that easily perpetuates the disruptive cognitive faults which riddle a half-aware person that the past haunts. Nightmares of memory which lead to dark, twisting backdrops that muddy the truth and serve to create monstrosities of unchecked thoughts.

Falling asleep has always been a terrifying experience for you. In a moment's notice, you are suddenly the backseating, side character in the fluttering reel of torment plagued by the emergence of day. You have absolutely no control over the fate of each suffering you were forced to face and only hold the capacity to watch as it unfolds once again.

You are not asleep but you have spent the past months half-awake, and Wednesday’s touch yanks you right back to that night where your roles were in reverse. The details are still so fresh and it’s too much. It’s not fair the hold she has on you even now.

“No, you don’t get to do this. Not now.” Your voice cracks, clumsily lifting your limbs from murky depths and rising to your full height. Water cascades down your form, leaving you shivering in the night air. A gasp chokes in your throat, panic seizing you and the ticking in your ears reaches a deafening roar. “I- After all this time, why now?”

Wednesday hesitates, the pause hanging in the air between you.

“Say something!” You bellow, panic turning into anger at her silence.

She shrinks back as you close the distance between you and it is wholly unlike her but you ignore it, invading her space.

“I will never be good enough for you, will I?” You unevenly gasp out, realizing a long forgotten truth, “I plead, and I bargain, and I sacrifice, in the name of love. To heal the cracks in our façade but you stand before me, stoic as the day I met you, and give absolutely nothing in return.”

Her eyes follow your stance, expression shuttering to impassive and unseeing – hollow in a way you’ll never be able to change. All the anger drains out of you and when she goes to finally respond, mouth tentatively opening as she comes to know the sickness sinking beneath your mirage that you were never able to cleanse, you simply shake your head.

In loving and losing her, you have lost yourself. You no longer know how to breathe air she does not exhale and disgust flares at who you’ve become; at who you’ve let her make you. Some cowardly thing, bent to the whims of a devil in the disguise of a god.

Love is a fickle thing, so easily transforming into a monstrous being when betrayal hangs heavy in the space once wrought with the finer side of a bottled heaven. The feeling you welcome in love’s place should terrify you – for a moment, it does – but power is a corrupter in the hands of a widow.

The implosion within you is beautifully damning – strings held in commandeering fingers snap, the corpse of you reborn in the ash of your submissiveness; flesh of the burnt coagulating into an armor made to pressurize the weight of your footsteps until the force of them cracks the earth, widening the gap of reality between the duality of life and death till it is but a mere phantom pain.

Say, what’s a soul really worth?

You’ve already lost everything, what’s a little more?

(– vultures have come to feast upon your bones; only the vulture is you and you’ve gorged upon yourself.)

#wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagines #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega

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scribble-dribble-writes · 7 months

Text

Pt 3 - And if I loved you any less, I’d be able to talk about it more

<<<prev next>>>

—

Crosshair x reader

—

And so he didn’t want to stop. He had everything under control and now he didn’t want to anymore. His calloused hands sunk to your hips and fit perfectly.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you drew closer, to not give him a chance to pull away because he had to know the depths at which his disappearance had destroyed you.

To sit silently as the nights passed watching his old armour stuffed in a box. The vacancy he had left was huge, he was the only one who could look into your eyes and reassure you that everything would be alright and when he wasn’t here by your side, it was torturous.

He groaned against your lips and it rooted you to the present that by some lucky chance he had survived. He found his window to escape and he took it. How you had gotten to his private quarters neither could tell.

His long legs stumbled as he hit the corner of his bed and as he fell, he took you with him.

Pressed on top of each other, your hands splayed on his metal vest. You pulled away as you drew your breath and his eyes flashed a hint of colour.

It was this damn island, he had thought. The laid back air had gotten to him, he criticised himself as his finger tucked your hair behind your ear. His soft panting matching your breathlessness. He could not make sense of it when all at once his guarded heart had its gates wide open. Only for you. The others can wait.

Did you miss me?, he wanted to ask but thought better of it.

He had survived by thinking his brothers were dead but more than the pain from the medication, the thought of having lost you was worser. He could not come to terms with it so easily, if he could have made it out, to only be greeted with the news that the empire had gotten to you too. His only vain hope was you would survive and that kept him going as they contained him like a mad animal in a cage. The thought of you and the sound of his name on your lips were the only anchor that propped him up.

But any thought of that treacherous place was an instant tick, his hand began to shake and he watched as your eyes widened. He bit through, he didn’t want to retreat, he held your waist with conviction that if he pleaded for his past he would somehow be redeemed if you deemed it so.

“What did they do to you?”, you whispered as your eyebrows knit together and resolve settled in the grey swirls of his eyes.

“Everything possible to break me.”, he said slowly, his eye flitting to your lips again as though the only one who had the ability to do that was you.

You inhaled sharply.

You haunted my dreams, you wanted to say but instead cusped the side of his face.

He leaned into it, closing his eyes that as though these gestures were enough to answer these hidden questions.

“And did they?”, you asked, your eyes fixed on his but he relaxed, his finger tips soaking in the warmth of your skin.

“Not quite.”, he responded as the edge of his mouth tipped up.

You drew your finger down his jawline as you felt the scruff on his skin till you got to his chin, which you tilted for him to catch your eyes again.

“What?”, he drawled sarcastically.

“This feels like a dream.”, you said to which he hummed.

His hands pulling away your hair to the side to expose your neck.

“It does.”, he whispered as he planted kisses down the length of your neck.

A soft chuckle burst from within your chest and it felt like a reward to his ears. He brought your lips to meet his as he kissed you with renewed hunger.

Out of control. He didn’t want to be tamed anymore.

You straddled the sides of his waist. His moan that turned into a laugh made you see the stars.

“I know you just put your uniform on.”, you spoke in between his kisses that he didn’t let you finish your sentence.

“Take it off.”, he spoke into your skin, an urgent plea, an order.

But with his hand tangled in your hair, he stopped to draw his breath but he placed his forehead of yours. His warm breath cascading down your lips, his chest heaving as though he didn’t want the burden any more.

“Take it off.”, he said more softly like he didn’t want any artefact of this war between you and him.

You kissed his forehead as your hands worked away the clasps on his armour, you pulled away the pieces and he removed his undershirt. Till your finger felt the soft touch of skin.

He gasped and his eyes locked onto you.

All his scars and broken pieces lay scattered in front of you, but he didn’t seem to shy away now.

“Let me put you back together.”, you placed your hand over his racing heart.

He didn’t answer, even before the words had left your mouth, his had found yours. Like he had been waiting for this very moment. To find you so he can be whole again.

#crosshair tbb #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair bad batch #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair x oc #crosshair

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sstarparade · 2 months

Text

Dungeon Meshi Characters as MCR Songs

Enjoy me forcing my interests together for no one except myself!

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Falin Touden - The End

"Save me! (Get me the hell out of here) Save me! (Too young to die and my dear) You can't! (If you can hear me, just) Save me! (Walk away, yeah)"

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Laios Touden - S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W

"Make a wish when your childhood dies. Hear the knock, knock, knock when she cries. We're all alone tonight. Hold your breath when a blackbird flies. Count to 17 and close your eyes. I'll keep you safe inside."

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Marcille Donato - The Ghost of You and Sleep

"And all the things that you've never ever told me. And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me. Never coming home, never coming home. Could I? Should I?"

"Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying."

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Izutsumi - Our Lady of Sorrows

"Stand up fucking tall, don't let them see your back. And take my fucking hand and never be afraid again. Just because my hands around your throat."

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Chilchuck Tims - Headfirst for Halos

"I'm back in the middle of the day that starts it all. I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling. And now, these red ones make me fly. And the blue ones help me fall. And I think I'll blow my brains against the ceiling now"

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Senshi - House of Wolves

"You better run like the devil 'cause they're never gonna leave you alone. You better hide up in the alley 'cause they're never gonna find you a home."

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Shuro - Early Sunsets Over Monroeville

"Not knowing you changed from just one bite. I fought them all off just to hold you close and tight"

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Kabru - Planetary (GO!)

"If my velocity starts to make you sweat. Then just don't let go. And if the heaven ain't got a vacancy. Then we just, then we just, then we just. Then we just get up and go!"

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Thistle - Give ‘Em Hell, Kid

"Well I'm a total wreck and almost every day. Like the firing squad or the mess you made. Well don't I look pretty walking down the street. In the best damn dress I own?"

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#dungeon meshi #my chemical romance #marcille dungeon meshi #falin dungeon meshi #laios dungeon meshi #izutsumi #chilchuck #senshi #shuro dungeon meshi #kabru dungeon meshi #thistle dungeon meshi #sstar rambles

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burninlovebutler · 2 years

Text

Just an Intern // Part 2

pairing: austin x fem!reader - word count: 8k-ish

warnings: SMUTSMUT, moody arrogant asshole!austin, ANGST, hand job, fingering, use of a faucet, multiple o's, overstimulation, mild SA (groping), name calling, masturbation, arguments, physical altercation (not with y/n), alcohol, getting caught, blowjob, 69, p in v (unprotected), inaccurate descriptions of a movie set, 18+ ONLY. MDNI

PART 1 | PART 3 | see my masterlist for all other fics ♡

summary: When your one-off fling returns to the set of Bikeriders after a hiatus, you're overwhelmed with need to make him notice you again. Due to an unforeseen snow storm, you and your crew are snowed in at the nearest ski resort with… limited vacancies.

Special thanks to: @cryingabtab & @lindszeppelin for helping revise this ♡

I miss the way you say my name The way you bend, the way you break Your makeup running down your face The way you fuck, the way you taste When the curtains call the time Will we both go home alive?

After the… incident, you held your pride and decided (stupidly) to not tell Austin how much money his little act had cost you in shattered makeup. However, this only resulted in him sneak in a whopping $500 into your makeup kit. But of course, you were a glutton for defiance so, when he was on set, you’d slip the bills back into his wallet. That game went back and forth for a couple rounds, but you never spoke about it, all silent. Finally, you gave in one day when you found the money in your own wallet after your busted VW Bug had given you trouble that morning.

It went like that between you two pretty much the entire time he was still on set – quiet, weird, and awkward. You fully expected him to go back to the same asshole behavior, but he didn’t, practically pretending you didn’t exist. The ‘Intern’ nickname never retiring though it was seldom used. You were invisible to him, which at first at least, was comforting.

On a crisp fall Wednesday morning you were pleasantly surprised to find the man you had this strange dynamic with, left to shoot another movie, leaving you back with the cast you were familiar with.

That night which just so happened to be the Saturday of Halloween weekend, you were invited to some big Hollywood rooftop party. You went as Harley Quinn since it was last minute and it was the only Halloween costume you had since 2017. Not surprisingly you found a Joker that was fairly attractive and ended up hooking up in the bathroom. As the spray painted green-haired influencer slid in and out of you, you couldn’t help but think about Austin. The way he fucked you against the door, the way he talked to you, the way he looked at you, even his moans filled your head.

As much as you wanted to ignore it, the thought of him was the cause of many sleepless nights. Many nights you couldn’t sleep until you’d fucked yourself dizzy with the thought of him. After Halloween, you’d spent the next month trying to fuck anything even remotely attractive trying to replicate the feeling Austin haunted you with. Yet you fell short in your fruitless efforts. Every Tinder date was just another pump and dump or two second loser or worst of all - those cringey wannabe ‘daddy doms’.

It drove you INSANE, how could this asshole had wormed his way into your brain. The same one who called you all sorts of names, threatened your job and humiliated you in front of the whole cast.

In the time he was gone you’d been promoted head makeup artist since Carol had for some ominous reason been fired. It gave you a sort of pride knowing that upon Austin’s inevitable return, you wouldn’t be just an ‘intern’ anymore.

On a particularly cold morning you sleepily opened your trailer door to find a familiar face sitting in your seat – Austin. Your stomach flipped and you hated it, goddamnit you hated it. Why did your body throw butterflies like grenades into your tummy at the sight of him?

“Long time no see Intern.” He stated without even looking up from his phone.

“Morning Actor.” Your tone came out more displeased than intended, his attitude and the nickname reminded you of exactly why you despised him in the first place. You opened your kit and started picking out products, to coordinate for his character.

“You know the scene this time?” He asked finally bringing his attention to you.

His question confused you, ‘this time?’ what the fuck did that mean – until you remembered that was the first thing he asked you that first day in the trailer. Your standards showed just how low they were when you found yourself finding it endearing that he remembered such a small detail.

“I do.” You replied beginning to place product on his face, “Do you know what scene this time?” Flipping the memory back on him. He just grumbled a yes.

The feeling of seeing him again felt familiar to the feeling of when you miss your family and then once you’re around them for about 10 minutes you’re reminded of just why you left home in the first place. Except it only took 10 seconds with Austin. Your stupid masochistic brain kept urging you to ask questions-

‘where’ve you been?’

‘what’ve you been filming?’

‘are you excited about this next scene?’

‘are you happy to be back?’

And the worst of all, ‘did you miss me?’

But why would you even care to ask that? You knew the answer and you didn’t miss him.

Right?

Why would you miss this asshole?

Lost in your thoughts, there was no conversation, no interaction. Just stale awkward silence that made your heart pound in your head and your hands tremble.

The weather was a stark contrast to the last time he’d been on set at the last location. It was November but there hadn’t yet been snowfall. Your services were called for 45 minutes in and you went to Tom Hardy first – not only did you want to avoid Austin but you and Tom had grown a much closer friendship.

“Hey Pup! You’re just who I needed to see this morning.” He smiled warmly. Immediately you felt a glare fall on you both.

You chuckled and began touching up his makeup, “Oh yeah and why’s that?”

“Well, you always cheer up my mornings! But I also wanted to ask you a question?” He tried his best to stay still while you worked on him. You nodded indicated for him to continue. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You almost choked on your own spit, that was the last thing you thought to come out of his mouth. Though you knew it wasn’t about him since he was married, and he treated you like a father. You felt the stare from before boring into you more. You cleared your throat, “Um, no. I’m not currently seeing anyone. Why?”

“Oh well I just wanted to make sure because I saw you with that guy from the Halloween party-“

You cut him off immediately, “Yes and? Why?” The stare from Austin intensified even more, you swore it could burn right through you.

“Oh well,” He laughed, “One of the crew guys wanted me to ask you. I’m not allowed to say who though.” He added emphasis on ‘say’ followed by his eyes moving over to one of the black haired tattooed stagehands.

Landon

The hot, toned sound tech had been making advances at you since Austin left. He had taken over Austin’s role as your tormentor, though he wasn’t as bad or fun. You wanted to roll your eyes and dismiss the comment, but what fun would that be? Tom had just given you some bullets for your gun.

You turned slightly to see him across set and give him a little wave when he notices you. “Hm… that’s interesting.” You hummed then gave a shrug, “He is pretty cute.”

Landon was quite different than Austin – dark hair, muscular, tattoos, angular face, even taller than him. It was no secret that Landon had a thing for you, he made it quite obvious with various offhand comments and failed date requests. While his attempts sometimes overstepped, they were mostly innocent, but there was something about him that made you feel uneasy – or maybe it was because you constantly compared him to Austin.

You didn’t want to move on to the infuriating actor, especially since the comment about Landon but you needed to. You began adding some powder to his face.

“Halloween party huh?” He questioned without missing a beat.

“I went to a Halloween party, yes.” You replied in a harsher tone, “Not that that’s any of your business.” When you stepped backwards to check your work you notice that his lips are chapped; probably from the cold. You took out a brand new chapstick and gently tapping it on his plump lips. The full pinkness of them reminded you of how they felt on your neck last time and the stir in your core confirmed it.

This set wasn’t much different from the last, a Western looking town that was supposed to be a different area in the movie. Wooden buildings lined a strip littered with faux shops and stores, some used for different inside scenes. And of course, motorcycles all over.

After the interaction over Landon that morning, things had been unusually calm from Austin. So unusual in fact that he was barely acknowledging you. But that’s what you wanted wasn’t it? To not bother you? But it felt more like a frustrating punishment than anything. You wanted to get his attention but wasn’t sure how, it was freezing cold and you couldn’t use your short dresses anymore.

There was something you could use – Landon.

Austin’s demeanor had changed after the mention of him and had shot lasers into you when you spoke about him – so perhaps provoking the lion may be exactly what you needed to regain his attention.

Predictably, Landon lingered near you when you worked near set trying to map out certain looks and glanced over at Austin to see if you were in his eyeline. Once you guaranteed his focus, his eyes briefly meeting yours, you called over Landon.

“Hey,” You smiled flirtatiously, “You think I could get your opinion on this?”

His ego visibly boosted, “Yeah sure. Oh yeah-“ He lifted a box full of candy canes, “You want one? We accidently ordered a million for Christmas.”

The corners of your mouth immediately curled up, candy canes.

Your banana stunt had shaken Austin so much last time – this would be so much better. You could properly show him how much you had thought about his cock in your mouth.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirked, plucking a cane-shaped candy. Once again you felt eyes tracking you, it was almost like you could hear him saying ‘don’t you fucking dare’.

You peeled the plastic off the bottom end, wrapped your lips around the middle and dragged your lips down the sugary treat.

You over animated your flirtatious gestures with Landon, pausing with the candy in your mouth and cheeks hollowed. You took it up a notch by getting touchy with him, landing a hand on his arms and giving the obligatory fake playful laugh. Landon was eating it up, you almost felt bad that you were leading him on.

Only half way through your snack you were called for a touch up. When you finally got to Austin, lithe legs propped at each side of his bike. The reminder of you straddling his bike last time stirred the exact feeling as when you left your wetness on his seat last time. His makeup is visibly messed up, like he purposely smeared his fingers through his foundation. “What the fuck did you do?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“I didn’t do anything.” He replied blandly, his tone filtered behind some wall, “Can you just fix it?”

Your eyes rolled involuntarily, “Yeah.”

Midway through your application you noticed his jaw clench before speaking again, “I know what you’re doing.” Grumbling, his eyes struggling to not focus on your mouth holding the cane while you worked.

You slid it past your freshly glossed lips, “’I didn’t do anything.’” You mimicked him from just earlier.

His gaze darkened now not even hiding it’s focus on your mouth, “You have to stop that.” He looked you dead in the eyes that time.

You got exactly what you wanted. His attention. Power.

He eyed you like prey, indigo eyes locked back on your lips that housed the candy. You could tell he wanted to play, he wanted to invest in your little game but the playfulness in his blues was vacant. “Cut it out.” He repeated lowly and through gritted teeth so no one would hear.

You smirked like a brat as you leaned down to his eye-line, “Or what?” Your cheeks hallowed as you slowly sunk the cane back into your mouth, how far could you really tease him? You wanted to see what he’d do about it.

In a swift motion he snatched the candy cane from your lips bringing it between his molars and roughly snapping it in half with a crunch. “Don’t you fucking listen? I told you to cut it out.” Nearly growling and shoved the now broken candy into your hand. Your cheeks blushed at the feeling of the surrounding crew catching the incident and you caught him looking embarrassed, as if he had just made a scene at dinner.

Directors called to shoot again, and you noticed his readjustment when you left.

Your little stunt worked, all throughout the scenes he watched you like a hawk. You made sure to take your time withering down the rest of the sugary stick, making sure he knew just how slow. After a while it became a game, the more you distracted him the more times they yelled cut. The more times you got to see him hide his physical reaction to you. You could see the annoyance building in him. Deep down you were almost scared at how he’d react once you had to interact again. But you definitely wanted to find out.

And when they called for a 30 the fear settled in the pit of your stomach when he stomped over you at your section. Before you had a chance to even respond, he discreetly gripped your wrist, hiding it from the dissipating crew from set. Leaning closer into you he muttered, “When everyone files out, you’re coming with me.”

You pointlessly tried to wriggle from his tight grip, “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you.”

His hold only tightened around you, “You’re a fucking shitty liar.” Once he confirmed everyone had left, he hauled you into one of the functioning sets, a dark wooden saloon. He locked the door behind you both and closed the blinds behind each window.

As he was walking towards you with eyes as dark as a demon, you questioned why you antagonized the hungry tiger in the first place. You walked backwards from him, stumbling over some chairs.

“This is a little uncalled for don’t ya think? I was just eating some candy…” You began to ration, the terror filling your tummy. Though you were scared you were also full to the brim with excitement, like a cat and mouse game. He stalked you to behind the bar, the area was littered with prop alcohol bottles and glasses. He backed you in front of the sink, his hands firm on your hips, “You know exactly what you were doing Intern.” He lowered just below your ear and lead your hand to his hard cock staining his jeans, “Is that what you wanted?”

“I-“ Immediately melting under his lips that met your neck and you decided to be honest, “Yeah – it’s exactly what I wanted.”

He pressed into you when you began palming him over his jeans, “I’m not even here 24 hours and you’re already asking for my cock? You must’ve really missed me.” Arrogance returning to his demeanor.

You weren’t really sure how to answer that question, it wasn’t so much that you missed him – you missed the buzz that laid claim to your entire body when he touched you.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” In one fail swoop he lifted you onto the sink, your body balanced on the divide of the cold metal basin. Just as quick, he had somehow managed to unzip and pull the pants right off your body. While he was trying to keep any composure, you could tell he was insatiable, his hands all over you, his lips all over your neck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I didn’t fucking miss you.” Attempting to speak over the heaving of your chest, “Feels a lot like you missed me though.”

“Why would I ignore such an annoying pest as you?” His words didn’t match his intensified actions. His hand trailed up your thighs, spreading your legs apart. A middle finger slowly and meticulously traced up your wet slit, “Now your cunt? That’s something I might’ve missed.” And easily slipped two fingers into your soaked core and his thumb following suit, landing on your pulsing clit.

After a sharp gasp you managed to rebuttal, “Good- glad we’re on the same page.”

“Good.” He groaned when your hand unzipped his dark jeans and wrapped your hand around his bare member still in his boxers.

“Fuck,” You breathed out and lulled your head back when his thumb circled your clit, “Fuck that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He lifted his assault on your neck for just a second, “Your hand feels so fucking good around me.”

“Fuck Austin,” You moaned but soon realized your misstep and you hoped he missed it but the curl of his lips on your neck proved otherwise.

“So you do know my name.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and fuck me?” The words shot out of your mouth out of sheer desperation and annoyance.

“Oh, nu uh darlin’, you think you’re gonna get away with what you did?” His hand slipped from you, causing a whine from the loss of pleasure.

He analyzed around the sink like he was searching for something then found exactly his target. He pulled down the retractable faucet head.

No- he wouldn’t, would he?

His hands pushed up your flowy long sleeve shirt to your waist to reduce the evidence then reached behind you to the faucet handle. In a flash the jet stream of first cold then slightly warm water hit your throbbing bundle. You immediately let out moan you didn’t intend to be as loud.

“What’s wrong baby? Is it a bit too strong?”

Baby

You were too focused on not climaxing so early to even process how much worse that nickname was than your own slip up. Even worse, the name only turned you on more. You helplessly nodded, completely void of words.

Your own descent didn’t halt your work on his throbbing cock, from the sticky precum seeping from his tip you could tell he was close too. Somewhere in your bliss filled brain, the game still waged on and you got an idea you needed to see through.

“Aw darlin’” He growled though you hear him struggling too, his cock twitching in your hand, “You gonna cum already?”

You contemplated denying it but your defenses were completely down full of need, “Yes- Please, please let me cum.”

“I don’t think so, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” Letting out small groans as your hand sped up on his girth. He retaliated by using his free hand to push the nozzle to the highest pressure.

A loud sob fell from your lips and every cell in your body screamed for release, your legs were trembling, your hand gripped on his forearm and your body vibrating from how viciously your orgasm threatened to take over. “Please sir, please let me cum, I need to cum please please.” You desperately begged.

He let out a deep grunt into your shoulder, “Fuck- good girl, cum for me.”

Full blinding euphoria washed over you, loud moans ripped from your throat unable to control the volume. It was clear he didn’t expect your reaction from the groans that filled your own ears. His teeth dug into the small of your neck and his free hand digging nto your thigh harshly when you felt his own orgasm covering your hand in thick ribbons of cum and coating the inside of his boxers. His hand never left the faucet head on you through his climax. Your orgasm continued to roll through you, the feeling of his cum on your hand only heightened your pleasure.

Once he started to come down you knew your plot to make him finish in his pants had consequences. He ripped your hand from his girth. “Look what you’ve done.” His tone so fucking angry.

“I’m-I’m sor-“ He brought your cum covered hand to your face, smeared it across your entire makeup covered face. His seed coated your cheeks, mouth and nose.

“That’s what teasing fucking whores get.” He taunted below your ear, “I’ll give you exactly what you wanted.” He returned the jet stream back onto your sensitive clit. You whined and tried to scoot away but his strong hand kept your hips in place, “You’re gonna take this like the little slut you are.”

The water was overriding every nerve ending the stimulation was almost painful. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t do this.” You wiggled beneath his hold. “It’s too much Austin, please.” Tears starting to well in your eyes.

“I know baby, I know.” He swirled the water around your sensitivity, “Just trust me, it’ll feel good. I promise.” He whispered and something about how his voice had softened made you believe him. It must’ve been quite obvious that you’d never been overstimulated like that before.

“Okay- Fuck.” You struggled beneath him, wondering when exactly it would start to feel good. Then suddenly breaking through the discomfort was a pleasure so strong, one you’d never felt before. This orgasm made the first one seem tame. Not a sound came from you as the ecstasy tore though you.

After it past the faucet was still on you but you were past any hope of another orgasm and it was even more painful than before. Your reflex pushed the steam from your center and back into the sink. Your heavy breathing in sync with each other, neither one daring to move or speak.

You expected him to warn you that you’d pay for making him finish in his pants, he just zipped back up. The air in the room had changed and was nothing like last time. He went to walk away from you but came back and pressed a finger into your sternum, his brows low and anger swirling in his face. “This isn’t fucking happening again. Got it?”

His words rang in your head the rest of the day. Every touch up after was silent, uncomfortable – so much so even Tom noticed the odd energy, making sure to move away from Austin whenever you had to work on him. He tried to ask you about it but you shut him down any inquiry.

Just before the sun fully disappeared behind mountains, flurries of snow began coating the set and everything in its wake. It fell and piled up in record speed.

The entire cast and crew were huddled into each trailer when a director came to the door with a sullen and irritated face. “They closed the roads.”

A roar of chatter filled the room with the realization that you all were stuck there. How nobody on crew thought to look at the fucking weather forecast you had no fucking clue.

“I know, I know.” He sighed, “Good news is the ski resort up the mountain agreed to take us, and we got a green light to pass if we leave now.”

Your coworkers began to filter out leaving you with the settling realization that your tiny beater Volkswagen wouldn’t make it up the mountain none the less in deep snow.

“Fuck.” You breathed out running after your director and grabbed his arm, “Can I carpool with you guys? My car’s not gonna make it up there.”

“I think my car’s already full but…” His eyes scanned across the emptying set, landing on an option. “Austin could probably take you.” He pointed at him only a couple feet away from you.

Of fucking course.

The displeasure clearly washed over his face from being elected for something he didn’t offer to do.

“Sure.” His tone poorly hidden behind a gripe. “C’mon we don’t have all day.”

The trek to his car was just as uncomfortable as you expected, you wanted to apologize for bothering him but he didn’t deserve it. Once in the car his demeanor was unnecessarily aggressive – his hands gripping the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, every action sharp. You would’ve thought you had done something horrendous to him. But all you did was exist.

“Well I-“ You began before he cut you off.

“I don’t want to fucking talk.” Halting any interaction.

“Fine.” You muttered, slumping down into the passenger seat trying to stay warm. His car was freezing, you had no idea how he wasn’t dying from the cold. He glanced over to you when your teeth started chattering and finally turned on the heat. When your chattering didn’t subside you felt his gaze land on you once more, yet you kept your eyes off him. Then out of the corner of your eye, you caught him ever so discreetly twist the knob for the seat heaters.

“Thank you.” You begrudgingly commented but he tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he navigated through the snow and into the resort parking lot. It felt like he hadn’t even parked before jumping out of the car and slamming the door.

The twist in your stomach from his actions feigned sadness, but you were just offended right?

You caught up to him just in time to hear the words that made Austin immediately even angrier than before.

“I’m sorry, but unfortunately it looks like we only have one room left.” The clerk said sounding intimidated by his expression.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath assessing your options. But the roads were blocked and there was nowhere else to go, you were stuck.

“Please tell me there’s at least two beds.” You sighed, terrified of the answer.

She gave a hesitant face, “I’m so sorry but it is not. It is one of our studio rooms.”

Great, so it was tiny too.

“Wonderful.” He snatched his room key and headed quickly to the elevator.

“Thank you.” You said apologetically and gently took your key, jogging to catch him.

The resort resembled a log cabin, red buffalo print accents everywhere, a stone fireplace, and moose heads mounted to the walls.

“Listen I’m not fucking happy about this either.” You state firmly, “But you don’t have to be a dickhead about it.”

He ignored you when he pressed the elevator button and continued the entire way up and even to your room door. He dropped his go bag on a leather ottoman, grabbing some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Probably to finally wash off the accident you caused earlier.

You dropped your own go bag on the bed and fell on it, absolutely exhausted and confused. What the fuck had your life become? Having quickie with an actor one set and now stuck in a room with him? An actor that hates you?

You must’ve fallen asleep because the bustle of Austin freshly showered and in dark slacks and a button down.

“Where are you going?” You asked rubbing the nap from your eye.

“Bar.” He replied plainly and left the room.

Fuck.

You weren’t just gonna sit there like a lame ass waiting for him to get back. Then you remembered your secret weapon – Landon.

After whatever the fuck Austin put you through, anything Landon did wouldn’t be as bad.

Once freshened up and wearing a convenient slinky dress you had snatched from your go bag, you found the resort bar and spotted your resident tormentor talking to some tiny blonde extra. The odd twist in your stomach from earlier returned but you played it off as disgust.

“A lemon drop martini please.” You ordered just beside Landon who looked much better outside of work. A maroon button-down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off his traditional style tattoos.

“Well, hello there,” He grinned, popping deep dimples into his cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

While the mission drove you to him, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could take your mind off of Austin.

“Well, I’m here.” You smiled up at him as you took a sip of your drink.

Soon it became evident that he was several drinks in, his words slurring, his imbalanced stance. It became incredibly obvious when his arm wrapped around your waist and landing on your hip. His unwarranted touch crept a alarming discomfort in your body, instantly tensing up under his hand.

Nervously giggling you slowly pulled from his grasp, “You’re so funny.”

His hold on you only constricted and his hand lowered to your ass.

“I would really appreciate it if you didn’t-“ Making another attempt at escaping.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” He mumbled into your ear, “I’ve heard the rumors about you.”

It was when his lips met your neck that the fear fully kicked in fueling your strength to yank from him, “Please don’t fucking touch me.”

All eyes in the bar were on you two, including the asshole that was the cause of whatever rumors Landon mentioned. The darkhaired drunk was clearly pissed at your reaction and stole you back into his abrasive hands.

“Don’t act all innocent now, I know how big of a slut you are.” He muttered but stumbled back when a massive hand landed on his chest.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” A familiar voice warned. Your eyes trailed up his stern arm and up to his twisted face, vicious eyes burning into Landon.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Don’t like to share your whore?” The stagehand retorted.

Austin’s fist twisted into Landon’s shirt shoving him back, “Don’t fucking say shit like that.” He growled through clenched teeth. The sight of his protectiveness sent butterflies down to your stomach.

“C’mon man, you know she’s nobody, she’s just a fucking intern, she’s nothing.”

In a flash before you could even process, a heavy fist landed into his drunken smirk.

Landon’s hand instantly covered his now bleeding nose, “Dude what the fuck!”

“Don’t fucking do that again.” He snarled, “And don’t fucking call her that.” Pushing him back before storming away. Something about him defending you only swirled warmth in your hips. He just punched someone for you.

“Fuck you.” You spat, taking the rest of his beer along with your drink and poured them all over him.

And again, you were chasing after a fuming Austin. “Hey!” You called after him grasping his forearm. “What the fuck was that about? Why would you do that?”

“Oh I don’t fucking know, (Y/N) maybe because he was assaulting you?” Slapping your arm off him then continuing his pursuit back up your room.

“Right, but you fucking hate me.” You stated the obvious as he walked away from you again and into the elevator. “Can you fucking stop being a child and talk to me?” You pressed once the elevator doors closed behind you.

“I save you and you call me a child?” He scoffed, “You should be thanking me.”

The moment those lift doors opened his stomps quickly crossed down the long wooden hallway.

“I mean- yeah but like…” Your chest heavy from all the fast walking. Slipping through the crack of the door before he could lock you out.

“I am grateful for what you did-“ You attempted to mask your heavy breathing, “I’m just confused about why you did it.”

He didn’t need to turn around for you to know he was rolling his eyes. “I’m not fucking heartless Int- y/n.” He skirted around ‘intern’ completely hypocritical to how he normally addresses you.

“You know my name.” Stepping towards him and pointing out the elephant in the room.

He took a deep sigh, “Yes I know your name. I also know you’re not an ‘Intern’ anymore.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re still an intern to me.”

“So, you can call me that but Landon can’t? What the fuck is that about?”

He groaned exasperated, running a hand through his thick golden hair, “I don’t fucking know (y/n), okay? That’s my nickname for you, I started it.”

“So you’re the only one allowed to call me that?” Scoffing at his words.

His expression intensified on you, taking a step forward, “I don’t fucking like you Intern.” Pressing an index into your sternum, “I am so fucking sick of your bullshit.”

“Bullshit? What bullshit? Just me existing? And doing my job?” You snapped back, halting slightly when the wall behind you met your backside. Furious hot blood ran through your veins but also down into your core and between your legs. Just the sight of him enraged turned you on, especially when he had taken it out on someone for you – especially when you were the cause of it.

“You know what you do and i’m sick of it. I told you last time to cut that shit out.” His cobalt eyes boring into your own.

In a strong tide of brat ebbed into you, “Or what? Whatcha gonna do about it huh?”

The swirling conflict in his face revealed his own restraint from you, you were driving him mad too. He huffed and pushed himself off the wall, bringing a hand to his forehead, “You’re fucking impossible.” Circling back to you, “Has anyone ever fucking told you that you’re insufferable?”

His words only igniting the steam seeping from your ears. Insufferable? Who fucking calls someone insufferable?

Your fingers curled into tight fists and eyebrows scrunched, “Me? Me insufferable?” Pushing yourself off the wall, pointing your index at him, “Have you fucking met yourself? If either of us are insufferable, its fucking you,” Jabbing into his chest, keeping eyes locked on his, “You’re so fucking unbearable. You make my job fucking miserable and I fucking hate you.” The words poured out of you through vicious emotion.

There was a shift in Austin’s face, you couldn’t tell if it was more anger or something else entirely. “Yeah, well if I’m so fucking intolerable, I’ll find somewhere else to fucking sleep.” Austin made a sharp turn towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going to sleep? There’s no rooms left.” You called from the other side of the hotelroom.

Austin halted and you thought he’d made a connection at the obvious, that there was nowhere else to sleep but his hand stilled on the doorhandle. He just barely turned his face to the side speaking over his shoulder, “I’d rather sleep on a bench or in my fucking car before I ever share a bed with you.” Slamming the heavy door behind him.

His words stung the same way the ones on set did – ‘this isn’t fucking happening again’ – it was kinda the same sentiment, wasn’t it? He didn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe you were the pest after all.

The somber energy was quickly replaced with molten hot lava still steaming through your veins. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding and rested against the wall. Suddenly the memory of him pressing you against the wall in fury just minutes ago, which then led to reminiscing over that day in the trailer… him chaining you to the door. Overwhelming anger and testosterone lingered in the air and it sent butterflies swarming in your core. As much as you knew you should be pissed about how he just acted it didn’t stop the pooling between your legs.

You took in the situation, you were alone. Austin left and you now had a room all to yourself. Your eyes landed on the small bed, your steps toward it like tiptoeing in a house at night, like you were trying to hide from yourself. The internalized shame only fueled the rampant thumping in your pussy, your fingers hooked into the band of your panties and pulled them down before crawling on the pre-made bed. Timid fingers slithered down your torso towards your open legs, you couldn’t believe you were doing this. Your chest was rising and falling, and a concrete pit fell to your tummy. When your middle and ring finger landed where the pulsing demanded attention you couldn’t help a tiny moan out.

Circles swirled on your swollen clit, “Fuck.” You breathed out lulling your head back and closed your eyes. The gentle rotation sent shock waves through your body and urged it to speed up, but you wanted this to last. You wanted to savor it.

Your digits were good, but Austin’s were better and the thought of him was definitely not helping your slow-and-steady goal. The glaring sound of your heart racing filled your ears, and the pleasure caused your entire body to respond, your back arching in time with your fingers. Without any restraint, “Fuck Austin.” You moaned.

“Ahem.” A much too familiar voice shocked you from your trance, eyes shooting wide open, and legs tightly clamped around your hand.

A bright rouge emerged on your embarrassed cheeks, “What the fuck are you doing here, I thought you left!”

“I left my bag, but I don’t think that’s the important question right now.” He stated casually but you observed how his eyes trailed down your body.

“Can you just please get the fuck out?” Fluster clear in your tone, tilting your body from him.

“Hm,” He ignored the question then his eyes finally landing on your flushed face, “Is this because of me?”

“W-What?” Caught off guard but hastily shook your head, “Just get the fuck out please.”

“No, No answer the question.” He stepped next to the bed, hips level with your rested head.

“I um-“ You raked through possible excuses, “No, of course not.”

“Hm,” He hummed again, a gently touch starting to draw up your leg, “So you weren’t thinking about that faucet on your cunt?” His wandering hand stopped at your hip.

“Nope,” You replied confidently, attempting to tame your body’s natural response to his touch.

An index traced up your bent leg, “Is it because of me?” He repeated.

“Is what because of you?”

Effortlessly, he pried your legs apart, “That. Are you touching yourself because of me?” Before you could even answer his knuckle slid down your inner thigh, his digits landing on your own. “If I caused it, I should fix it.” He gently pressed on your fingers signaling to let him take over. “Just like…” His free hand drawing yours to the bulge in his pants. “You caused this. So you’re gonna fix it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice to pull him out of his pants and start stroking his veiny length that your hand could barely fit around. He immediately snatched your wrist, “Not like that. Your mouth.”

You hesitantly looked up at him, he was so big there was no way you’d be able to take him. Though, when his fingers started moving you knew you didn’t want to stop. With a slight readjustment, you softly twirled your tongue around his head, triggering a deep rumble from his chest. “Yeah, just like that.” His free hand found your hair and tangled his fingers into it, curling at the roots with a tug.

You used your closest hand to wrap around the rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth beginning to pump at the base while you gained a rhythm bobbing your head on his shaft. The way his body responded to you – his cock twitching on your tongue, deep guttural groans and his hips shoving himself further down your throat – sent flurries of buzzing pleasure to your swelling bud. He was responding like that because of you, you made him unravel. The reminder of his status rang in your head – you had the oh so sought-after Oscar-winning actor balls deep in your throat. It was quite an ego boost. You kept your gaze on him, watching his face contort with pleasure. His hand slid down the side of your face when he looked down at you, his palm finding your cheek. “You look so fucking pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Pretty

What a soft name to use in such a sexual act. If it was one thing you knew about ‘Austin Butler’ was that he was anything but soft.

You hummed around him, your lips bet the edge of your fist with every repetition. His cock thickened and swole to be a rock-hard throbbing mess, with the taste of his pre-cum you sensed he was close. Pulling off with a pop, you looked up with big puppy-dog eyes, “Wanna cum on my face?”

He shook his head, “No darlin I’m just gettin’ started.” The hand was once in your hair, now ran up your side trailing goosebumps behind. “Hold steady will ya?” You had no idea what that meant especially when he escaped from your grasp. He swiftly dropped his jeans, stepping out of them then climbed onto the bed, anchoring a knee at each side of your head. He tapped his wet cock on your lips, “Open up.”

Your eyes widened but obliged, opening up for him and taking him even deeper than before down your throat. He leaned froward at an angle starting to thrust into your mouth, gaining a deep grunt from him. While he kept fucking your mouth, a hand trailed down your abdomen ending at your thighs and promptly spread them. Your pussy was practically vibrating at the realization of what he was doing, bending down fully and flattening his tongue against your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny squeak.

Immediately your hips rolled up against his tongue desperate for more. His tongue felt so fucking good, sending scorching shivers across your skin. The pleasure began to compound into your clit and the knot in your tummy told you that you wouldn’t last as long either. You let out a groan around his girth as the tingling in your center grew and you knew you had to do something in order to not fold so quickly.

Using all your strength and taking advantage of his lowered guard, you practically threw you both into a roll, landing you on top. He took no time in adjusting to the new position, in fact the twitching of his cock in your mouth told you it only turned him on more. The change of events gave you a new sense of confidence, slowly pulling off his length, keeping your tongue on him til you came off with a pop. He responded with a vibrating moan on your pussy, eating you more voraciously. You rutted your hips on his face, his hands caressed up your thighs and molded to your hips carefully. But you wanted more, so you gently guided up his hands guiding up your torso to your breasts. His hands instantly began massaging your mounds and playing with your nipples over your dress. “Fuck.” You breathed out, taking in the little bit of control you’d gained.

Without warning, from one particularly delicious round of his tongue on your clit, your orgasm washed over you almost violently. You should’ve been embarrassed at how loud you were being, seeing as your room was next to the others but in that moment you couldn’t care. How could you when your mind was blinking flashes of white as your orgasm ripped through you.

You needed him and you needed him now. In a feral jolt you attempted to get off his face, the sensation getting too much. He instantly gripped your hips, digging his nails into them holding them in place just above his lips. “Remember what I told you earlier, it’ll feel good. I promise.” His voice so rich and dripping in dark desire. Then he did something you didn’t expect, he blew a stream of air directly on your throbbing nub, sending chills and goose bumps to erupt across your skin. You were so sensitive that just the blow of air sent you into another frenzied orgasm. Your juices were dripping down your thighs and onto him and you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him.

Mid-orgasm you somehow managed to rip from his grip, flip over and slide yourself on his still erect member. The sudden contact gained you a loud groan and his long digits back curled around your hips, a feeling you were beginning to crave. He looked at you with dark navy eyes full of utter loathing, the look alone was driving you crazy. How could someone looking at you with such hate turn you on so much?

Your eyes rolled back once the head of his cock was planted in the deepest part of your core and you began to roll your hips keeping him in place. Your own hatred for him fueled your actions, faster, harder, angrier. Now that you had a full view of him, every single little off-hand comment or insult pushed you to ruin him.

His hands drew up your waist, then your chest, seemingly taking in every inch of you, then grasped you by your midsection pulling you down to face him. A split second passed as he studied your face, then most unexpectedly, using his hands to pull you into a kiss. It was a jarring shock at first, especially since you were mentally preparing his demise just seconds ago, but you easily melted into it. His tongue slid across your bottom lip begging for entrance and you obliged.

The tip of his tongue hesitantly met yours before dancing against it ravenously. From what little you knew about this man, you at least knew that hesitation was not in his arsenal of abilities. Out of everything, why the fuck would he hesitate over a measly kiss?

He trailed down your body, again giving each part of you attention before landing on your hips once more. This time his grip was tight than ever, and it was clear as to why when he kept you in place when he started to thrust into you from below. The position allowed his dick to reach greater depths within you. In one sharp ram into your core, you both let out moans into each other’s mouths. Your fingers found his hair and intertwined in it, his pumps and your tongues at work never halting.

The sound of your bodies colliding against each other filled the room and his pumps became quick and erratic. You could tell he was close, so you decided to help him a little extra by clenching your walls around him each time his cock filled you fully. Shortly after your extra aid he spilled a thick river of cum deep inside you, his entire body tensing beneath you. Since his movements halted from his orgasm you took over, bouncing on his member to ride out his high.

You finally pulled from his plump lips and he let out a tiny whine as if he didn’t want to let you go. Once you felt him begin to soften inside you, you pulled off and fell next to him. Your chests rose and fell in time with each other, equally coated in sweat. A silence fell over the room as the realization of the event started to settle in, suddenly the giant elephant entered the room again. Your eyes locked onto the dark wooden ceiling, words couldn’t seem to form in your fucked-out mind.

Out of your peripheral you caught him close his eyes and take a deep breath. He spoke nothing and peeled himself from the plush duvet, taking a moment to sit on the edge in thought then crossing the room, disappearing into the bathroom then reappearing with a towel.

“Here.” He said simply offering the white cloth, even the tiny peace offering held distain.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, snatching the towel and started to clean yourself up. “So um are you-“ He stopped you before you began.

“I’m staying.” He never even so much as looked at you and just went through his leather go-bag, pulling out what looked like pajama pants.

“But why you said-“ You began to protest but was once again cut off.

“I didn’t find another place to sleep.” His voice so emotionless and deadpan. “So, I’m stuck here with you.”

You scoffed, “Because that would be so fucking bad?” Pulling yourself up on your elbows to look over at him.

His turned and eyes locked onto you like a target, eyes void of any feeling that wasn’t abhorrence. “Yes. It is. Because I’ve truly never met somebody that I hate more than you. Being trapped in the pits of hell sounds more pleasant than spending the night here with you. So, just stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine.”

A burning flared across your body in anger and roaring even fiercer in your chest with a feeling you couldn’t place. How could someone be so fucking vile over someone they barely knew. “Fine.” Your tone matched his with equal aggression. “Fucking sounds good to me.”

-> Part 3 up now 💓

taglist: @lindszeppelin @steph-speaks @sagesolsticewrites @presleysdarling @purejasmine @slowsweetlove @powerofelvis @pennyroyalcreep @navsblog @eliseinmemphis @cryingabtab @ab4eva @infatuatedharleys @samfangirls @julie181 @ccab @denised916 @katelswan @amaliking @michellelv @butlersluvbot @coloradohighs @rairaielv @centaine @babyminghao @saesire @h3ll0k1tt9 @tchalametishot @austinbutlerinleather

If you'd like to be tagged in a potential Part 3 please comment 💗

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fic, Forever Winter, a read - if you like angsty sad smutty you’ll probably like it lol

also pls consider giving this a like, comment or reblog ♡

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merakiui · 11 months

Note

EVERYONE LOOKS SO GORGEOUS THIS EVEN AND FREE JADE?!

I love it so much!! But like look at my boy! Kalim looks so pretty! Meta I'm gonna explode!

Kalim with no light and much vacancy in his eyes is such a haunting thing to see... but it's actually quite refreshing!!! Someone on twt really said they hope this event messes him up. T_T but,,,, truthfully, it would be an interesting change of pace to see the normally sunny, always cheerful Kalim not smiling for once. :o

#twisted chit chat #kalim i'll protect you #us cinnamon rolls have to stay together and weather the horrors <3 i will keep you safe my bestie :D

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Imagine someone kidnapping you for leverage.

You left to stay with your friend in a town a few miles away - just old schoolmates getting back together. Nothing out of the ordinary but the house... it feels strange. Jax seems to be unable to sit in one place, a feeling of something missing gnawing at the back of his head. You were always there. Quiet, most of the time, hardly noticeable but your presence seemed to fill the emptiness between the walls. How strange it is for him to not have you around.

Just when boredom is about to make him reach for a thick book you had left on the coffee table, the phone rings. Jax reaches for it without much thought, half expecting you to be on the other side. He is, however, sorely mistaken:

"I have a business offer for you."

Confused and surprised, he looks at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's nearing midnight.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"All in due time," the stranger answers. A hint of amusement hides in his voice. "For now, I'd like to talk about the goods."

"I never said I'd do business with you, man."

"Oh but we both know you will, Jackson Teller. Like I said, all in due time. Now, let's consider the benefits of this relationship."

Jax sighs. He's too smart to just hang up. "Alright, what do you want?"

"Nothing too big, just a few RPGs, M9s and M32-Hammers. Abo-"

"Are you serious?" Jax cuts him off. He lets out a dry chuckle of disbelief. "This is serious shit. Big guns. I don't deal that."

"I'll pretend I haven't heard that," the man's voice is suddenly low and stern, "and I'll kindly let you make a decision after you hear what you get in return."

He's even less interested in the exchange than he was before. It sounds like he might receive something big but big things, aside from being great advantages, are rather hard to remain inconspicuous. "What is it?"

"A true jackpot!" The stranger laughs in a raspy voice. His excellent mood is back. "To let your appetite grow, I'll give you a taste of the prize."

A static shuffling resounds on the other side of the call. The sound is loud enough to make Jax pull the phone away in a flinch.

Then silence.

"Jax?"

His heart stops for a moment hearing your voice - it's small, frightened. Jax can tell you're holding yourself together with all the strength you have but it's not going to last forever.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?"

"I thinks so..." you answer unsure. It's hard to be 'alright' when one is held hostage. "I'll be fine. Just do what he asks. Please, baby, just get me home."

Before he can reassure you that he will, in fact, bring you back safe and sound, the static shuffling resounds again.

"So, Jackson, what do you think about our little deal, huh?"

"I will fucking kill you."

The stranger clears his throat. "My messenger will give you details in the morning. If as much as a hair falls off his head, the deal is off and so is the girl's head. You know what to do, Jackson. Goodbye."

Jax throws the phone across the room. It sounds like it fell apart but he's far from caring about that.

The house feels strange. Its emptiness is imposing, deafening. The ghost of you fills the vacancy once again but this time it's haunting.

#jax teller fanfic #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa imagine #soa fanfic #soa fanfiction

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ryaiga · 1 year

Text

The One God Forbade

Chapter 1

Pairing - Captain Price X GN!Reader X Lieutenant Riley

MDNI 18+ PLEASE.

WORD COUNT: 6.3K

Summary: You survived an interrogation but don't remember anything except the pain you endured and Captain Price saving you. Once you recovered, you were left with more questions with seemingly no answer.

AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END!

WARNINGS/CWS/TWS: GRAPHIC SCENES(DETAILED GORE, there will be a warning and a spacer just for it so you can skip), Military terms that might be wrong, Drinking, Childhood trauma, mention of abuse, death and mentions of death, talks of scars, implied rape.

Spacers/Headers by: @mmadeinheavenn , @imlevis , @animatedglittergraphics-n-more , @wanwanparty

{(N/n) = nickname}

It was a surprise Kortac didn't sign you from the get go. You knew of a couple of their members, König and Horangi specifically, only by mere whispers. You were the new recruit on base. Anyone and everyone would kill to have your spot, a vacancy was opened and granted to you to join Task force 141. Nobody saw it coming, you'd always thought it was the best soldier from your squad who'd be nominated, but everyone including you was blindsided by the choice.

You were home, on leave for only a week after a grueling mission your platoon had to complete and after recovery. Intel was needed and special ops teams Alpha, Delta and ,your squad, Echo were tasked to gather it, eliminate all threats if faced and by any means get said intel. Other squads joked (some meant what they said) that you didn't belong in the army, but rather a mercenary group like Kortac. The lengths you'd take to accomplish a mission gave you that title. It was a switch, something even you can't control. What lays in your wake is the multiple sights of mangled and bloodied corpses, those whose faces were intact belonged to people you have never come across once in your life.

That mission made your attempts to sleep futile, it haunts you every night when you rest your head. You were separated from your team, trying to exfil but ended up amidst an ambush. Everyone knew how skilled a soldier you were, but never had taken you for the type to sacrifice yourself for the means of your fellow squadmates' safety. You'd make headway to a couple of your injured comrades, shooting at enemies who’d even think of taking a step forward. Dragging them back to the safety of the group, you’d left them to get first aid, hell you even threw your back up kit on top of one of the injured before running to the last man. The few before him received shots to their limbs, nothing that would render them dead, but the last man had more than just a shot.

Rodney was Echo team’s Field Team Leader(FTL) and had been by your side pulling the injured and returning fire on the enemies. That was when a stray IED happened to go off, you swore that a pebble triggered it but you didn't have the time to think about it. Luckily for the both of you, it wasn’t close to do deadly damage but it was enough for the building in front of you to shake and a piece of rubble had fallen onto Rodney’s leg as he was trying to get up after the explosion. You had been scraped by flyaway shrapnels but one happened to embed itself into your thigh, right above your knee. Seeing that he had it worse, you made it a priority to get that injured comrade out of the way first so you can focus on Rodney after. You’d almost — or hell quite literally — thrown the man to safety and dashed for Rodney, using the momentum, you attempted to kick the rubble off and thankfully it did. Placing a tourniquet on Rodney’s leg so he didn't bleed out.

You'd only manage to drag him halfway to the group, before a crazed hostile came charging at you with a knife. Stupid as it was to bring a knife to a gunfight in a literal sense, you reached for your pistol and raised it to shoot the hostile, hearing a click instead of a shot going off. An empty mag, you chuckled. Shouting for Rodney to crawl the rest of the way and yell for someone, you holstered the pistol to exchange for your trusty karambit. You've been in hand to hand combat for training but for some reason this was different. You found yourself on the ground quicker than ever, despite being top in your batch.

The man stood over you with a sinister look, with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “Another American added to my collection, I won’t kill you so soon. Not yet at least, we still need to know how you found this place. And dear little soldier, oh how much fun I’ll have torturing you and keeping you barely breathing.” He proceeded to plunge the knife into your side, somehow missing everything vital but you convinced yourself that it would be blood loss that kills you at this point. You’d rather die quiet than betray the military. Blacking out due to the shock, the last thing you heard Rodney yelling for the rest to fire at the man and not just stand there with their dicks in their hands. At last it was too late, the team had to exfil but not without calling it in and letting the team who was aiding us with the mission about the situation at hand. A rescue mission for a fellow soldier.

Neither you nor your team knew that the intel was for Task Force 141’s next deployment, you were the bait Laswell had deployed. It was to ensure that the ring leader didn’t take the situation seriously, a random military team out on patrol happened to stumble upon a measly little operational base they had out in the sandy town, a perfect bait. Bringing back the intel to the team at base, Laswell gave Price the details of your rescue, unbeknownst to you of course.

TORTURE SCENE AHEAD, AVOID IF YOU AREN’T COMFORTABLE WITH SUCH

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You woke up to the sharp and pulsating pain in your side, vision blurred and arms shackled to a metal table, you remembered what happened. You braced yourself for the worse, nothing like good old torture. The next 8 hours felt like hell, from waterboarding, branding you with a metal rod that was heated to the point of it glowing bright orange, to nails being pulled starting from your toes then to your hands, you endured every second of torture being thrown at you. Sure it was horrible, but you kept your mouth shut by any means possible. Every time a nail was pulled ever so agonizingly slowly, you bit your lips to the point that blood dripped down your chin and that the pain was now numbed, you no longer felt it. You closed your eyes, counting every second.

1, 2, 3, 4- “How did you find this compound?” 9, 10. 30600. 1, 2, 3- “I know you can hear me!” 7, 8, 9, 10. 30610- Another slow pull of a nail, this time it was your right pinky toe, no nails on the right foot 8 hours, 35 minutes, 20 seconds into being kidnapped. Yeah they took a whole 5 minutes to torture your pinky toe for information.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5- the door to the room opens again, a different man enters. This time with a trolley with surgical tools. You could see a scalpel, clamps, retractors, suction, staples and energy systems, you could tell this man enjoys the torment he inflicts. With the orchestra of surgical tools laid out in front of him, he was the conductor who was gonna lead your screams into a melodious conforment of the perfect harmony, a symphony to his ears. 45950.

1, 2, 3, 4, you felt him cut open the top of your hand, using the clamps on the nerves and playing with them, all without anesthetics, you growled as your face contorted to the pain. Cauterizing the incision, “You know, I had enough sessions like this, I could get a medical license just from how talented and skill I am with my tools.” Deranged as he sounds, you kept counting. 50400. It is now 50401. You had enough when you felt him grab your belt buckle. That’s where it happened. You blacked out. The last that you remembered.

Back at base, Laswell called for the last mission briefing after Price gathered the boys and informed them of what was going on. After which Price and the few members of Task force 141 geared up. He led them onto the helo and they flew out to the sandy plains you were left at. 3 hours after the incident was called in.

Laswell had informed him of the prestigious yet silent soldier that was being considered for his team. He’d lost a recruit in an earlier deployment, one he took to heart. Like many from the past, another scar added, that lay permanent by his chest and the haunting that left him shaking and restless at night, another one failed by his very leadership. Making even the unshakeable captain wake in cold sweats and trembling and to his vices in the attempts to be grounded to earth once more. So to hear that he was getting a new member that was as or more skilled than the one before, meant that the military was willing to sacrifice yet another valuable asset if it meant that his team was complete from every angle. A well trained sniper, hardy in hand to hand, a versatile team player yet nothing more than your skills were known. Similar to his lieutenant, you were an enigma. Not even a drop of ink was placed about your past and how you came about the military. Your file had a picture, a battle hardened soldier who completed every mission with ease and precision of high caliber, but no other name besides (N/N). You hadn’t been rewarded with a callsign, no one knew enough about you to even give a title to your talents, unlike Soap or Ghost. Price read up on your previous missions, but to his disappointment (or amazement), every debrief on the details stated that no one saw how you executed. It was always done and over with by the time the rest came to you, and it happens within mere seconds. A regal display of crimson red, a mural of your skill assets that leaves even your FTLs in fear of ever being your enemy. However, No one was ready for what was to come. For you’d gain a title like no other, a prestige as high as the greatest artist known to man, the difference being that it came not from art. But from your ungodly fits to kill and survive, a display left out to strike fear in any person who wronged you.

Price and his team sat in the helo, adrenaline slowly creeping along their nerves as they awaited for the pilot's call to jump. “Hope we get there in time, wouldn't be good if we found ‘em KIA. Laswell seemed rather fond of the enigma.” Ghost briefly spoke, an utter breath that Price barely caught. Nodding in response, Price wanted to see what you were. How you handled the predicament you were in, knowing full well if it was one of his men, that they wouldn’t even think of breaking. Could he blame you? Not even your platoon had knowledge that you were against a group of skilled mercenaries guising as cartels selling American weapons on middle eastern soil. He’d seen what they’ve done to the soldiers before you, they never made it home and if they did, it was a closed casket ceremony.

Needless to say you were in desperate need of saving if you even want to think of coming out alive. Ghost reminds the rest that they aren’t to hope too highly of your chances, another tag and body bag might be amongst them on their return. A slim chance that you’d even be crawling out that hellscape. It was a bad omen that Price hated, he didn’t like the thought of a rescue being a failed attempt before it even began. Before he could even try to save the person. The helo landed miles away from the building, too many for the team’s liking. It meant time was wasted traversing the dunes, and time was not on their side.

They managed to reach the building on the 14th hour, Gaz situated at a high vantage point and taking out any guard that would alert the others and prevent the team’s entry while Price and the other two got closer. Price split the teams, Gaz with him and Soap with Ghost. Ghost and Soap would make the initial breach, having that Soap was their demolitions expert. Gaz made his way to the other side of the building with Price to flank and surprise any enemies with the possible off chance of stumbling into you during the sweep. Over the comms, he gave the signal. A blast shook the building, he’d hear a handful of footsteps rush towards the other two, giving it a second before kicking the shitty metal door open. Entering the 4 story building, they cleared the first floor with ease before coming across a walkie talkie on one of the now dead tangos. “Goddamn it! Kill whoever that was, we need to handle-” the person on the other end was cut off and without a second for Price to ponder what the situation was, more enemies came barrelling down the steps, managing to count 6 as they entered a room for cover before a gunfight ensued. Soap deployed a 9 banger - a flashbang that would go off 9 times back to back - a headbanger experience for the poor dead men walking. Using that as a distraction Gaz took out 3 enemies before Ghost and Price eliminated the remaining few.

Ghost and Soap rushed to the second floor while he and Gaz went to the third. ‘Faster’ echoed in the back of Price’s mind. The team only managed to clear 3 rooms when a gut wrenching cry and a shot going off not long after was heard. It came from the fourth floor, He waited for the two below them and got into formation. Leading his men into the unknown, they hurried up the flight of stairs. Looking down the dimly lit and putrid corridor stood 4 rooms, only one of which was closed, something wet leaked from its crack but the lighting made it hard to distinguish what it was. After clearing other rooms of hostiles, Price had Gaz stand guard by the stairs, Soap covering his and Ghost’s six. His clothed hand slowly reached the grimy steel knob, twisting and pushing it open to find that it was locked from the inside. You had to be there, surely. He tapped Soap and motioned for him to breach with a thermite. Bracing for the explosion, the thermite goes off rattling who stood by the door no doubt, using the initial explosion as a distraction, Price enters.

He’d heard of soldiers crawling away from death’s grip, but nothing he’d seen or heard would have prepared him for what he had just walked into. Before Ghost could turn to clear and call out on the comms, Price stopped him and the other two from entering. A war torn soldier wasn’t an unusual sight but the horrors he’d just laid his desensitized eyes on was enough to remind him of what he once feared back when he was a young recruit in the SAS. A trolley with surgical tools and a lone pistol stood at arms reach of a small figure wearing a familiar uniform, hands busy with what he could only assume was the soldier’s face, chains jingling as they continued with what they were doing all whilst embracing the sun’s warm grace. That wasn’t what shook him, a metal table typically used to interrogate people stood to the right of the room. The chains that held you down were broken, the spot where the chains were welded to the center of the table had an upwards dent - you ripped the chains off the table with sheer force.

A man in surgical garments sprawled on the table, innards now turned out for all to see. A spectacle made out of human intestine, organs pinned outside the man’s body by multiple scalpels that went through the metal and blood viciously splattered around his corpse. Price wished he could say that was it but the gruesome art went beyond just insides turned out. The man’s entire nervous system was intricately laid out around his organs, decorating the entire table in a mix of thin blue threads barely visible amongst the puddle of red. The nerves still connected together in a web, not severed in any section, the extreme precision to carry such a brutal butchering left Price speechless. The scene was as if it paid homage to the Blair Witch Project, or worse a page from a sacrificial ritual. Price could only hope that the man was dead when all of this was carried out.

Another, laid on the floor not too far between the man on the table and inches away from the door. A pistol in his mouth, brain matter laid out on the ground, his face frozen with a plea for mercy. That was what he was standing in, and what had seeped out the door crack. Yet another lay in front the soldier Price was facing, neck snapped and his dead body laid to rest sitting up right by the wall in front of the aforementioned soldier, a metal rod shoved into his mouth and the sharp end had protruded out his torso. Price took another step forward before he heard a whimper to the left most corner of the room, their target - the head honcho of the operation - sat bare and huddled. His clothes on the ground at arms reach yet the man was too afraid to take a step forward. As though he would meet the same fate as his men if he took even a breath of air.

“(N/n)? It’s Captain Price, Laswell sent Task Force 141 to rescue you.” Price spoke softly, not wanting to surprise you, unsure of the current mental state you were in. Especially after what was laid around you and the torture you went through. “Are you injured?-” You didn’t answer, instead opting to slowly turn. Price made the right call, the state you were in was dire. “Ghost, call for exfil ASAP, (N/n) is alive but in serious condition.” Price called out to his right hand man with urgency and a slight tremble in his voice.

Your eyes. He’d thought that when he first met Ghost, that his eyes were the epitome of cold and soulless. But somehow yours went beyond that, for a lack of better words. A frigid cold looms behind those dull and matte black pupils, reminding of the cold he once faced during a deployment in Russia during a winter’s snow storm, striking his very core cold. Bangs sticking to your bloodied face by sweat and grime from the hours of torture you endured. A chunk of your skin hanged off your face, a knife cut and what looks like one of the man’s attempts to rip the skin out and off your face. It started right above your eyebrow traveling down to your lips. He was hopeful that it was repairable, it wasn’t a wide injury, barely missing your eyes and narrows down where it ended in the middle of your upper lip, still connecting at both ends to your face by what looked like a thin fishing line. You were stitching your skin back to your face. Your hand had a butchered attempt to stitch a wound close with one hand, nail beds down to your knuckles had trails of dried up blood. Uniform stained a dark red, mixture of your injured comrades blood from the fight and yours, the side of your torso had a big patch of blood. Sleeves rolled up, bright red burn marks running down your entire forearm, the man before you had branded you with the very metal rod that was now embedded in him. On your other arm were 12 lines stitched into your skin, 8 weren’t freshly stitched in, leaving Price confused and curious as to what it was.

END OF TORTURE SCENE

Price could see the soldier mouthing something softly. His ears strained to hear the soft word, or numbers when he realizes that you were counting out by tens and adding to a bigger number before repeating. The hours you were torture. He slowly approaches you, calling out to you. It took a solid minute for you to realize what was going on. Signs of a soul return to your eyes, glossing over as soon as you hear your name. Arms slowly raised to surrender and it starts to tremble when before they were as still as though belonging to the world’s best brain surgeon. Tears drip down your cheeks, face still emotionless. You were dazed. The sound of the chopper’s propeller came to earshot, fresh sunshine scalding your back through the glassless window.

Gaz calls out to Price, “They’re here! Let’s go!” Price immediately takes off his shemagh and drapes it over your head, covering your face before standing to your left. He gave you a shot of morphine he had on hand to help with the pain. Grabbing your left arm, wrapping it over his shoulders, bending both of you and carried you bridal style as you were in no condition to walk - your toenails gone from the torture and the piece of shrapnel still in your thigh, he could only imagine the pain you were going through. He carried you out the room, ordering his team to escort the two of you to the safety of the chopper. Before he could descend the stairs, you spoke softly. “My karambit. Find it, I can’t lose it. I won’t leave without it.” The team shoots Price a confused look before turning to each other. “What are you waiting for? You heard the soldier. Quickly find it.” Price commands, he feels your breath starting to get labored, he hurries the guys and tells Gaz to follow him out.

The medics on board administered emergency first aid, shooting you with a dose of adrenaline to make sure you stay awake during the flight. They had laid you down on a stretcher. Not long after you, Price and Gaz enter the chopper, Ghost and Soap follow suit with your karambit in hand. Soap walks to your side, kneeling before he places your Karambit safely onto your chest and grabs your left hand to be placed on top of the knife. “Rest easy now (N/n), you and your karambit are safe.” Soap shot you a comforting smile as he spoke with a tone to reassure you.

Beeping. You hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping to the same rhythm as your heartbeat, however it was muffled. Eyes fluttering open, squinting due the harsh and glaring light that was directly over you. Consciousness returns to your still body. A body that didn’t feel like yours, sore all over and strapped down to the bed, limiting your movement. Your vision blurred, you attempted to analyze the room. Aside from the continuous beeping of the heart monitor, the fluorescent lights that had basically served as a flashbang buzzed like white noise. Reminding you of the time when you were living in that shitty college dormitory, but there wasn’t that stale air that was permeated by the pungent scent of body odor from athletes who freely roamed the halls. Instead, it was the smell of disinfectant that was greatly welcomed. The A/C hummed quietly, you soon realized it was a hospital or medical bay that you were in.

Something was off. How did you get from that dry and sweltering room that was stained with the smell of mold and bodily fluids to this clean environment. You scrapped at your foggy memory, who came? Was it the military who came to your rescue or did the fuckers who tortured you, who sold you off as a token and bargaining chip to a client? Panic creeps up your leg, feeling it coursing through your veins. You quietly looked for a way to get out of your restraints, not wanting anyone to hear you scheming away.

Your eyes spotted a paperclip that was left right on top of your cover, probably dropped from a clipboard. You started to shimmy under the tiny metal paperclip, it inches to your reach and soon you popped it into your mouth to bend it in a way that allowed you to lockpick the 4 locks that held your restraints against the bed. You hurried, taking off the restraints that were on your hands and started to work on your foot.

You only managed to free one foot when you heard someone walk into the section of the medical bay that housed you. Your heart starts beating aggressively quick, the sensation made it as though your heart was in your throat and actively trying to suffocate you. Before you were able to formulate a plan, someone was sliding the thin curtain aside. "They should be out cold, that wasn't an average dose of sedative Capt. Had to get Alex to hold 'em down with me and he just got back too." Scottish man but he wasn't alone, you glared at the curtain to gauge how big the Scot was. Standing at 6'2(1.88m), nothing you haven't encountered, a build fit for a soldier. You weren't gonna take your chances though.

You leaned to grab the flower vase that stood tall on the bedside table, readying your other hand with the paper clip to fling it at the man as hard as possible once you distracted him. The curtain pulls back and sure enough he was distracted talking to the other person accompanying him. You threw the pot straight at the Scottish man's face, catching him by surprise and stumbling onto the ground with his hand on his nose. The pot didn't break, if you weren't trying to escape and it was safe, you'd be laughing in the back of your mind. Immediately turning your attention to the other man who merely looked at his buddy on the ground groaning in pain. You took that as a free opportunity to get the man. You flicked the paperclip hoping to at least get it embedded into the side of his neck.

However, to your horror, he leaned back just in time to dodge the clip. It pierced the concrete wall next behind him. Before you were able to do anything, he turned to you and pinned you down against the bed. Your wrists in his hands and above your head, you tried to pull away but to no avail. You started to buck your body against his, trying to get him off. This only causes him to yell at his comrade, who's whining and rolling on the ground in pain. "Soap if you don't get up and help me pin their legs or hell, even get the doc, so help me I will ensure the lavys are nice and grody just for you to clean till next month." The man that you almost stabbed in the jugular with a goddamn paperclip has his body on your torso, just so you’d stop struggling, had an annoyed look similar to a dad reprimanding his son for breaking a glass and not bothering to help.

“It’s Captain Price- Calm down Echo 2, we aren’t going to hurt you. You're back at base and safe.” Captain Price? Price? You heard of his name. Rodney had mentioned that name before, something about a transfer. You stopped fighting back, as he mentioned you’re safe now and realized you nearly killed a higher up, you apologized. He slowly got up, wary that you’d try to pull something. Especially after that stunt. “You had woken up several times the past few days, manic on several occasions. We had Soap watch over you in case you woke up and chose to attack the Doc.”

“Permission to speak. How long was I out? And are my platoon mates safe?” You asked after Price gave you a nod. “A week, your body was weak from blood loss. The doctors helping you had stabilized you. Removing the shrapnel in your thigh, stitching the remaining skin that you hadn’t stitched back onto your face, treating your stab wound and the burn you had from the branding. Your platoon was brought back safely thanks to you Sergeant (N/n).” It came back to you. The ambush during exfil, dragging injured man back, Rodney, the counting, the questions, and you don't remember much after that. Funny how it all went down within 24 hours.

The doctor came in with a Soap who wasn’t too happy to open the curtain. Doc ran a couple of tests to make sure you were clear for rehab. Your recovery was a speedy one and rehab was smooth sailing. The platoon came to visit you, those you saved came to show their gratitude. Some silently cried as you laid in the comforts of your hospital bed. You were still trying to register what happened, how you got 3 more stitches on your left arm. You had 8 on your arm from your past, marking those who wronged you.

One belongs to your deadbeat dad who abused you and your mother when you were younger, he died mysteriously. All you recalled was the newscaster covering his death as a brutal and grotesque murder that the nation had witnessed in years. Your mother knew what happened but she never disclosed that information, not to the cops and especially not you. You had stitched a blood red thread into your arm.

Another was a friend who left you to die after a crash that nearly rendered you paralyzed, you remember crawling with only your arms trying to get help.

Six belonged to each member of a jock clique who trapped you in the college’s equipment shed and took turns abusing you in too many ways yet you didn’t remember how. All you could remember was limping away in your tattered clothes covered in bright purple bruises that covered your body and a permanent red line that went around your neck.

The last one belongs to a guy who was close to one of the jocks, he somehow had entered your dorm room and attacked you after coming home from a long study session in the library. A scar ran from the back of your right bicep down to its shoulder blade. What amazed you was that you never remember what happened after those traumatic moments. All you knew were they’d end up dead one way or another.

You ran your hand over the stitches, something about it is soothing to you. Last thing you remember was seeing Captain Price walking up to you, and the mangled bodies scattered around you. Before you could get lost in your thoughts, Rodney came to visit. “(N/n)? How you holding up?” He pushes the curtain aside with his crutch and sits on the chair sat beside your bed. “As good as I can get Echo 1. How’s the leg?” The two of you made small talk, he told you that the rubble had broken his leg and that the medical team had to place a metal rod in there to treat the issue. He also mentioned something about gifts being dropped off and placed in your cage. Shocking considering you weren’t close to the team, “You know, if it weren’t for the bandages covering your face, I wouldn't know what you’re thinking. But your eyes speak volumes, it was thanks to you that we got to come home safely. At the expense of your own safety. I don’t think any of us could show just how grateful we are and could never repay you for it.” you didn’t say much, purely unsure what needs to be said. You simply reached for his shoulder, resting your hand on it. “Rodney, it's my job as much as yours to keep the rest safe. The least I could've done.” Rodney looked up at you with great admiration.

“I came here to let you know something. All I can say is that I left a good word in for you.” You were confused by what he just said and was about to ask what he meant by ‘left a good word in’ when he got up. “The platoon is waiting for you to fully recover, they want to head to the bar. I know what you’re about to say, ‘It's fine FTL, I’ll sit it out’. Not this time Echo 2, we’ll be celebrating your return before we get some down time.”

About 2 weeks after the incident with Captain Price and Sergeant Soap, you were given the all clear to head back to cages. The stab wound was still limiting your range of movement but at least you weren’t bound to the hospital bed or the confines of the rehab room. Being able to wear your uniform felt good, however you had to stop by the base’s surplus store to buy more balaclavas considering the huge scar on your face. You weren’t one who loved being stared at or given attention for no reason. When you walked in the surplus store, the lady working the cashier stared at you the entire time. You didn't hesitate to grab a couple pairs of gloves while you're at it. You immediately wore one of the all black balaclavas, walking out with a new cap as well, it didn't hurt to add a cap to your wardrobe, especially since you didn't want to look like a clothed bald. You chuckled at the thought, now you don't have to worry about your hair not meeting the requirements, you could even grow it out if you wanted.

You made your way to the cages, finding the aforementioned gifts on yours. The platoon had gotten you new clothes like multiple thin long sleeves to wear under your t-shirts or uniforms, balaclavas, a bunch of hats. A lot of gifts for a second in command that hadn’t bonded with the team much despite being with them for years now. What caught your eyes was a trophy, you picked it up. It reads ‘Best 2IC of the year’. You felt eyes staring holes into your back, “You guys know that you can’t sneak up on me right?” you turned to see the platoon hiding by the doorway, they came charging in. They picked you up and started to toss you up into the air, clearly happy that you were back. They never once seemed to like you until now, you can’t deny it, it felt good to feel appreciated. But you’d never show it.

They let you shower and change out to something more comfortable. You had chosen to wear some cargo pants, one of the thin long sleeves under a windbreaker you owned, not forgetting the balaclava and cap you bought. Once you changed, they carried you out to one of the trucks Rodney drove and hopped in after you. The drive to the bar was chaotic, the boys were singing alongside the handful of ladies who braved war alongside you. Music blasting through the truck, you could barely hear your own thoughts. The truck halts to a stop, now at the infamous bar that every soldier from base would frequent, The Old West. They were known for their top shelf bourbon and scotch. The guys dragged you in, the bar had an oaky scent that was somehow comforting. You and the platoon had taken up the biggest table and since the bar offered food, you ordered some mozzarella sticks to share with them. After sitting and chatting with the platoon, Rodney bought everyone a beer to celebrate. A cheer was called for and it being a weekend, the bar soon became loud with everyone joining in to cheer you guys.

After a while, you needed a moment to yourself. You had made your way to the bar, sat on one of the bar stools and had ordered a shot of vodka and a glass of whiskey. You didn't realize it but you were shaking, you weren’t used to being in a ‘huge’ crowd. Thankfully you had sat at the end of the bar and somewhat away from the noise. That's when you spotted Captain Price. He was talking to the bartender and hadn’t noticed you, how could he especially with how you looked now. And you’d like for it to be that way, still feeling bad for nearly killing him. You down the vodka with ease, nothing you weren’t used to considering how it was one of your many vices that helped you forget about the atrocities that you had committed over the years. You pulled your phone out to scroll the news, blankly reading it and enjoyed the whiskey.

“Care for another soldier?” Somehow you didn’t see the captain saunter his way next to you. The bartender had placed 2 drinks in front of you, that was the talk that he had with the bartender. Not wanting to be rude, you humbly accepted the drink. “At ease soldier, I'm here to enjoy a drink just like everyone else.” He turns to you and shoots you a smile. You simply nod. It stayed that way for the remainder of the night, with the occasion of either of you calling the bartender over for a refill. It wasn't as uncomfortable or awkward as you thought it would be.

Rodney spots the two of you and comes to say hi, “Captain, sergeant. Hope y’alls enjoy yourselves as much as the rest of the bar.” he chuckles, arm around your shoulder and beer in his other hand. “Hope this one right here will do you good captain, it’ll be sad to see ‘em leave. But it's for a better cause. Anyways, (N/n) the rest wants to leave in a bit, thought to let you know!” Rodney walks back to the rest, albeit a little wobbly than you’d like. You turned to ask Price what Rodney was on about but he was already up and had paid. ”Drinks on my soldier, see you the next time we meet.”

So many questions, yet nobody answers them.

A/N: Raiga here! This is the first chapter of the TOGF series, heads up that this will predominantly focus on your rs with Price, I might change the way this is heading as I do have a couple ideas on how to carry this story. I want to preface that the dynamic is not going to be too romantic. All this while writing my first GN! oh so many first! so do give feedback as it is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be a beta reader, shoot me a message as it would help with releasing each chapter faster.

The first chapter was mainly to give you an idea of the ‘mc’s’ behavior. Sorry if it’s much, most of it is based on my experiences. So if you happen to dislike it, I wouldn’t fault you. But I do hope you are able to enjoy the story! I’m also trying to avoid having the boys be OOC too much, I want it to feel more authentic as it can get if you were to fall in love with your captain despite it being forbidden.

Till then, that’s all from me! Raiga out.

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Taglist;

@thychuvaluswife @tiny-kasper

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #captain price #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #lieutenant simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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glaciertea · 5 months

Text

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.10<< >>Ch.12

CW: PinV, smut, light bondage, oral sex, all that fun jazzy smut

Chapter 11: Same Way that my Whole World's in Your Eyes...

Word count: 6K

It wasn't much. A nice kitchen that was barely touched. Clothes, tools, and other technology pieces were scattered about the floor. His bedroom had one dresser, with the solitary turntable and records you gifted him decorating it, and a gigantic California king bed. There was a long pane glass window in his main living and bedroom overlooking the twinkling lights of Nueva York.

Truly a magnificent sight to behold.

You both decided to just relax on his provisional bed, laying on your backs and staring at the ceiling. It was past midnight, and neither one of you could fall asleep.

“You know, Miggy, I've been meaning to ask, what do you do to relax? Besides coming over to my place.” You propped yourself on your elbows, turning your attention on to his bright, red eyes.

“Huh. Well, let's see. I enjoy–I do enjoy listening to music. Going to the park where we met. Side note, why were you there so late?”

"I wanted to clear my head. The park is only ten minutes away from my building, so I decided to just go. Why did you go?”

“Something told me to go. I guess gut instinct? I usually try to use my head more, but it won that round.”

You crawled and perched yourself on his chest, lightly stroking his face. “I'm glad it won.”

“I'm glad it did too.” His arms linked around your waist.

“Now, back to the matter at hand, is that all you like to do? Music and the occasional trip to the park?”

Miguel pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I… I can't think of anything else. I don't really have unlimited days and hours to do things I enjoy.”

“What about right now?”

His face twisted into a pensive daze. It barely crosses his mind that he appoints days for you. How prominent you're in his mind–that you capture so much of him.

“Huh. Well, I guess you can count this.”

“We can move on from this subject if you'd like.” Your forehead was placed on his.

“Quiero hablar de esto. It's okay, mi Luna. In a way, you're right. I see visiting you as a customary routine. That it's etched into another part of my day, but moments I profoundly enjoy.”

Miguel turned to the glass opening, concentrating on the artificial blinking lights that engulfed the world.

“But is it wrong to say I feel guilty?”

“Guilty when you leave your work?” You buried your head in his chest.

“I can't pinpoint the exact reason, or maybe I do. When I don't return, the burden dissolves but also manages to clutch onto that trepidation.”

“Miggy, are you still talking about your job?” You peered up at him.

Miguel leans his head back, vacancy plastering his face. “But does it truly wane? There's so much wrong, so many errors that I can't rectify, that I start to believe—no, do believe—I'm not worth…”

Miguel draws to you a solemnity that glosses over.

“Miguel?” You clamp your palms on the sides of his jawline.

“I'm sorry, mi corazón. I got lost in thought.”

“Are you okay? It sounded as if it was haunting your mind.”

“Haunting?”

You nodded. “Your eyes glazed over, fixed on something. You masked a stony facade, but your eyes had this faint, bleak, and ghastly look. What were you going to say? Do you believe you're not worth what?”

He averted back to the transparent window, a steady sigh spilling out. “That I'm not worth it. That I-I… shouldn't belong. That I'm this rancorous being with little to give. This monster that consumes others and brings them down."

You deadpanned for a moment, then slowly a choleric expression replaced it. Pressing his cheeks together until his lips puckered, you roughly placed your forehead on his.

“Don't you ever say that about yourself! You are worth every second, every minute, every hour, and every day! You aren't a monster; you are this amazing man who does his damndest to do good and to give so much to everyone and everything, and I want this man to do the same for himself! I want my star to see that he is just as bright and wanted as the others!”

Your heart drummed uncontrollably. Miguel was stunned at your sudden, blazing obstinacy.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn't-” He was left shell-shocked.

Having someone be passionate about how he perceives himself was an unconventional circumstance for him. He's so used to the belittling and snide remarks from others that all forms of positivity are out of the ordinary.

“Don't be sorry, Miggy. Well, you can tell yourself sorry. Don't talk down on yourself when you're far, far from those things. Do you understand?”

“Si. Si, mi Luna. Ay… ¿Qué hice para que alguien tan maravilloso como tú descienda a mi vida?”

“French! I took French!”

“Yes, yes, you did.” Miguel flipped you over, garnering a squeal from you.

He compressed a bit of his weight on your body and kissed your lips over and over before lingering for a few seconds.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Any chance you can get.” You enfolded your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Then I'll keep saying it. You are beautiful, my moon. How you adorn life and the ones around you, no matter where you go, you illuminate the paths with a glow that will never fade.”

A croaking screech belted from you, and your eyes began to well up with tears.

“Mi Luna, you okay?”

“Yes! I'm okay! Just caught–caught off guard.” You planted your face on the side of his neck.

Then that fragrance smacked him. He removed his hands from your sides, digging his claws into the sheets. He groaned, doing his best to control himself.

“Miggy? Alright, there is something going on, and I'm getting anxious. This is the third time you have had this… reaction. What's wrong, mi Estrella?”

‘You should be ashamed, you sick pervert.’ It was one of the only sentences echoing in his conscious. ‘She is going to be appalled by your disgusting ways.’ Was one of the only assumptions he was falling for.

Yet, when he peers into those eyes, all he sees is earnest empathy. That you’ll take the time to understand, no matter what is propelled in your direction.

Despite the destructive beliefs he holds, he will let you in.

One string lies dormant.

“I-I… Since I have these enhanced... complications, I'm able to–I'm able to smell when you're about to... start your cycle?” He winced, his voice drawing out.

“Oh. You know, I think the app I have said I'm supposed to start in the next few days.” You rubbed your chin, closing one eye, as your brain tried to remember.

“I- you're not mad about that?”

“No, why would I? You're basically like a personalized, super-scent humanoid app. Ah, that sounds bad when I put it into those terms.”

“Ay, no, no, I understand what you're trying to say.”

Miguel gritted his teeth, avoiding your stare as he demeaned himself for a request he wanted. Despite him sparing no effort to shy away, you realized his chagrined feeling.

You wanted to help him. You would just have to leave earlier to make a pit-stop over to a pharmacy, but it'll be all worth it.

“How does it affect you? I mean, I can take a gander, but I just want to be a hundred percent about it.”

“I just get so tense, and my blood boils to the point I can't even control myself. That's why earlier on the roof, I almost bit you because your aroma was so strong. Well, if you're about to start, that's probably the reason why.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, enquiring about your options.

“Off.” You simply commanded and patted his chest.

Confused, he creased his brows before following your instructions. His mind began to scramble, disconcerted by what exactly you were masterminding.

Sitting up, you flung your legs around his, straddling on them. “So, if I'm understanding this correctly, you basically get hot and bothered?”

You swept your thumbs against his digital suit. “And you need to have it taken care of? A sort of intervention?”

Interested in where this was headed, even though he caught the implications, he tightened his lips, not daring his mouth to open, and bowed his head.

“Well, if I'm causing this stimulation, then I should be the one to help, right?”

While leisurely caressing his thighs, you hypothetically watch his form for any minor differences. Rather, it may be from facial expressions to the body itself.

“Si. But, mi Luna, don't do this because you feel obligated to. I want you to be just as comfortable, and I don't want to-”

“Get rid of it.”

That dour attitude lunged out of nowhere. Miguel was keenly aware of how precisely doting you can get for your feelings for him, but never so frank with it.

“Corazón, are you sure?”

A roguish grin spread on your lips. You inched your hands towards his not-so-discreet bulge, your digits brushing against the fabric, concealing it.

“Is this answering your question?” You pressed your pointer finger on it, leaving feather-like touches around the outline.

Miguel sharply sucked in a gulp of air, your eyes enthralling him as if you were a siren.

A siren he will follow until the end of the universe.

“Remove the suit for me, Miggy. Let me help you.” You bent over right up to his ear.

“Let me worship you.” Your warm breath tickled his earlobe and part of his neck.

No hesitation; he got rid of his gear from neck to toe. Body burning with desires for you and what you were cooking up.

Your devilish grin dropped a bit, ogling at Miguel. You both haven't done anything explicitly sexual in your relationship, minus the few heated makeout sessions that usually lead to Miguel's shirt being thrown in a corner, but that's how far you would go.

It was mostly due to you being afraid you would be inadequate for someone like him.

And the same went for Miguel.

You bug-eyed at his size. You often daydreamed about how endowed he was. You were acutely aware that he was going to be large and highly telling due to his dimensions, yet being face-to-face with it was a new ballgame.

A drop of sweat trickled down to your cheek as you visibly gulped. Miguel, alerted, began to materialize his suit back on when a hiss revealed itself to him.

You groped him in your hand, pumping up and down in a steady rhythm.

“No. Don't. I'm just not used to something this big, but I'm not backing down from this, oh no, mi Estrella. I'm going to take this one head first.”

You slyly winked as your pace kept that firm pattern, your lips licking at the sight of him. He belonged in a museum. You felt so selfish, hoarding this sculptured man away from everyone, although you craved to keep him all to yourself.

Miguel bit his lip, grunting through his teeth at your soft yet strong grip. “Joder, Luna mía, no sabes cuánto tiempo llevo queriendo sentir tus delicadas y suaves manos sobre mí de esta manera.”

Groaning out, he dipped his head back, his hips bucking with your strokes.

“There you go, mi Estrella, let loose, my love.”

The only light to shine through was the city. You took in how the dazzling hues melded into a bewitching array over his chest and parts of his face.

You always inquired about how you were blessed with him.

Picking up speed, you adored every appearance his face created as you continued to work your magic. Precum was leaking down, some slipping through your fingers as squelches from his self-made lubricant blessed both of your ears.

“There's so much, Miggy. How often do you think of me? Of us? Of your moon taking care of you?”

You squeezed, causing Miguel to violently toss his head back as your nails carefully scraped down his length.

“¡Mierda! So much, mi Luna, so, so much. Necesito tu boca, por favor, corazón, tus bonitos y tentadores labios a mi alrededor, mi luna. Ah–¡Por favor!”

“What was that, mi Estrella?” Your tone rang out with a melodic chirp. Your hand jerked in a wild, twisting motion as his manhood throbbed from the strain you were creating.

“Your mouth–fuck! I need that pretty little mouth. Por favor, mi Luna.” Miguel rasped out, enthralled at how you were already breaking him.

The cheeky grin never once left your lips. You tilted your head downward to view your handiwork, your other hand searching its way and latching onto the thick shaft.

You could barely cover it as your palms gyrated at different tempos. More drops of the clear substance dribbled out from the swollen tip. Miguel gritted his teeth, his fangs grazing the bottom of his gums from the sensations.

He hasn't felt this way in years. If not, better. Even when those previous one-night stands or self-pleasing himself indulged, it couldn't compete with your touch or swift motions. How delicate yet robust your hands moved, using every fiber to care for him and make him feel good.

And it only made him want you more.

“Mi Luna–Ah–please your- fuck–your mouth.” Miguel couldn't contain the hoarseness in his throat.

You eyeballed the phallus in your hands. The more you pumped, the further that tingle in between your thighs grew.

The veins popping out, the heat warming up your fingers with every stroke, and the flowing liquid from his heightened arousal. His musk emits, mixing with the scent of pure desires.

Your mouth watered as you still gripped the pulsating member. Your head was leaning down as your eyes faced his reddened head.

Moistening your lips, you kissed it. A shock coursed all over Miguel. He released a low, husky groan, his hips bucking more involuntarily.

“Mi Luna.”

“I see you, mi Estrella. I see you.”

Observing his face, you made sure he was receiving the pleasure he deserved.

Trailing light kisses from top to bottom and back up. You licked the tip, swirling your tongue at a slow speed. His talons shoved in the thin bedsheets and the firm mattress. He rumbled out a growl, preventing himself from just forcing you all the way down on him.

“Eso es todo- ah, corazón, más, necesito más.”

Miguel abruptly thrusted upward as you instinctively grasped his thighs to prevent yourself from tumbling over. Not wishing to tease him anymore, you gradually engulfed him, as drool immediately emanated from the corners of your lips.

“Corazón, yes, there you go, bebita. Just like that.” His eyes fluttered into the back of his skull.

You moaned from the sensations as you took each inch at a deliberately methodical rate. You had to have one hand back around his shaft, loosening your cheeks to even attempt to make it halfway.

“Mmph–mmm!” You gargled as more spit spurted out.

Miguel entangled his unsheathed claw in your hair, pushing you down and impelling you to take another part of him.

“Si- si, si, mi Luna. Tu boca es una dicha eterna, mi corazón. Toma más, puedes tomar más.”

Tears pricked in your eyes as your hand was back on his defined thigh. You were so close to getting him all in. Feeling every inch as it would glide against your tongue, rubbing against your inner cheeks whenever you'd sucked in.

Noisy suction reverberated in the air as pools of your saliva and his salty substance dripped onto his lower pelvis region and thighs.

You were leaking from him. Your tongue was whirling around delicately and deliciously, as if he were the final meal you would ever be given. His tip nearly stretched to hit the back of your throat, and as hot tears streamed down your face as you peered up to look at his beautiful expressions.

“Mi Luna!” Miguel moaned, his hold strengthening. “So close, I'm so close, corazón. Fuck–so good, so good.”

He stroked along your jawline, admiring the sight below him. Your teeth feebly grazed his cock, faintly biting enough to send jolts through his body. Enough to elicit a growl from him.

Enough to face-fuck you.

“Mmmm! Mmmph–mmn!” You could only choke.

Your throat trembled around him and tightened with every thrust he gave. You were comforted when you saw pleasure written across his face. You were making him feel good, and in this moment, that's what truly mattered.

Miguel cried out. With his hips ramming up into you, he couldn't hold back any longer. That heat he wanted to experience from you was built inside of him. He was close, and you sensed it.

“Mi Luna!”

With a powerful roar, he finally released, pulsating waves upon waves of his hot seed down your pretty throat.

“Mmph!” Your eyes rutted wide as he spilled into your mouth, some leaking down to your neck. Nails dug into his thighs, and your eyes wanted to stare into his. He was majestic in your vision.

You desperately desired to capture this moment forever.

Gulping the final drop, you pulled away with a satisfying pop and heaved tirelessly.

“My… my God, Miggy. That was so much—holy shit.” You gasped, wiping some of his essence off your face with your fingertips before greedily lapping it up.

“I haven't done that in so long. Was it good? Was I good?” You rested your behind on his knees and finally peered up at him.

He had a fixed, ferocious glare. His burning, red eyes stirred something wild in them.

Goosebumps swept over you. You didn't know what to expect. “Was... was it- was I not good enou-”

He was sitting up, looming over. You shrank, neglecting exactly how colossal he was compared to you. That vibrant, captivating stare only made you tremor violently more.

“Mi-Miguel…” Your throat quivered.

In a swift motion, your back was against the wall above the mattress. Miguel had you pinned, his strong arms holding up your thighs as your legs dangled over his shoulders. You didn't even register how quickly he got you in this position.

“Miguel!”

“Ay, mi corazón, did you really think I wasn't going to reward you? That I was going to allow mi Luna to do all the work?”

He huffed a stream of sultry breaths on your covered inner thigh. “No, no. I'm going to show mi corazón that I can be good to her, just as she was good to me.”

He tore your sweatpants off in one fell swoop, muttering about buying you some more. Your chest heaved in rapid succession, head bowed as you watched how Miguel gaped at the massive damp spot from the earlier ministrations you performed.

“Did my moon enjoy going down on her papi that much?” His sharp talons pricked at your soft skin.

You diverted to observe the night's horizons, the lower half of your body barely able to shift under his hold.

“Look at me.” His authoritative tone barked out.

You nearly came from that. Flicking back to him, his lips were hazardously near your shielded folds. “Tell me what you want, mi Luna.”

“I-I…” You shrouded your face with your hands, mortified at the abundance of slick arousal seeping out of you.

His claws dug deeper into your skin as he stared you down, and his pupils dilated.

“Don't be shy, mi Luna. Tell me what you want.”

He trailed kisses back and forth from your inner thighs, massaging your buttocks. You were practically trickling from your private region. Mortified that you can effortlessly get to this point with him.

Miguel rested his cheek on your soft flesh, switching between kissing and licking exceedingly close to your bikini line.

Miguel wasn't one to be a patient man, but for you, he would wait until the end of time, only when you spoke the words.

“I-I want–”

“I won't begin, mi Luna, unless I hear it from those sexy little lips.” He purred, biting the crevice of your thigh, weary of his fangs. “So tell your Estrella, what. You. Want.”

He feverishly nipped the skin, running his wet tongue across it. He received a low whine as you shuddered at the wet appendage.

“Miguel! Eat me out—please, please, I beg of you!” Your head flung back, not caring about the self-impact of the barrier behind you.

You just wanted him.

“Como quieras, mi Luna.” His eyes darkened and delved in, lapping at the damp fabric with no hesitation.

You clung to his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. His claws tighten their vice on your supple ass-cheeks.

Miguel traced the outlines of your folds before flattening his tongue, pushing against your hidden vulva. The murky cloth rubbing against you and Miguel's tongue heightened your sensitivity.

You choked out a groan when you detected the tip of his talons making perfect slits down the back of your underwear before slashing the rest off of you.

“Mi Luna lo quiere, mi luna lo anhela. No temas, mi corazón, te daré todo lo que mereces.”

He admired the glistening heat, watching as it squeezed for him, savoring your fragrance. You mewled, abashed by the situation.

You didn't know what was to come or what to expect, but when you gazed into those lustful eyes, fear snuck its way through... and exhilaration.

“It looks succulent. I had the appetizer; now I want the full course.”

His hot breath teased your entrance before enveloping you in his mouth. His carnal tongue licking your labia, tasting your sweet and salty juices.

He stirred his tongue over the folds, dragging it all around, refusing to miss a single inch, then jutted in and out of your gushing core.

“Oh fuck–fuck! Miggy! Shit, shit, shit!” You wailed out, tingles rushing up and down your limbs.

Miguel was untamed, ravishing that soaking pussy. His movements were possessive, like a predator claiming its prey, yet behind it all was tenderness and longing.

“Mmmph.” A guttural growl sends vibrations through your sex, creating white stars in your eyes.

Thrashing your head from side to side, Miguel slid his appendage out and began to slurp. His tongue moved up to the clitoris, thumping it a few times, then he proceeded back down and repeated the pattern.

“Mi Estrella! Ah–ah! If you do that, I'll—I'll—fuck!”

Miguel only amped up. He paid attention to every sensitive spot on your honeyed pussy. He needed to drink your delectable juices as if you were the only thing left to drink in the world.

The raw energy from Miguel drove you into a frenzy. He was rough and powerful, but each impel was for your pleasure alone.

“I'm coming, Miggy! I'm coming!”

You cried out, clamping down on his tongue, and shuddered as waves erupted from your core. Your back arched off the wall, and your heels dug into Miguel's upper back.

He wanted to drink every drop as some trickled down to his chin.

“Qué dulce, qué apropiado para alguien como tú.”

Your forehead covered in sweat and thighs soaking wet, Miguel's ego brewed at the sight.

He did that. And he was going to be the only one to see you like this. To make you feel this way.

“How was that, mi Luna?” He nipped at the outer thigh and moved to clean up the rest of the spillage.

Your half-lidded, absent daze was all Miguel needed to know. He chuckled and strummed your back, loosening his grasp, and unlatched your legs, dropping you until they were locked around his waist.

He weaved his strong arms around your torso, listening to your steady breathing. He stroked your hair, then pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“You did wonderful, mi Luna. But there is still one thing. Well, two.”

Too jaded to even respond, a puzzled whine escaped you.

“I'm a selfish man, mi corazón, and my thirst isn't quite quenched.” He yanked your head back, and his tongue ran over your neck.

You gasped, your body aching in anticipation. He peeled you off him and onto the firm padding as you were positioned as an angel descending from the heavens.

“Oh mi Luna, ¿cómo tuve tanta suerte de tener a alguien como tú en mi vida? Todavía estoy tan desconcertado que fui yo quien te recibió.”

Miguel shifted off until his knees were on the wooden floor. He seized a hold of the thin cover you were on top of and hauled you to him.

“I still want more. But this time, I'm going to take my time with this dessert. Well, I'll try.”

“What do you mean?” You struggled to hide the intoxicated fright from whimpering out.

“You know exactly what I mean, mi Luna.”

He lingered over your body, roaming over it with his eyes. His hands stroked over every roll, dip, and curve, crushing his lips into yours.

Your tongues in an intense, messy battle as you tasted yourself. A string of saliva broke when he pulled back, both of your chests rising and falling in near sync.

“I'll let you pick, mi corazón. One or both?” His hands tugged your shirt off and threw it in a corner.

“B-both?” You were perplexed by those choices.

“Good choice.”

Yanking your bra up, he hungrily gazed at your perfect breasts, craving to have a nibble, maybe even a mouthful.

You covered them, forcing him to pin each of your arms near your face with his organic web.

“Miguel!” You moaned out, flushed over the new position.

“Do not try to hide that body from me. Yes sir?” He snarled out.

“Yes, yes! I promise I won't do it again!”

“Good girl. But just for safe measures.”

He spread your legs wide until they touched the mattress. He thwiped more of his silk webbing on your waist, ankles, and thighs.

You were exposed, your heart palpitating as you could barely even squirm.

“Now, mi Luna said both, correcto?”

You meekly nodded your head. With that, he needed no more. He cupped your breasts, squeezing and pinching the hardened nipples brutally. You moan in ecstasy as Miguel brushes his talons against the sensitive buds before colliding them together.

“Both.” He grunted and took both nipples in his mouth, licking them maniacally.

He tugs and chews at them, making sure to leave love-bites all over your chest. You groan out raspily when one hand leaves your chest and scrapes down your stomach in a non-stop motion, halting at your entrance.

A popping sound was made when he released one of your peaks.

“So wet again, mi Luna? Don't worry, I can fix that.” He took your left nipple back into his mouth, circling your clit with his thumb.

“Fuck! Oh–ah! Mmmn–Miguel!”

He plunged his pointer and middle into you, your walls clasping around them. Your back lifted up, only to be pulled back down from the binding.

He drove his digits deep into your core, his palms smacking against the folds as your juices spewed onto his hands.

Your lashes were wet from the sensual stirring from inside and your throat was hoarse from the screams and cries.

Miguel leaned his heavy chest on your stomach, leaving kisses all over your upper torso as you squished with every pump of his fingers.

“Mi corazón, you are so tight. I can feel every part of you. I will feel your wetness and your walls tightening around this cock. You want that, mi Luna? You want papi's fat cock to ravage and paint this gorgeous pussy?”

You could only sob as Miguel stretched you, rubbing against the top wall and locating your g-spot. His fingers create circular spirals against it.

You wailed, your heart was ready to burst from your chest. Silent cries and more tears, until Miguel stole another sloppily kiss from you, bruising your lips with his, desiring for you to release all over his fingers.

“You don't know how long I've waited for this; you adorn my life, my moon. You make me want to be better; you make me want to- to—damn it, corazón!”

Miguel pushed himself off you, removing his fingers, as you wailed out from the stoppage.

“Miggy! I was close! I was so—ahh! Mi Estrella!”

Miguel replaced his fingers with his tongue once more, his mouth on your pussy as he was ready to devour you. He stroked his swollen member, the clear liquid leaking out in ripples.

He didn't even want to speak anymore; he only wanted to hear those needy, shuddering moans and screams. His hums added more pleasure to their moment of passion.

He yearned for this. To make you come undone over and over.

He wanted to hold you, cherish you, please you, and protect you. He only wanted you.

And in this moment, he has that. He had one thing he longed for.

How long would this last? No, not right now. He didn't want to think that way. Now, he only wanted to make you orgasm on his tongue.

Snatching the webs from your thighs and ankles, he hoisted you up until your hips were in the air, your legs once more propped over his shoulders.

“I can't—I-I-I love—ahh!”

You were blubbering like a fool, with drool and tears drenching your face and sweat shining all over your body. Miguel gnawed at your clit, the glossy muscle, abusing your insides. He went raw and feral; he wanted you. He wanted this. He needed you.

Your walls tensed at every plunge, Miguel's eyes locking onto yours. Cradling you in one arm to support your waist, he returned to pumping himself.

You were on cloud nine, ten, and eleven. His nose swiping your throbbing clit, him feasting on you as if you were the final meal.

Your raw whines of lust were tipping Miguel over as his cock ached for you, wanting to invade your heated, velvety wall.

To mold you for him.

“I can't—I can't hold back, mi corazón!”

Pulling back, your legs collapsed on the sturdy cushions. Your vision was foggy, searing at the marbled statue that was Miguel. You crooned out as he hunched over you, his girth in his hand.

How it gleamed in the light, presenting every vein from thick to thin, the swollen phallus coated in crystalline cum, making it sheen and sleek.

You were hypnotized by the pulsating, twitching with every tug he made.

And that's when it hit you.

That was all for you. You cried out as Miguel buckled onto the mattress, his face near yours.

“I'm not going to have mi luna wait any longer. I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is me and this cock.” He huskily murmured in your ear, gaining a shudder from you.

“Yes, yes, please, Miggy. Only you, just you!”

You hiked your legs around his waist, latching on to the middle of his back as much as possible. He was big in every shape and form, but you loved it.

Propping an elbow by your arm, he lowered his body onto yours as his abs and muscular chest pinned you down, but he still left enough space for you to breathe. His other hand clutched his cock, lining it up to your seeping entrance.

“Are you ready, mi Luna?”

You bobbed your head.

“Good girl, now let me, mi corazón. Ah fuck–let me just.”

His chapped lips captured yours. You were sugar to him—sweeter than all candies combined. He nibbled your bottom lip, his tongue gliding across yours as he began to penetrate your hot opening.

You immediately clamped around the head, eliciting a gasp from both of you. He tried to push in an inch as slowly as possible, but found it rather difficult.

“Mi corazón, you have to relax. Shit–relax, relax. I got you; I got you.”

You mewled and nodded. With the help of Miguel's finger rubbing circles around your clitoris, you breathed in and out steadily, purring out whenever he slightly rocked his hips.

“There you go, such a good girl; you are doing so well. Fuck, mi Luna.”

He stretched you out more and more, pausing so you could adjust to him. After some help with encouraging rubs from between your thighs and several forehead kisses, Miguel was fully in.

He had to prevent himself from just railing into you as your inner muscles squeezed him.

“You can move, Miguel! Please! Please, please move!”

“Si, si, voy a ser dueño de este coño, moldeado sólo para mí, ah, mi Luna!”

His claws clutched the sheets above you as he slowly began to plunge into your depths. You released a cry to the heavens, feeling every pulse and steady pump from the man above.

You grinded up whenever Miguel thrusted downward, making your hip bones meet with every drive. He lapped at your neck, biting and sucking, leaving more purplish-red hickies all over.

He strived to restrain himself from plowing, but his hearing picked up every lustful squeak and moan, every squelch when he withdraws to the head and propel it back to the hilt, and every sweet nothing you murmured as you drooled and absent-mindedly grinned.

He sped up. Ramming into you repeatedly, plundering your drenched heat.

His member snugged as he experienced every inch of you clinging to him for dear life. His tip bullied your cervix, and you shrieked at every pulse as he rubbed against your walls.

“Too much, Miggy! Oh, fuck—I worship your cock, mi Estrella!”

“That's it, baby. Let go and surrender to me.”

Your nails dug into your palms as Miguel panted and growled in your face.

Surges of electric tingles through your body. The wet smacking of your pelvises flowed through both of your ears; a symphony of your raw moans and his low, husky huffs had your back slightly curling.

The mattress shifted with each retract and bolt as your breasts bounced in all directions. Your murky fluids gush on his lower abdomen and thighs, blemishing his mattress and soaking it thoroughly.

“Oh, mi corazón, so warm, such a perfect shape for me. Let me look. Let me look.”

Arching his back and hiking your legs up slightly more, you both viewed every exit before Miguel crashed back down to your core, hitting your g-spot perfectly every time.

Every inch of his length coated in your slick. Sweat dripping from his forehead on yours.

You were going to come undone.

“Mi corazón, mi Luna, you're so good. You are too good for me. Just us, just us.”

“Miguel! I'm so close! I'm going; I'm going to—ah!”

“Cum for me, cum for me, mi Luna.” He whispered gruffly in your ear, kissing your cheek.

His balls slapped against your ass from the brutal pace, his flaming irises treasuring every expression. You writhed as you deathly clamped around him.

Miguel hurriedly tore the webs from your wrists as you hooked your arms around his neck.

“Oh Miguel!”

You screamed to the top of your lungs, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull, as a kaleidoscope of hues and shapes blinded your senses. Your legs shook as if you were in a strong earthquake.

Miguel's motions became erratic, his hips moving roughly as he was nearing his own climax. A few more impels, his body tensed up, his seed spilling deep in your core, claws slicing the silken bedsheets.

“Eres mía, mi Luna. Only for me.” He snarled and took you in a sensual open-mouth kiss.

Two strings broke off.

“I-I… holy- mi-mi Estrella, I-”

“Shh, shh. Just relax, mi Luna. Relax. I'll take care of you, mi corazón. I will always take care of you.”

You lulled your head as your muscles unwind. Miguel freed you from the rest of his webs, but you didn't mind it. It felt right in a sense. Being bound up, you detected that security, that sense of trust you both held.

“I'll be here, mi Luna. I will always be.”

Were the last words you heard before your body was shuffled around as you passed out.

At this time, you felt as if things were going to be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #tales the songs weave #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x you

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